A Taco Is Not a Sandwich. A Torta, on the Other Hand, Is.

On May 13, an Indiana judge ruled that a taco is a “Mexican-style sandwich.” The contentious statement created a kerfuffle, with media outlets chiming in with their own opinions. Allen County Superior Court Judge Craig J. Bobay probably didn’t expect the national blowback when he sided with the Famous Taco owner Martin Quintana, who argued that tacos are sandwiches and therefore didn’t breach the agreement he signed with the Allen County Plan Commission restricting Quintana to open only a sandwich shop on the Fort Wayne property.

If Bobay had looked for precedent, he would’ve learned that the matter had been decided eighteen years ago in Worcester, Massachusetts. In 2006, in a similar case, a Qdoba franchisee sought to open a store in the same shopping center as a Panera. In his verdict, judge Jeffrey Locke ruled a taco is not a sandwich—and he was right.

Mexican-style sandwiches are called tortas. They have nearly endless variability, often differing from region to region, and they deserve the same kind of spotlight given to their equally adaptable cousins, tacos and tamales.

Torta is short for tortuga because the sandwich is often made with turtle-shell–evoking, baguette-like telera. Bolillo is also used. The sandwich is thought to have been invented by Armando Martínez Centurión, who started selling it at his namesake restaurant, Tortas Armando, in Mexico City in 1892. The original location in El Centro Histórico is closed, but Martínez’s granddaughter, Mónica Martínez Pérez, owns and operates other outposts in the Cuauhtémoc and Del Valle neighborhoods. The two signatures are the torta de bacalao, salt cod mixed with tomatoes, onions, and olives; and turkey. 

Considering that most dishes start as home cooking, it’s likely the torta is older. Martínez simply offered it to the public first. But Tortas Armando’s options—which also include the tortas compuesta, layered with refried beans, avocado, cheese, chiles en escabeche (pickled chiles), and more—barely scratch the surface of possibilities.

Iliana de la Vega, Mexico City native and co-owner and executive chef of El Naranjo in Austin, has special memories of tortas. “My father loved those tortas and used to take us to Tortas Armando’s quite frequently,” she says. “Pork loin or milanesa were my favorite.” The fondness for tortas is a family affair. El Naranjo’s co-owner and de la Vega’s husband, Ernesto Torrealba, owned a torteria in Mexico City while in college. “[They are] an art to create the perfect balance of ingredients,” he says.

The Cuauhtémoc location of Tortas Armando sits along a quiet block of Río Nazas Street. The restaurant’s awning and covered patio’s metal and wood seating and tables give it a contemporary French bistro feel. Service is slow like that of a café—customers are meant to relish the bantam sandwiches and linger over a cup of joe or a mouth-puckering agua fresca de jamaica, which is fine if you’re in no rush, but tortas are meant to be a food of convenience.

Workers frequently prefer them for a grab-and-go meal, and there are stands across Mexico City that offer them that way. They advertise variations like the torta cubana, a sort of kitchen-sink sandwich loaded with ham, milanesa (breaded, thinly pounded pork), roast pork, hot dogs, head cheese, yellow cheese, queso fresco, avocado wedges, onion and tomato slices, jalapeños or chipotles, mayonnaise, crema, and/or refried beans, among a dizzying array of other possible components. The torta del chavo, a simple ham, cheese, and lettuce torta named after the floppy-hat-wearing main character of the iconic sitcom El Chavo del Ocho, is also a popular choice. On street corners, vendors peddle favored guajolotas, bulging carb bombs stuffed with a tamal of salsa or chicken.

Arguably the most popular modern torta business is La Esquina de Chilaquil, a stand in the La Condesa neighborhood specializing in torta de chilaquiles, also known as tecolotas. A telera is swiped with refried beans and avocado, and stuffed with green or red chilaquiles, with the option of adding milanesa. It’s big enough that it takes a strong grip to hold the torta while walking away from the operation and likely dodging an employee delivering a fresh bag of teleras over his shoulder. 

There is just one problem: Unless you get there when it opens on a weekday or early on weekends, you’ll stand in a line down the block, and maybe around the corner. Knowing this ahead of time, a friend and I walked up to La Esquina de Chilaquil just after it opened on a weekday morning. We waited maybe five minutes before we got our sandwiches.

Outside of Mexico City, tortas abound in familiar and surprising compositions, and they’re not always called a torta. My favorite is the bolillo con crema, also known as the torta albañil (the construction worker’s torta), a specialty of Aguascalientes. To make it, a cook removes the interior dough and fills the cavity with sliced deli ham and Mexican crema, with a pickled jalapeño wedged into one side. Finally, they shove the dough back into the bread. The whole process takes about one minute, and they’re sold at almost any corner store and bakery. 

The guacamaya hails from León in Guanajuato state. The sandwich is characterized by chicharron and salsa de chile de árbol, and is finished with a squeeze of lime juice. The straightforward torta de frijol con queso is a favorite in Oaxaca. Although popular in Mexico City, the pambazo, a guajillo chile-soaked roll filled with queso fresco and chorizo, is commonly believed to have been invented in the state of Veracruz. Puebla’s beloved cemita is also a torta. The torta de barde, from the Gulf of Mexico city of Tampico, is named for the barrier that separates the docks from the railroads in the port. Of course, it’s impossible to not mention the torta ahogada, the carnitas-filled birote roll soaked in salsa roja from Guadalajara in Jalisco. It is perhaps the most iconic and treasured torta.

The torta’s journey from a simple sandwich to a food diverse in fillings, sizes, names, and significance is an exciting one. Yet, the sandwich exists in the shadows of Mexican cuisine for many outside of Mexico. Charlie Gonzalez, an Aguascalientes native and co-owner and chef of San Taco and Panfila Cantina in San Antonio, says tortas deserve as much attention as tacos and tamales. “They’re the forgotten middle child of Mexican food,” he says.