The newer Old Town Mexican rooms compete on tequila counts and murals. Los Olivos has been competing on survival since the late 1940s: the Corral family’s adobe landmark, sculpted facade and all, still serving the Sonoran canon to people whose grandparents ate here first.
Order like an Arizonan — a cheese crisp to start, then the Sonoran enchiladas, the stacked masa kind rather than rolled. The margaritas are priced like the family still remembers the old days.
When to go: weekday afternoons, when the tour crowds thin out. Before you leave, take a slow lap of the facade; the building is the second course.