The past few years have seen a couple of critically acclaimed Mexican restaurants join the plethora of fancy joints up and over Federal Hill, but a mere two miles farther down, Chilangos, translated to " native of Mexico City, " is reveling in word-of-mouth business, a secret we’ll gladly expose. Located on the typically chaotic Manton Avenue, this quaint, unassuming gem, an a la carte utopia, serves up ridiculously inexpensive Mexican fare.

Our carnivorous crew had finally reunited after two of the mates returned from a five-week trek across Europe. Occasionally, they’d drop an e-mail with subject headings like, " RE: I miss my cow tongue tacos, " or, " Tell Carlos we’ll be home soon. " Carlos, owner and headwaiter of Chilangos, also hand-carved the tables and chairs. The décor is a masterful blend of earth tones, colorful tulips, and sunflowers carved into the high-back chairs and glass-top tables.

" It’s just a hobby, " Carlos says with a humble shrug, " but food is my true passion. " True indeed, explaining why the six of us stumbled upon a 20-minute wait on a Friday night. No problem. Chilangos is BYOB, so we picked up some Negra Modelo and Presidente at the adjacent liquor store. Once we were seated (the restaurant hold fewer than 40 people), Carlos delivered the requisite multi-colored tortilla chips, chopped limes, and salsa. But it’s the containers of fresh verde and tomatillo sauce that everyone reaches for. Be sure to request the guacamole ($3). It’s not listed on the menu, but — splendid in its simplicity with diced tomato, a slew of cilantro, hunks of ripe avocado, and a splash of lime juice — it’s worthy of praise. Even with the beer, we opted for the Mexican sodas ($1.50), refreshing flavors such as mandarin, lime, pineapple and grapefruit.

It was time to get down to business. Our world travelers were eyeing the menu in search of something different, and they found it. Carlos informed us of a Friday special — his version of a shrimp ceviche cocktail ($8) — pricey for Chilangos, but more than enough for two, he assured us. I decided on a spicy chicken huarache ($4.50), an enormous oval, open-faced burrito with refried beans, sautéed onions, cheese, and Mexican cream. Everyone else ordered their personal favorites, including the pickled cactus salad tostada ($2.50), a loaded chicken quesadilla ($3), and an assortment of tacos for a measly buck apiece, including pork marinated in pineapple and onion, lean steak, and longaniza, a spicy sausage, as well as the two biggest sellers, the tender lengua (cow tongue) and the cabeza — oh yes, we’re talking about cow head.

Our order was ready minutes later. The shrimp cocktail was the talk of the table, with four shrimp adorning the brim of a margarita glass loaded with rice, tomato, onion, avocado and shredded crab (the real stuff). Once the forks were submerged, shrimp were plucked three at a time. We lost count at 13 (!) while everyone reached for chips to scoop out the never-ending prawns. No wonder this dish consistently sells out by 7 p.m. The cactus salad tostada was also a winner, a flat crunchy shell topped with dots of pungent " old cheese, " avocado, and tender cactus, similar to a juicy, French-cut green beans.

The green chicken enchiladas ($6) are consistently amazing in simplicity — three flour tortillas stuffed with shredded chicken and cheese, and doused with that three-alarm verde sauce. The Villa and Chilango burritos have also become a mainstay with our crew. This could be the best five bucks you’ll ever spend on your stomach, for what has to be a pound of the marinated pork in the Villa. The Chilango incorporates a mixed meat blend with three melted cheeses, sliced jalapenos, and nothing else — no filler here. Carlos won’t disclose the secret for the accompanying chipotle salsa, a creamy, smoky sauce that complemented everything on the table.

The only mishap came when our adventurous friend decided to try the cueritos tostada, a marinated pork skin that was perhaps a bit too authentic for his palette. One bite of the translucent skin slice was all it took to have our friend resemble a Fear Factor contestant, yet he had no qualms devouring his cabeza tacos — the most requested item on the menu. The marinated jowl is simmered slow and low to ensure a tender and juicy taco. It’s not sinewy or stringy as one might expect; think of mom’s Sunday pot roast, thinly sliced, flavorful, and absolutely delicious. Seriously.

The table cluttered with to-go boxes, we had to pass on the flan ($3.50), as well as the frothy licuados ($2.50), drinks with tropical flavors like papaya, as well as the unique oatmeal-like avena with a hint of cinnamon.

Sure, you can continue to scour the state for so-called authentic Mexican cuisine and shell out $18 for uninspired platters, or you can literally go that extra mile and visit our friend Carlos at Chilangos. Your stomach and your wallet will thank you.