Tijuana, everyone’s here! This ought to be the city’s motto because moreso than any other Mexican city, with the possible exception of Mexico City, “TJ” is that nation’s melting pot. A few days isn’t nearly enough to explore such a vibrant place, but consider these as some first impressions.
The most striking thing was that the relationship between Tijuana and neighboring San Diego feels free and easy — far freer and easier than the relationship between, say, El Paso and Juarez. People, goods and ideas flow back and forth like the tides through San Ysidro, the world’s busiest border checkpoint.
(You absolutely need Global Entry and/or SENTRI, however, or you’ll wait in long lines!)
In the food context, chefs ebb and flow on either side of the border, whether they’re simple line cooks, notable chefs like my friend Chad White (who now lives in Spokane), or genuinely famous, like Javier Plasencia, who cut his eye teeth decades ago working at the famous Caesar’s Hotel.
Yes, that Caesar, of Caesar salad fame. It was invented there, and I absolutely had one, served tableside, of course. The venerable restaurant and hotel opened in 1931, and remains as an anchor to Old Tijuana, back when the city was a town, and when that town became a magnet for Americans fleeing the strictures of Prohibition. Prohibition marked the beginning of a century of booze, parties, and gambling — notably horse racing. Seabiscuit, perhaps the greatest thoroughbred of all time, ran at the Agua Caliente racetrack.
If you are looking for a common thread for Tijuana’s history, it’s possibility. In TJ, all things are possible, and if you look hard enough, you can get anything you want. Because, well, everyone’s here.
Most of your minds slide south, thinking about drugs and women and, if you were in the Marine Corps, maybe a donkey show. (Don’t look that up.) You absolutely can find both women and drugs still, and yes, you can still see donkeys painted like zebras eating corn on the corners along Avenida Revolucion. Weird. Really weird, but hey.
But the city has grown beyond that.
In recent years, the presence of so many people from so many parts of Mexico — and, very recently, from far-flung places like Haiti and Venezuela — has formed a critical mass for food culture. Now, if you see, say, carnitas somewhere, chances are the person cooking it is from Michoacan, where this dish was perfected. Ditto for all the regional specialties.
Mexican fusion is blossoming there, too. It is said that the wildly popular quesabirria, a quesadilla with birria added, was born in Tijuana. Think of any other sort of portmanteau, like tostilocos, and chances are they were invented here, too.
All this is reflected in the vendors at the Hidalgo market, which is a must-stop if you visit. It’s an unusual market in that it’s an open box — you park in a central coutryard — with stalls on all four corners. And literally everything is there! Ingredients from all over Mexico laid out for sale. Bayo beans from Nuevo Leon, hojas de mixiotes from who-knows-where (they’re illegal in parts of central Mexico), chicatana ants and chapulines from Oaxaca, coffee from Chiapas, recado spice pastes from Yucatan, even guamuchil “beans” from Sinaloa, a sort of tree fruit where you eat the sweet, cottony outside coat of the astringent black seeds.
And one of my all-time favorites, fresh pitahaya fruit!
Wandering through was a kaleidescope of flavors and colors.
People come to Tijuana yes, to cross the border (legally or otherwise), but increasingly also to jumpstart a life in the newly vibrant city. People like Maria de los Angeles, a member of the Huichol indigenous group from Nayarit who sells fine beadwork art at a mercado along Avenida Revolucion.
Maria is a friend of my friend Abe Sanchez, who used to visit Tijuana as a child and who now works closely with indigenous artists on both sides of the border. She came to TJ to make her fortune, and while she’s by no means wealthy, she’s making ends meet with her beadwork. Not an easy thing in any city.
The old and the new coexist here. For every place like Caesar’s, or Tacos al Vapor Especial, which opened in 1952, or even the semi-recent Tacos el Franc, which opened in 1996, there are shiny new palaces of gastronomy.
My friend Broderick showed me some. First up was La Corriente Cevicheria Nais, a smallish chain with locations in TJ, Mexicali and Mexico City. Swanky interior, uniformed waiters (all men), and damn good almejas chocolatas — and if you’ve been reading this space, you know how I love raw clams!
I also tried a Baja classic, a sort of chorizo made with ground abalone. I know, right? Sounds like making a burger from unicorn tenderloin or something similarly extravagant. But historically, it wasn’t. The dish exists because way back when, in Baja, fish and seafood were everywhere, but regular meat wasn’t, which is why you see machaca (shredded, dried meat) made with rays and fish and such, as well as a strong smoked fish tradition and yes, ground up abalone spiced like chorizo.
Have to say the abalone chorizo was just OK, nothing special. I’d like to try it again without the blanket of pico and lettuce.
The other notable place Broderick and I went to was the Telefonica Gastro Park, a sort of glutton’s mall with craft beer, smoked meats, seafood, sweets, ice creams, you name it. The beer there wasn’t great — nothing like the Agua Mala Sirena pilsner I had earlier that day, which was epic — and the aguachile negro? Well, mine’s better. I should have ordered some smoked meats, but I was too full of seafood at the time.
Once again, the coffee scene in Baja rules. I have had phenomenal coffee in San Jose del Cabo, La Paz and Loreto in Baja Sur, and great coffee in Mexicali and Ensenada. Stood to reason that Tijuana would hold up its end, and it did. Not sure why coffee is so much better in Baja than in, say Chihuahua or Sonora, but it is. Take note.
Takeaways? You could spend months exploring Tijuana’s food scene. It is vibrant and fresh and exciting. And I felt completely safe doing so in daylight and early evening. It is still a city that if you are looking for trouble, you’ll find it. So don’t look for it and you’ll be as safe as you would in any large city.
Buen provecho!
Oh wow! It sounds fantastic, and I agree, go back for a retry on the abalone chorizo. Can smell and taste it through your words. Thank you for taking us along for part of your unforgettable edible journey. Can't wait to see what of this ends up in your book!
I love today’s tour of TJ! Thanks so much. Cannot wait to explore! . I was able to Google some things for translation. I need to learn Spanish! Still, I couldn’t draw a satisfactory bead on the meaning of “hojas de mixiotes.” What are these and why are they illegal in some places.