Hi. It’s Joe, not Sara. I’m not smart enough to create an administrative profile for myself here, so I’ve decided to write this using Sara’s.
You might have heard, we are opening a new Tacolicious. And while I’m beaming with excitement now, at the time I wrote these notes, I was steeped in deep lease negotiations and stressed and nervous and frustrated and overwhelmed at the same time. Fortunately, Mexico is close and a great excuse to do a little R&D.
My buddy Tyler Gourley is a really great photographer. My buddy Isaac is a really great builder and eater and drinker. We didn’t build much on this trip but we did eat and drink a lot. And Tyler took some really great photos. I hope you enjoy.
Despite all the border drama talk, we drove across the border at Tecate—which, for future reference, should be noted is about 45 minute drive from the San Diego airport—and crossed without delay. In a matter of seconds, the roads became charmingly uneven, stray dogs began to pop from out of the woodwork and life in general seemed to move at a much slower pace.
Our first order of business was was finding a cool place to have a drink.
The place we stopped was pretty cool. Very Mexico. Lot’s of people standing around. Some guy tried to sell us his puppy. The usual. The woman that owned the cafe (I called her La Diabla) took great pleasure watching Isaac and I get our asses totally kicked by the heat given from the Chilpetines en escebeche—an immature pepper that is pickled and served as an accompaniment to the delicious Preperada, a drink made with clamato, pureed chiles, lime juice, salt, black pepper and of course Tecate. Find this on the Tacolicious menu immediately.
From La Diabla’s patio restaurant we walked across the street to a open air stand with a 40 seats, each table adorned by bowls of pickled jalapenos, clay pots of salsa roja de la casa, whole radishes and salt.
I really loved the cutting board, basically a large, 12-inchish slice of Eucalyptus. I wanted to buy one for Telmo but for some reason I thought our local health department would frown upon it.
From Tecate, we were highway bound, through the Valle de Guadalupe, Baja’s very beautiful yet sleepy wine growing region, en route to coastal points south.
It feels like I’ve been to Ensenada a hundred times, though it’s probably more like 20. It’s not a very cool place to be. I mean it’s fun if you want to get wasted with a bunch of sunburned Americans, or if you’re looking for some by-perscription-only (but not in Mexico) drugs. To my mind, it’s kind of the border—it’s the place where America really ends and Mexico really begins.
On this particular trip, we three geniuses ended up there the same week as the Baja 500. Picture lots and lots of dune buggies, elevated trucks, mullets and spare fuel tanks. And imagine it very loud. Between the cars and the techno music that the sponsor, Rockstar energy drinks, was blasting so loud on the street, we couldn’t even converse.
In any case, we were there for the night and decided to make the most of it. Whenever I drive through Ensenada, I always make a stop at El Charro, a really average restaurant in the tourist district that’s been there since 1956. The margaritas are pretty terrible, the chips are from a box and the service is painfully slow (though very nice). But it’s tradition. When I was a kid, way back in the 70’s, my parents brought the family here on our way south. It’s hard to miss because there’s always an old woman making tortillas in the front window as well as an even older rotisserie, packed full of baby chickens slowly rotating. Order half a roasted chicken with fries served with fresh tortillas and salsa, it’s quite delicious.
Because the light was really bad in the restaruant, our pictires didn’t turn out too well. Fortunately for my sister though, I took some time this afternoon and went through some old family photos and did find these pictures of my sibling and I enjoying Mexico in 1977.
My sister Erin going au natural in Baja, circa 1977.
Me in Baja, circa 1977. (I enjoyed drinking then too.)
So, from Ensenada, we made our way down the coast with no real destination in mind—our main goal was to get away from it all.
After passing through Santa Tomas, including a stop at El Palomar Restaurant and Motel for huevos con chorizo, tecate and tequila, we decided to get off the paved roads and head to the coast. After an hour and a half of dirt road driving, we happened upon a small fishing village of Erindria. We were lucky to arrive on a very big day: The main road was being paved and seemingly the entire village was in the street to watch the big to-do.
Once we got to the coast, we were directed to a little white warehouse that looked like an abandoned building. There, we met a very nice young man who showed us his bucket of of recently caught and iced fish. After a few minutes of deliberation we decided on the 4 pound ling cod that was so fresh that even the flesh was blue.
The very nice kid cleaned our fish and we were directed to go see Lupita, the owner of a small “restaurant” located within the small village. We dropped off the fish with the young woman and told her we would return around in a few hours for dinner. She reminded us to also bring beer if we wanted to drink because she didn’t have any.
Tyler liked the fish. And he didn’t forget the beer.
One last stop before the border…
When I was a kid, my uncle mark and his Hawaiian friend Sandy took me on many trips to the sleepy fishing village of Puerto Nuevo (an hour and 45 minute drive from where they lived in Laguna Beach). i loved eating lobster with smashed beans and rice on flour tortillas and salsa seaside. I also loved that my uncle didn’t tell his sister—my mother—that he let me drink plenty of tequila and margaritas.
My memories of Puerto Nuevo are different than the way it is today. We made a stop there on the way home and were greeted by gaggles of restaurant and shop callers, all speaking English, all saying they had the best and the cheapest at a special price for us, their friends. The sleepy fishing village is gone. Today it’s bustling and touristy and full of gringos and bars and restaurants and shops that serve them. It might as well have been Fisherman’s Wharf.
Thankfully though, we found a restaurant with an ocean view that wasn’t too crowded. We did get to eat the lobster, and all the modern “developments” aside, I was able to recapture that childhood food memory, which are often some of the best.
The funny thing about life? When you’re young and fearless and adventurous, you have all the time in the world to do whatever you like (which usually means spending endless days getting wasted as quickly as possible—or maybe that was just me.). You grow up and you have a business to run and kids to drive to school and a wife to do chores for (I mean, spend quality time with). You still adventure, but you have to do it with efficiency.
Which is why our trip was three nights in total. And considering Baja is so close, is was actually just enough. Thanks for reading.
