The holder of the meat bag.

In the magical town of my dreams, the work week ends with everyone heading out to a quiet street, where the best cooks in town make their favorite dishes from scratch and everyone eats -- standing up, plate in hand -- while the kids and dogs run around, dipping in and out of pools of street lamp light.

Who knew Boyle Heights was the magical town of my dreams?

My friend Jessica had been talking for weeks about the Mexican food fair set up on the corner of Breed Street and Cesar Chavez, so on a recent Friday evening we made the short trek over. As we drove through the torn-up streets bordering the freeway, we were distracted by a small clump of people waving hand-lettered signs that said "RICO'S TACOS" with arrows pointing left. The people holding the signs, however, were pointing emphatically to the right.

How could we resist? We turned right and a little boy in the group let out a whoop, then broke away to run ahead and announce our arrival. We found Rico's Tacos in a large, empty warehouse, the griddle set up incongruously in a corner next to a small table. Unfortunately my barbacoa taco was woefully underseasoned, a fault no amount of the very good salsa could mask. We said our thanks and moved on.

Walking across Cesar Chavez, I saw a line of food-covered folding tables and portable griddles edging a parking lot dotted with vendors selling Disney blankets, flashing-light jewelry and even more food. We started in the middle, at a table run by a woman in a hairnet who periodically pulled large, flat pieces of raw meat from a plastic shopping bag on her table and threw them on the griddle to sear. I was fascinated by the meat bag. Needless to say, we had to try one of her asada tacos, as well as a chile-cheese taco, an oozing joyful mess of tender green chiles and melted cheese.

Chopping barbacoa.

We searched in vain for the pozole lady next to the table selling cups of flan and other gelatinous desserts. A smiling man selling barbacoa and consome was set up in her place, but a peek in his soup pot didn't entice us and two guys eyeing us creepily nearby kept us walking. We stopped by the tacos al vapor stand, the steamed meat resting under white terrycloth towels, which for me conjured mental images of a sauna populated by sides of beef. I tried one of the tacos and marveled at the extremely tender spiced meat. Sitting in a sauna apparently relaxes even the most tense of meats.

Our last stop was the champurrado and huaraches table, where a friendly mustachioed man answered all our questions about the various hot champurrado flavors. I tried the guava, a thick corn-based drink with a mild fruit flavor, and Jessica had the walnut. The drinks are all made from scratch and sweetened with "...What's that called?" asked the mustachioed man. "That sweetener?" I thought of piloncillo, those rustic cones unrefined sugar, and pictured a Mexican auntie slowly stirring the champurrado in an iron cauldron. "Oh, yeah," he said. "Splenda. It's made with Splenda."

My Mexican auntie deflated like a pierced balloon.

Taco sauna.

We finished the evening with huaraches (flat corn cakes resembling the shoe of the same name) topped with huitlacoche, corn fungus, which sounds strange but has a very agreeable funk. They were good, but not as good as the huaraches at Huarache Azteca in Highland Park.

As I left the food fiesta, champurrado in hand, I sighed, satisfied in both soul and belly. (And wallet -- I spent less than $10.) Is there a better way to end the week? Maybe only in the magical town of my dreams...and that's just because someone there is making Thai som tam.

Boyle Heights food fair
Breed Street & Cesar Chavez Avenue
Thursday - Sunday, 7-10pm