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This venue is closed.

By day this airy taqueria is known as Selena, named after the Tejano music singer who was shot by her fan-club president. The food isn’t nearly so exciting—overstuffed burritos, quesadillas, and spinach tacos for midtown’s lunchtime crowd. Even a late afternoon happy hour of cheap piña coladas and margaritas fails to draw many takers. At night, however, things heat up. Selena becomes Al Ritmo de la Noche, a local dance hall for laborers, who check their coats at the door, sit in groups at white-clothed cafeteria tables, order buckets of Tecate and shots of Patron Silver, then ogle the short-skirted, corseted women leaning against the wall. It’s not ten cents a dance anymore. But you’ll still need to tip your partner if you want to take a spin on the dance floor. Should anyone desire privacy for conversation, a terra-cotta-tiled balcony provides a refuge from the tacky blue lights and the latest rendition of “Ay Hombre.” — Daniel Maurer