North Hobart’s Elizabeth Street has been a source of reliable, sincere dining experiences for a very long time. But only recently has the strip of eateries stepped it up a notch. There’s cocktails, boutique beer and blue cheese burgers: all ripe for the foodie picking. And now: a Mexican tequila bar as sultry as the apricot-streaked sky we walked in to it under.

It’s a mid-summer Sunday evening and Pancho Villa is heaving. After entering through an unassuming front door you may well mistake for a delivery point, Pancho’s interior smacks our senses. The dim is punctured by low hanging lights, mock stained glass and a bar glowing with top shelf booze and copper cocktail instruments. The seductive stare of a framed dia de los muertos bride catches my eye just as the handsome maître d’ welcomes us in.

There are no tables but after a drink and nibble in the courtyard there’s sure to be something for the four of us, we’re informed. We wander over figured timber, past an all-ages crowd and through a crypt in search of starters. The courtyard is cosy, sheltered and somewhere you could elect to stay if you’re keen for a quick drink. The straight talking barman suggests a Spanish Sauvignon Blanc and we add a side of guacamole. The accompanying plantain chips don’t do it for me but the sweet dip impresses and gets us all excited for more.

After an extended stay out the back, we’re ushered in to the main dining area by yet another of Pancho’s swanky wait staff. It’s a plush booth beneath ceramic skulls and we waste no time ordering from the Land, Sea and Acompanamientos departments: white corn tacos, ceviche, seared scallops, sesame chicken, chilli wallaby, chorizo potatoes, honey roasted pumpkin and fancy coleslaw.

The tacos are a hit. Some are generously filled with smoked pork cheek and spicy apple and cabbage; others have gently seared tofu and black olive salsa. These little parcels of juicy, well-seasoned goodness are interrupted only with refreshing sips of Waterton Riesling and the cheeky banter of our intuitive waitress.

The next round isn’t quite as impressive. The subtleties of ceviche are lost under a thick coating of pomegranate mojo and the bitter black mole sauce similarly detracts from the perfectly pink wallaby. On most of the ‘main’ dishes one flavour stands out and threatens to swallow the others whole. Things quickly even out during dessert. The raw lime, avocado and green tea tart is fresh and nutty and joined successfully with gutsy sorbet. Of course, the churro dulce de leche is gobbled in a satisfied heartbeat.

Pancho is planning to extend to takeaway street food soon, which will no doubt add energy to an already buzzing locale.