Ode to the Taco: Recommendations For Further San Diego Research

Glancing briefly at the wad of junk mail daily stuffed inside our mailbox, my attention was grabbed by a flashy, glossy color insert courtesy of the folks at Jack In The Box, who are currently hawking both a revamped "late night" drive thru menu and their venture into the realm of Mexican food. And if you didn't think Mexican food could get more half-assed than Taco Bell's Volcano Taco, think again. Or should I say, look closer at the image I've helpfully pasted above. What caught my eye was the fact that Jack In The Box features a crunchy shell taco (we're already far from the realm of la auténtica comida mexicana, but wait for it) featuring a single slice of American Processed Cheese almost thoughtfully tucked into the side of each taco shell. It looks absurd in the officially-sanctioned corporate advertising photo, and I can't imagine how foul it looks in real life. I picture it drooping, in a quickly-congealing lump of yellow-orange, across the brittle taco shell, breaking apart in one chunk with the first tentative bite.

Never mind the fact that cheese plays a very small role in authentic tacos. Never mind the fact that when cheese does make a rare appearance, it is typically in the form of the very mild and crumbled queso blanco. I'll even be willing to admit that American-style tacos, from Southern California to the Texas border, are often smothered in cheese and taste none the worse for it. But even the barbarians have the common decency to shred the stuff before handing the taco over.

Looking at such horrors, I remind myself that much of the country remains stranded in what I've dubbed the Malo Corridor of Mexican Food, a zone buffeted on the one hand by junkfood chains like Taco Bell, Taco John's or Del Taco and on the other by grinningly genteel "casual dining" Mexican-American restaurants with all-English menus, deep-fried burritos, enormous taco salads and Super Nachos. It's largely what I grew up with passing for Mexican food, with two greasy crunchy tacos and a pintos 'n cheese from Taco Bell after soccer practice fixing my jones, or a family visit to Chi Chi's in Appleton in the pre-Hepatitis A days, or any number of countless and now-forgotten interchangeable variations on cheese-drenched platters with mild side-optional salsas.

And yet, the taco revolution continues to spread, north and east. Those of us ensconced safely within the borders of Southern California may feel smug when it comes to authentic border food, but as the country's Hispanic population expands and shifts, better food follows. I was first struck by this a few summers ago visiting my wife's family in Walla Walla, Washington. Hardly a bastion of Hispanic culture, the region nevertheless has seen a large influx of Latino families, especially during the harvest season when the valley sags under the weight of wheat and sweet onions. A surprising addition to Walla Walla has been the presence of several competing and rather excellent taco trucks setting up residences in various locations, such as El Taco Loco, parked in front of the Melody Muffler and offering an authentic menu like lengua tacos for cheap. Similar stories are being told in regions of the rural Midwest, long forced to subside on Mexican Pizzas and bland jars of Pace Picante Sauce and now boasting solid offerings of tacos sudados or tacos al pastor (and perhaps even glasses of horchata). The reasons for this steady influx of new immigrants aren't necessarily positive ones - far too often, the work bringing new immigrants is dangerous, non-unionized and exhausting, thus dominated by recent arrivals lacking a solid education. But if any positives are to be found among the many crimes committed by Nebraska pig farms or Kansas livestock operations, the cultivation of self-sustaining Hispanic communities among formerly lily-white farming towns may be one.

There's more to the story than taco trucks, of course. Chefs like Rick Bayless have been drawing attention to the possibilities of combining authentic Mexican fare with gourmet techniques for years, and his 1987 book Authentic Mexican: Regional Cooking from the Heart of Mexico is a landmark text. Yet I can't help but feel that we're at yet another tipping point in culinary history when more Americans than ever before are sampling real or nearly-real approximations of Mexican cuisine, from five-course dinners to 75 cent street tacos. While there remains an almost overwhelming dependence upon processed taco junk, it's also never been easier to sample a cabeza taco.

San Diego's taco scene is less well-defined than our big brother to the north, where a vital taco truck following and a much larger Hispanic population has combined to create a nearly unprecedented American variation on street food culture. We San Diegans still rely on local chains like Roberto's (dubbed "Regretto's" by those in the know unlucky enough to have spent an evening or two with upset stomachs after devouring a greasy burrito) and many even partake of national chains. But the real taco lovers among us traverse the city to locate new roach coaches, grimy walk-up taco stands and refined variations on traditional recipes. Although far from complete, the following list offers a handful of must-try taco destinations in our fair city.

TABE taco trucks traverse the greater San Diego region, offering Chef Todd Ichinaga's Korean-Mexican fusion to mobile eaters, including bbq chicken tacos dredged in Teriyaki and Maui salsa, Bass ale battered fish tacos, and vegan offerings for those interested. The salsa bar alone at Mama Testa Taqueria in Hillcrest is worth a visit, and while tourists flock to sample the fish tacos that famously beat Bobby Flay's on a recent Food Network program, I recommend the Mama Cesta or "steamed tacos" - especially the mashed potato-filled en papas. The Linkery's menu changes daily, but one can usually find a scrumptious taco filled with a housemade sausage link with navy beans, while their recent "Tijuego" gastro-cantina spin-off, El Take It Easy, dives further into the tradition, with grilled pork belly tacos and rabbit taquitos alongside three variations on micheladas. Brave the grime and grit outside La Posta de Acapulco's Taco Shop on Third Avenue in Hillcrest and you'll be rewarded with one of the richest carne asada tacos in town. My wife swears by the rolled tacos smothered in gaucamole and shredded cheese at Ocean Beach's Nico's, and while the nonstop ID-checking and sports bar atmosphere of nearby South Beach Bar & Grille is obnoxious, for once they're not lying when they talk up the quality of their seafood tacos, from mahi mahi and wahoo to shark and lobster. 30th and Adams' Cantina Mayahuel whips together tasty $4.50 tacos, with my favorite being the lime-marinated sirloin taco filled with shredded cabbage-carrot-cilantro, washed down with one (or two) of their 145 tequilas. Also strong on the tequila front is the decidedly upscale El Vitral on J Street, with a mushroom, white corn, poblano and cheese taco starter especially memorable. Touristy and far too busy for me, the taquitos at India Street's El Indio are nevertheless a San Diego institution, with Ralph Pesqueira Jr. presiding over the sixty-year old home of the original rolled taco. Any number of astonishingly awesome taco stops could be made in the Barrio Logan neighborhood, but I'll give a nod to Las Cuatro Milpas (heavenly carnitas tacos with truly hot hot sauce) and the freshly-fried fish tacos at Rivas on Logan Avenue. While they also serve up tacos for carnivores, the real draw at Ranchos Cocina (OB and North Park locations) are the veg/vegan-friendly offerings, such as tofu or nopales tacos. And for some real street-food fun, track down the good folks running the MIHO Gastrotruck, with an ever-changing menu that doesn't always feature tacos (their veggie poutine is, thankfully, a constant) but has served up in the past Yucatan-inspired cochinita pibil tacos filled with spicy pickled red onion (and don't forget to ask for the Mexican coca cola, one glass bottle of cane sugar and absolutely no high-fructose corn syrup goodness).

I guarantee none of these places will insult you by tucking a slice of processed cheese into anything you order.