Tacos El Franc, one of Tijuana's most esteemed taquerias, officially brought its delectable adobada to the United States last month, opening a bright new shop at the Westfield Plaza Bonita shopping mall in National City. And while there's a world of difference between the two locations, the most important turns out to be the opening hours.
Tijuanenses must wait until 3 or 4 in the afternoon to line up for El Franc tacos. The National City spot opens at 11am, every day. Which means it's good for lunch.
Blessedly, what hasn't changed are those adobada tacos. At least not enough for this norteamericano to notice.

I paid a visit to the Zona Rio location a few weeks back, to remind myself what makes El Franc's adobada tacos so tasty, and everything there seems to have translated here: the earthy achiote-adobo spice blend, the careless smear of guacamole; the glorious, served-hot sloppiness of it all. It's a good thing this new mall storefront taco shop is built to handle volume.
In Tijuana, the glistening, red rotisserie is front and center, just off the sidewalk, surrounded by a hodgepodge of tables and counters clustered around sizzling griddles and various taco assembly stations. Lightning fast prep, bustling servers, and constant customer churn leads to a barely contained chaos at the busiest times.

Taco fiends crowd around to watch a sure-handed taquero carve slivers of seasoned meat into warm tortillas, assembling tacos in a blur of flying condiments and muscle memory. You might have to wait to get your order in, but you'll likely be eating within two minutes of making it.
With its bright red tiles, a platoon of smiling uniformed servers, and professional PR polish, the National City version presents like a corrugated metal In-N-Out. Except it's dine-in only, and there's table service.

Tucked into a corner, you may find a few counter seats next to the trompo where you can watch tacos being made, but those bustling servers are armed with mobile devices to streamline ordering and provide contactless payment. This operation ensures that the tacos are eaten hot, and still served with surprising quickness. Okay, maybe not two minutes, but mine started showing up in less than four, and that was during a modest lunch rush.
The turnaround barely gave me enough time to settle in at my table on the large, shaded patio and notice that Tacos El Franc is now neighbor to a Broken Yolk brunch restaurant.

Much like eggs, you'll have to pay about four times as much to eat El Franc tacos in this country compared to Mexico—$4.65 apiece compared to 25 pesos. That's to be expected, but it's still worth reflecting on the disparity, even if it won't — and shouldn't — stop most of us from tearing through a couple of adobadas before digging into the other menu options. The $3.75 vegetariano tacos center boringly around beans and guac, but it's tough to go wrong with carne asada (with beans), cabeza, or suadero (brisket), with mixed-meat offerings and lengua as the premium protein ($5.65).

If you're jonesing for a mulita or crispy vampiro taco, it'll cost you yet more — 7 or 8 bucks to start — the extra expense bringing with it heavier portions of meat and thick melted cheese.
I wouldn't expect to be saying this about a mall restaurant, but here goes: you might find tacos as good at your occasional neighborhood taco shop, but I doubt you'll find better. El Franc is doing this morning, noon, and night.
Tacos El Franc, one of Tijuana's most esteemed taquerias, officially brought its delectable adobada to the United States last month, opening a bright new shop at the Westfield Plaza Bonita shopping mall in National City. And while there's a world of difference between the two locations, the most important turns out to be the opening hours.
Tijuanenses must wait until 3 or 4 in the afternoon to line up for El Franc tacos. The National City spot opens at 11am, every day. Which means it's good for lunch.
Blessedly, what hasn't changed are those adobada tacos. At least not enough for this norteamericano to notice.

I paid a visit to the Zona Rio location a few weeks back, to remind myself what makes El Franc's adobada tacos so tasty, and everything there seems to have translated here: the earthy achiote-adobo spice blend, the careless smear of guacamole; the glorious, served-hot sloppiness of it all. It's a good thing this new mall storefront taco shop is built to handle volume.
In Tijuana, the glistening, red rotisserie is front and center, just off the sidewalk, surrounded by a hodgepodge of tables and counters clustered around sizzling griddles and various taco assembly stations. Lightning fast prep, bustling servers, and constant customer churn leads to a barely contained chaos at the busiest times.

Taco fiends crowd around to watch a sure-handed taquero carve slivers of seasoned meat into warm tortillas, assembling tacos in a blur of flying condiments and muscle memory. You might have to wait to get your order in, but you'll likely be eating within two minutes of making it.
With its bright red tiles, a platoon of smiling uniformed servers, and professional PR polish, the National City version presents like a corrugated metal In-N-Out. Except it's dine-in only, and there's table service.

Tucked into a corner, you may find a few counter seats next to the trompo where you can watch tacos being made, but those bustling servers are armed with mobile devices to streamline ordering and provide contactless payment. This operation ensures that the tacos are eaten hot, and still served with surprising quickness. Okay, maybe not two minutes, but mine started showing up in less than four, and that was during a modest lunch rush.
The turnaround barely gave me enough time to settle in at my table on the large, shaded patio and notice that Tacos El Franc is now neighbor to a Broken Yolk brunch restaurant.

Much like eggs, you'll have to pay about four times as much to eat El Franc tacos in this country compared to Mexico—$4.65 apiece compared to 25 pesos. That's to be expected, but it's still worth reflecting on the disparity, even if it won't — and shouldn't — stop most of us from tearing through a couple of adobadas before digging into the other menu options. The $3.75 vegetariano tacos center boringly around beans and guac, but it's tough to go wrong with carne asada (with beans), cabeza, or suadero (brisket), with mixed-meat offerings and lengua as the premium protein ($5.65).

If you're jonesing for a mulita or crispy vampiro taco, it'll cost you yet more — 7 or 8 bucks to start — the extra expense bringing with it heavier portions of meat and thick melted cheese.
I wouldn't expect to be saying this about a mall restaurant, but here goes: you might find tacos as good at your occasional neighborhood taco shop, but I doubt you'll find better. El Franc is doing this morning, noon, and night.
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