Leithgow Street and Girard Avenue, between Fourth and Fifth, 215-351-9144. Mon-Thu., 11 a.m. to 9 p.m.; Fri-Sat., till 10 p.m.; Sun., till 8 p.m. Wheelchair access. Reservations suggested for 6 or more. Major Visa or MasterCard. BYOB.

You can’t miss it. On a derelict block of Girard Avenue, where once brawny rib steaks, smothered in garlic, sizzled in Jewish restaurants, there stands a bravely orange little place. Las Cazuelas, home to some of the most authentic and tasty Mexican food in the city, shines like a friendly beacon. Inside, the same cheery orange shade is sponged on the walls, and decorative Mexican tiles and sculptures dot the room. Ceiling fans spin lazily, and the smells from the kitchen, combined with the smiles from the waitstaff, are welcome enough.

It’s quieter in the back room, but there is less atmosphere. This is called Rinconcito Inolvidable, the Unforgettable Room, because it was added when the restaurant gained popularity. Now, it seats, besides us, a family of seven plus two babies, and they are busily ordering in Spanish. Observing what they’re doing is the best way, but the menu is really clear enough so that we can order safely, and have no unpleasant shocks when the food arrives. Then, too, going with the specialty of the house is always wise, so we start our antojitos (appetizers) with tres tacos de suadero — three tortillas filled with roast flank steak ($6.25). These tortillas are soft and floury, with a slightly spongy texture and a nutty taste. You wrap them around the crisp morsels of beef, and add chopped cilantro, chopped onions and salsa to this mix, according to your taste. This can be made with beef tongue —de lengua — for the non-offal impaired, and is mighty good.

Tacos dorados ($5.45) come next, and they are entirely different from the first tacos, and spicier. Corn crisp, and already rolled, chopped chicken provides the filling, and the garnishes of sour cream, salsa, and soft, white cheese produce three tacos that are more familiar, and hotter in flavor. The coktel campechana ($7.25) arrives looking like an ice cream parfait — layers of pink and beige tinged with green in a footed dish. We plunge in our spoons and come up with crisp, pink shrimp and fat oysters, diced onion and avocados, lots of cilantro, and a thick sauce that has too much tomato and not enough jalapeno pepper, I think. This is the only time throughout the meal that I find any fault with the preparation, and it’s purely subjective.

We are drinking a Sauvignon Blanc and some Mexican beer that we have brought along, and eagerly dig into the next platters that the affable, young waiter brings us. Tonight they are featuring camarones azuelo ($18) that turn out to be the biggest, crunchiest grilled tiger shrimp I’ve ever had. They are done in the shell, looking more like lobsters than shrimp, and the meat is sweet at the center, with a barbecued edge that is irresistible. They come, as do all the platters, with impeccable rice, well-seasoned and perfectly cooked, and creamy beans. The next exclamations of delight come from the recipient of the torta de milanesa ($4.95) that is listed as a house special. This is a simply divine steak sandwich, Mexican-style, with steak that is breaded before grilling to provide a crunch, and then thinly sliced. It is piled on a plump, Mexican roll, fluffier than a Kaiser roll, that is spread with mayonnaise. Funny how mayonnaise pops up in the most unexpected places. You wouldn’t associate it with Mexican food — it’s so white-bread American. Actually, it’s French in derivation, and I thought perhaps it had been brought to Mexico by the Spanish, or by Napoleon’s nephew, or someone else from Europe. My friend, Liz Rozin, a culinary maven, points out that it more probably was a vertical, than lateral move; specifically from us, in the States, to Mexico.

Well, even the Japanese are using a mayo mix as the "spicy sauce" on sushi. In any case, it is very good with the steak, as are all the onions, avocados and jalapenos that inhabit the platter. Next, we confront another house specialty, mole poblano, that is a chicken breast topped with the famed dark, dark mole sauce ($12.95). The menu calls it a chocolate sauce, but lest you expect something like Hershey’s syrup, I must tell you that if you didn’t have a label, you would not identify this ingredient. You would search down through the flavor layers of this mysterious stuff, and find a whisper of chili peppers, maybe tomatoes — but only at the very end, might you think "cocoa." It’s an ancient recipe, and one that’s sophisticated in its complexity. Topped with sesame seeds, the chicken and its sauce blend well with the rice and refried beans. You mop it up with another soft corn tortilla that comes on the side, and think how different this is from the commercial Mexican restaurants you’ve frequented before.

Alfredo Aguilar, the owner-chef, is from Puebla, a city about an hour south of Mexico City, and it is the food of central Mexico that he brings us. Think not Tex-Mex, this is the cosa verdad. And there are at least three dishes I’ve yet to try: a broiled steak served with a hot tamale and cactus salad ($10.25), grilled pork chop served "in a mirror of Al Pastor Salsa," and oysters topped with Hidalgo salsa and Oaxaca cheese ($10.95). I love the sound of them.

Desserts were a mixed bag. The tres leches cake ($2.50), so called because it is made with three milks — condensed milk being one — is not jarringly sweet as we think it will be. Rather it’s a delicate, spongy cake, layered with strawberry puree. I like the dense flan ($2.50) better, and it too, is not as cavity inducing as others of its ilk.

"Cazuelas" are the pottery bowls that hold salsa and other condiments. And here, they also hold a wealth of authentic, adventuresome dishes, served with a perennial smile.

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