At promptly 4 p.m. every Friday, Saturday and Sunday, the graveled parking lot of Carniceria y Taqueria La Flor de Michoacán begins to fill up with a brotherhood of taco warriors: burly men drawn by the mingled scents of char and sizzle permeating the air from a makeshift, smoke-filled canvas tent. They occasionally glance toward the TV or give a cursory nod toward the kid trying to sell bootlegged CDs, but they mostly huddle around the affable taco chief who's tending to a pineapple-crowned spit, slicing off marinated nubs of pork that he slides into griddled, grease-glossed corn tortillas, dusts with chopped onions, cilantro and radishes and splashes with salsa. All of the street tacos here are the best versions imaginable, flavored with undeniable street cred.