Author: Yujia Sun

Program of Study: Molecular Engineering PhD, Pritzker School of Molecular Engineering

Tacos in the Taste of Chicago Festival (photo taken by the author).

Description: When you think of Chicago's food scene, do deep-dish pizza and hot dogs come to mind? But there's a newer, more dynamic story being told on the city's streets, wrapped in a tortilla.

 

Transcription (provided by the author):

Welcome to the ELI’s Finding Chicago Global Perspectives Podcast Series for AEPP 2025. I’m your host, Yujia Sun, and I’m currently enrolled in the University of Chicago’s Pritzker School of Molecular Engineering.

When people think of Chicago food, they usually picture deep-dish pizza or Italian beef sandwiches. Those dishes are iconic—they represent the city’s history and traditions. But while living here, I discovered another food that tells a much more modern story: the taco.

This realization came to me during the Taste of Chicago festival in Grant Park last week. If you’ve ever been, you know the energy—music in the background, grill smoke in the air, lines that snake past food stands, the smell of grilled meat and spices floating over the lawn. People from all over the city cradle little paper plates piled with food. I expected the usual—pizza slices, hot dogs, maybe funnel cakes. But tacos kept popping up—everywhere. Of course, there were the traditional carne asada and al pastor. But right next to them were Korean bulgogi tacos, Indian butter chicken tacos, Filipino adobo tacos—sizzle-sizzle, cilantro, a squeeze of lime. Each taco felt like a small cultural story wrapped inside a tortilla.

That moment made me curious: why has the taco, of all foods, become such an important dish for so many immigrant chefs in Chicago?

To answer that question, I started with the Mexican roots of the taco here. I spoke with Elena, who runs a taqueria in Pilsen. She told me about her grandmother’s tacos back in Michoacán. For her family, tacos were never fancy. They were everyday food, tied to a specific place and tradition. But when her family came to Chicago, things had to change. Certain meats and Mexican chiles were hard to find. Their new neighbors weren’t familiar with strong, spicy flavors. So her family adapted. They experimented with new salsas made from local ingredients and adjusted their recipes to fit what was available. Elena explained that this wasn’t about losing authenticity. Instead, it was about creating a new identity—one that was both Mexican and Chicagoan. That spirit of adaptation didn’t stop there. It continues today, and not just with Mexican families. Many immigrant chefs in Chicago now use tacos as a way to share their own cultures.

I met Min-jun, a Korean chef who runs a food truck downtown. When he first arrived in Chicago, he felt that hamburgers and hot dogs didn’t really connect to his culture. But tacos? Everyone knew tacos. Everyone loved them. He told me something I’ll never forget: “The tortilla is like a handshake. People already know it. So when I put bulgogi and kimchi inside, they’re curious, not intimidated.” His tacos don’t taste exactly like what you’d find in Seoul. The flavors are a little sweeter, a little milder, adjusted to local tastes. But for him, that isn’t a compromise. It’s creativity. It’s a way to introduce his culture while also becoming part of the Chicago community.

As I kept learning, I realized that the taco here is more than just food—it’s really a reflection of the city itself. Chicago has always been a city of immigrants, and every group that arrived faced the same challenge: how to hold onto their traditions while also adapting to something new. Italians brought pizza and changed it into the deep dish we know today. Polish families introduced sausages that eventually became Chicago-style hot dogs. And now, chefs from across Asia, Latin America, and the Middle East are making their mark through tacos.

Why does the taco work so well for this? I think it comes down to flexibility. A tortilla is simple, but it’s also powerful. It can hold grilled meat, roasted vegetables, seafood, even flavors you’d never expect—like kimchi, curry, or barbecue. It’s affordable, it’s familiar, and it feels approachable to almost anyone. That makes it the perfect format for reinvention. In that way, the taco has become more than just a dish. It’s a symbol of Chicago today—always evolving, always welcoming new influences, but still rooted in a deep sense of tradition.

And when you start to think about it that way, a taco becomes a kind of storyteller. Every taco you see on the streets of Chicago carries history inside it. The carne asada taco whispers about a grandmother’s kitchen in Michoacán. A bulgogi taco reflects the journey of a Korean family making a new life here. An adobo taco connects Chicago back to the Philippines. Each one tells a story of someone who arrived here with memories of home, then blended those memories with the ingredients, neighbors, and opportunities they found in this city.

So next time you grab a taco from a truck or a taqueria, pause for a moment. Look at what’s inside the tortilla. Ask yourself what story it might be telling. Because what you’re holding isn’t just lunch—it’s migration, adaptation, and belonging, all wrapped up in one bite. Sometimes, the best way to understand a city is simply to take a bite. Bite by bite, taco by taco, you begin to taste the story of Chicago itself.

Thank you for listening to my podcast.