Taco means tiny taste of temptation. Satisfaction by a thousand different cuts of meat and veggies.
Is it just me, this wacko taco love affair? I don’t think so. Every San Diegan has a secret taco joint with the only guy in town who understands how to put together a taco, who appreciates the relationship between meat, salsa, and tortilla.
The real thing is, tacos are right for our town. We’re not about dressing up, formal surroundings, nit-picking over some tiny nouvelle cuisine pile in the middle of a drizzled plate that sets you back 30 buckaroos. Tacos are about good, affordable times for everyone.
Burrito equals boring, while taco ... aah! — Ed Bedford
Customers order two, four, six at a time — Ambrose Martin
Taco secrets waiting to be whispered — Ian Pike
It's a slippery, messy delight — Mary Beth Abate
Maybe the best surf-and-turf taco in town — Chad Deal
Difference-making fresh tortillas — Ian Anderson
The true cross-border spirit — Matthew Suarez
The little taco stand that started it all — Candice Reed
A bona fide food pilgrimage — Ernie Grimm
The rise of octopus — Patrick Henderson