The Mule

Every taco at The Mule is gluten-free, and none of them read as a concession. Fried fish arrives under citrus slaw and lime crema; Brussels sprouts come with cotija and tomatillo heat; beef bulgogi carries kimchi, gochujang mayo, and black sesame. Building the entire menu without gluten sets one hard rule and then leaves the kitchen free to roam, treating the taco as a flexible format rather than a fixed recipe. On King William Street downtown, it works as both a neighbourhood taco kitchen and a late-night draw.

The menu rewards ordering across it. The O.G. Fish Taco — fried fish, citrus slaw, avocado, pico de gallo, and radish — is the cleanest read on the kitchen, crispness and acidity doing the structural work so the taco feels complete instead of overloaded. The Brussels Sprout Taco stacks fried sprouts against corn salsa, avocado, and lime crema for the fullest vegetarian build, while the Sweet Potato Halloumi Taco leans on salt and char. The through-line is juxtaposition: each build reads clearly on its own, and a table that orders three different tacos learns more about the kitchen than one that repeats a favourite.

The larger plates set up the tacos instead of competing with them. Birria Foldies fold beef brisket, mozzarella, and cotija into plancha-crisped corn tortillas, served with pickled vegetables and a birria jus for dipping; Bang Bang MFC brings togarashi fried chicken with pickled chilis and cucumber; queso fundido and guacamole round out the shareable end. Behind the food is a serious tequila bar, and the margarita list runs from the Classic to the Ay Caramba!, built to sit beside the heat rather than smooth it over.

What the menu shows is a kitchen more interested in contrast than in orthodoxy. Korean, Japanese, and Mexican ideas share a plate without any of them being asked to imitate the others, and the gluten-free foundation runs the length of the menu — tacos, dips, larger plates, brunch, and dessert — rather than sitting off to one side as an accommodation. None of it reads as fusion for its own sake; the combinations hold because each plate is built around a clear contrast of texture and acid. Diners with medical needs are still asked to talk through their requirements before ordering, since a busy kitchen cannot promise a fully controlled environment. The cocktail list and the late hours point the same way: this is a kitchen that expects a table to linger and a night to build.

The Mule opened in 2015 with crowd-funded roots, and that beginning still shapes how the original Hamilton location carries itself. Erin Dunham and Matt Kershaw own it through The Other Bird, the local hospitality group behind several of the city's downtown addresses, and Miguel Davila runs the kitchen as Chef de Cuisine. A place that launched by asking its neighbours to buy in has kept the habit of cooking for them.

That range is the practical case for The Mule. Weekend brunch turns the taco-and-cocktail identity toward Huevos Rancheros, Brunch Bravas, and fried chicken and waffles, trading speed for a slower table. Recurring weekly offers — a Tuesday built around fish tacos, a Monday date night, weekday lunch pricing, and early-week happy hours — give regulars a reason to time a visit, and weekend DJ nights push the late service past an ordinary taco stop. Because tacos come priced to mix and larger plates are built to pass around, a group can compose separate orders and still share, which makes a table as workable for a birthday as for a weeknight. With the kitchen running until two in the morning, it stays useful long after most Hamilton dinners have wrapped, as good for a booked Friday reservation as for a walk-in near midnight.