Toloache is a Midtown oddity: a very decent restaurant situated smack in the middle of block-upon-block of Theater District humdrummery. Surrounded by its overpriced and underwhelming peers, Toloache (pronounced toe-low-AH-chay), open now for a little more than a year, is all the more remarkable for its clear overarching goal–to take the humble Mexican food of the taco stand and South American street cart to new culinary (and pecuniary) heights. With a few exceptions, it achieves this goal well through the use of unusual indigenous ingredients like huitlacoche, a surprisingly toothsome fungus that grows on corn. It also does not hurt that Toloache’s flattering lighting and polished décor help make diners feel like they are eating something special, even if it made of something nicknamed ‘corn smut’.

Really, the huitlacoche dishes are among Toloache’s best–and the waitstaff are good at convincing even unadventurous eaters to give them a try. When asked, servers explain delicately that huitlacoche is similar to a mushroom, which is certainly less off-putting than calling it by its salacious-sounding nickname. [The only chef in town who could pull off serving a dish like that is Kenny Shopsin, who would undoubtedly turn Smutty Tacos into one of his biggest sellers.] Whatever you call it, you can find huitlacoche on what seems like every other dish: from tilapia to salmon, as well as on tacos with cactus and double cream, and–most brazenly–layered into a huitlacoche salsa poured over a corn quesadilla with black truffle shavings and manchego cheese (pictured above right, $13). This indulgent, savory dish is on the small side, but it is rich and nuanced enough to make up for it.

The same cannot be said of the chicken enchiladas (pictured above left, $20), an uninspired concoction of dry chicken breast, floppy enchilada dough and pico de gallo sauce. The additions of dried fig and a spicy apple salad ought to help, but they do not provide the one thing the dish needs to save itself: moisture. On the other hand, the shredded pork, carnitas de lochon, in the form of the roasted suckling pig, (pictured right, $26) are much better. The entire dish reminds us a bit of vinegary North Carolina pulled pork barbecue, but with its complex, smoky flavor imparted not by smoke but by guajillo peppers and a habanero-inflected sour orange salsa. Stretchy, crunchy chicharrones offer the perfect complement to elevate the dish to another level.

Toloache also gets props for its guacamoles and ceviches, both of which are available in tasting trios for between $21 and $27. The guac trio (my personal favorite) includes a cool, mild variation, a medium guacamole with a sprinkling of sweet pomegranate seeds, and a spicy tomato-based version that is addictively tangy. With rapidly-replenished baskets of chips, it is dangerously easy to fill up on appetizers alone. The two-tiered dining area presents another, albeit non-culinary danger: Tables on the second level balcony are separated from the customers below by an open wrought-iron fence. On a recent visit, my over-eager reach for a dip into the guacamole swept my eyeglasses off the balcony and directly into the meal of a none-too-happy couple below. For their sake and my own, I was grateful I hadn’t knocked the guac.

Toloache, 251 West 50th Street (between Broadway and Eighth Avenues), 212-581-1818.