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It’s a Sunday afternoon and The Norfolk’s courtyard is buzzing with families swiping corn chips through guacamole and 20-somethings on their third can of Mexican lager plucked straight from an icebox. Two golden retrievers hoover up any bits of taco that fall to the ground, and the aroma of an outdoor barbecue hangs in the air. Summer has come early to Redfern.

The only thing that’s missing is Toby Wilson, Ricos Tacos’ founder. “Is Toby about?” I ask a bartender who’s restocking cans of Corona and Tecate. (I want to know what’s in the seasoning for the chips.) “Eh, no. Toby’s competing at the World Porridge Making Championship in Scotland this week.” Of course he is.

As far as excuses for not being on deck at your new restaurant go, it’s a good one. The chef was locked in a battle for oatmeal supremacy – his second attempt to bring home the Golden Spurtle (named after the utensil used for stirring porridge so it doesn’t form lumps. The more you know, huh?)

Wilson has been perfecting his fiery salsas and tacos for the past nine years (competitive porridge is a relatively new pursuit). The former barista was cooking at Waterloo’s George Hotel before opening his own taqueria on a Chippendale backstreet in 2021. It closed three months ago when Wilson sold the business to Public hospitality group, owner of The Norfolk. Wilson remains at the helm of the brand, however, and this might be my favourite incarnation of Ricos to date.

It feels like a return to form for The Norfolk’s courtyard where so many Millennials (myself included) used to spend every Saturday, circa 2013, drinking sangria surrounded by Christmas lights.

When I was here earlier in the year after a long time between visits, the place had been whitewashed to look like a northern beaches beer garden made for popping mid-priced champagne rather than somewhere for listening to Tame Impala, four margaritas deep. Now it might be the most colourful pub in the state.

Artist Mike Delany has painted murals of dancing tacos, talking goats and surprised pineapples that pop against canary-yellow walls. The upstairs space, once home to seafood shack House of Crabs, has been transformed into “Mexican sports bar” Club Ricos. This means photographs of footballers, such as Carlos Reinoso in his 1971 prime, plenty of mezcal, a foosball table and disco lights. Very good.

Pick two or three tacos, plus the excellent zucchini-flower quesadilla.

The food is just as mood-lifting as the decor. A hash brown ($4), zippy with chipotle salt, is every bit as indecently delicious as I remember from Wilson’s Chippendale diner. You can also have it on a torta sandwich ($18), although this seems like a few carbohydrates too far.

It’s a Mexican restaurant, so corn chips are pretty much non-negotiable, although the guacamole ($13) on my second visit could have done with a more liberal dose of lime. Order those crunchy triangles with an addictive, refried black bean and confit garlic dip ($8) instead.

There is a habanero salsa ($3) of gnawing heat that makes everything it touches twice as interesting, and the tacos – each built on two warm, soft tortillas – are compelling handfuls as are.

The al pastor ($8) is your go-to, featuring spit-grilled, adobo-marinated pork with avocado salsa and a slice of ripe pineapple. A chipotle barbacoa taco ($8) stars tangy beef that’s all submission, while a slow-cooked chicken number ($8) is covered, but not smothered, in an almond and coffee mole sauce of requisite richness.

These are not light tacos. I would pick two (okay, three) for lunch, plus the excellent zucchini-flower quesadilla ($9), a cheesy, compact disc made for dipping in fruity salsa roja.

Meanwhile, one kingfish tostada ($12) is almost a meal in itself, piled high with ceviche, coconut, mint, cucumber and earthy, spicy, salsa macha. You can probably skip the $28 roast half-chicken plate (it’s fine, but the tacos are better), but don’t miss the deeply bronzed chips ($9) doused with a spice blend that holds your attention until the end of the bowl.

Texting from a tiny village in Scotland, Wilson tells me his chip seasoning is a “beautiful marriage” of chipotle powder, salt, sugar and good old-fashioned monosodium glutamate.

Wilson didn’t win the porridge championship for Australia, but he did make the final for his specialty entry of a “Scottish taco” featuring oat-dusted langoustine, lemon salsa and salted savoy cabbage on an oat flour tortilla. Not bad for a self-taught chef. If he needs more time to work on his spurtle technique for next year’s event, at least Ricos is in fine hands.

This review was originally published in Good Weekend magazine