Goat tacos — barbacoa enchilada — at Taquería Cocoyoc on Wyckoff Avenue. — Photos by Scarlett Lindeman

If you have never had the pleasure of eating goat, Taquería Cocoyoc is a good place to begin. Goat meat is dark and sinewy, falling somewhere between the flavor of lamb and beef but with more finicky bones. When treated right, the meat turns into unadulterated carnivorous luxury. At Taquería Cocoyoc, a four-year old Poblano taquería on Wyckoff Avenue, barbacoa enchilada is goat gold.

It is a narrow squeeze past the tiny front kitchen — an open rectangle dominated by a door-sized smoking griddle. Slink by the green counter into a dim tunnel of a restaurant. You’ll have to shout your order over the piercing cumbia but the menu is well-translated and dense, offering tacos a la mexicana, just cilantro and onions, or the gringo version, piled high with iceberg lettuce, tomatoes, and cheese.

 
Taquería Cocoyoc
211 Wyckoff Avenue
718-497-4489
Mon-Sun 10am-1am
Most items: $2-8
 
Taquería Cocoyoc.

Stacks of just-delivered, still-warm Tortillería Buena Vista tortillas sit on the counter, sweating inside their bags, ready to mop up cuminy singed meats. A muscular worker in a Cocoyoc shirt womans the grill — deftly moving piles of meat around and toasting quesadillas till they crack and sizzle with the finesse of a concert conductor. She drizzles on oil from a coffee carafe.

The menu contains a nice mix of traditional Poblano antojitos — patted cornmeal snacks, like sandal-shaped huaraches, petite chalupas, and picaditas, left unadorned or layered with lengua and carnitas. But also, more Americanized numbers like nacho plates, tostadas, and vegetarian tacos heavy with zucchini, mushrooms, and beans. A table in the back is full of white-coated doctors from nearby Wyckoff Heights hospital, stethoscopes still draped over their necks, tackling monstrous beef burritos. The spicy chicken tinga may not be as tender as other neighborhood taquerías, the red and green salsa not as vibrant, but you’ve come for the goat.

The kid is bright with citrus, lashed with chile — “many many chiles,” says the owner, marinated for hours and braised for a couple more, rendering the meat silky and saturated.  The meat is then crisped on the griddle and tucked into two supple corn tortillas. A lime spritz, a bite, and you’re a convert.  Hunkered down with your mouth close to the plate, you will be wolfing down goaty chunks, like, well… a wolf. 

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