There are meals that stay with you long after the plates are cleared — or in this case, long after the corn husks are folded and tucked away. Cariñito is one of those rare places. A six-month pop-up from Mexico City, it lives in a dimly lit corner of University Place, humming with energy and a kind of temporary magic. You feel it the moment you step inside: the sense that this experience is fleeting, and that somehow makes it all the more vivid.
Cariñito Tacos NYC, 86 University Pl, New York, NY 10003
The evening we visited, the air still carried that late-summer weight, and the streets around Union Square were spilling with the usual chaos — skateboarders, flower vendors, the steady flow of taxis. Inside Cariñito, the mood shifted. The room is small and moody, with walls painted in deep tones and the faint smell of charred corn lingering in the air. There’s no table service here, just a handful of stools and a crowd that happily stands, balancing tacos and small glasses of beer. Plastic crates stacked in the corner double as both décor and extra seating. It’s stripped back, unfussy, and all the more welcoming because of it.
The food is the heart of the place. Bold, soulful tacos rooted in Mexico City flavors but playfully twisted with Southeast Asian accents. We were lucky enough to go on a night when chef XOLO was in the kitchen, and the menu read like a story told through spice and memory. The tuna tartare quesadilla arrived first — layered with chili crunch that built heat slowly, balanced by a soft, almost buttery tortilla. Then came the pork belly taco with green curry pipián — unexpected, expressive, the kind of bite that stops you mid-conversation so you can taste every note before speaking again.
Other standouts came quickly, each one carrying its own little punch. The Cantones, with crispy pork belly and bright pickles, felt like a bridge between Chinatown and CDMX — savory, sweet, sharp. The Issan, layered with Thai herbs and toasted rice, carried the kind of freshness that lifts and lingers. What tied it all together wasn’t just the balance of flavors but the generosity behind them. Every taco felt like a small act of storytelling, an offering both rooted and adventurous.
Meals like this remind me why I love food in New York. It’s not only about the flavor — though the flavor was extraordinary — but about the setting, the fleetingness, the way strangers stand shoulder to shoulder, sharing the same sauce bottles, laughing over the same messy bites. There’s intimacy in that kind of casual closeness, in knowing that you’re part of something temporary and unrepeatable.
As we ate, I found myself thinking about impermanence. Pop-ups like Cariñito carry a different kind of rhythm. They’re here, and then they’re gone. They ask you to pause, to be present, to savor because you won’t get endless chances. In a city where we’re always rushing toward the next reservation, the next opening, the next trend, there’s something grounding about a place that says: I’ll only be here for a short while, so meet me fully in this moment.
Outside, the night kept moving — students on their way home, a couple holding umbrellas though the rain never came, taxis honking in their familiar chorus. But inside Cariñito, time felt suspended. We stood with our friends, balancing plates and drinks, laughing at how messy our hands had become, and it felt like exactly the right way to spend a night.
Not every meal has to be grand, or polished, or planned months in advance. Sometimes the most memorable ones are the ones eaten on makeshift stools, with chili on your fingers and a drink balanced precariously on a crate. Cariñito reminded me of that — that food is memory, that impermanence can make something shine brighter, that tacos can carry soul, joy, and just enough of a kick to stay with you long after the night ends.
If you have the chance to catch it while it lasts, go. Stand in line, find your spot, let the flavors surprise you. It’s casual, full of character, and more than worth the pause.
