That is what I need to eat, exclusively, for the next 472 years. The Tour De San Diego culinary adventure weekend was everything Emily and I carefully scripted and then some. We started the long weekend consuming fish tacos, fried calamari steaks, and beer way past my bedtime. I ended the Weekend of Overindulgence at a drag dinner theater show sipping on a froofy frozen cocktail called Gigi’s Ginger Thing watching drag queens with enviable assets shake their money makers. Just a typical SoCal weekend. For someone else.
South Beach, the bar with the tastiest fish tacos in town, was too dark for evidence of the inception of gastric indulgence on Thursday, but we started Friday off strong with kick ass authentic Mexican comida in the Barrio. Open at 8:30 am, closed at 3 pm, with a line around the block for most of those hours, this place is the real deal. $12 later, we had 2 fresh tacos, beans, rice, a homemade tamale IN a bowl of beans and rice and the freshest homemade tortillas this side of the border (which is only 12 miles away).
The spread. Before we killed it. That’s fresh cilantro piled on everything and hot sauce that could peel paint or blind an attacking ninja, should you ever have to do either of those things while eating lunch.
This actually looks pretty gross, but it’s not. It’s a fresh tamale submerged in beans and rice the consistency of porridge. AKA, molten hot lava in a bowl. BE PATIENT or risk permanent disfigurement.
But don’t worry, while you wait for the magic to cool, you can eat your tacos…
So as not to go into cardiac arrest in the first 24 hours, and because B is a pretty amazing back yard chef, we decided to stay in Friday night with jalapeno chicken wings (a specialty of our local butcher), a formidable piece of cow, red corn, grilled veggies and a salad (for show, really). Root beer cake was the post script. A messy one, since I managed to drop the pan into the oven while testing doneness and half of it broke in half. Impressive work.
(I’m not photoshop savvy enough to figure out how to make a single collage of the photos, so you’re stuck with the crappy formatting.)
The root beer cake was really good…for a chocolate cake. It has 2 cups of root beer in it, but doesn’t taste like root beer at all. This was disappointing until we decided to go to the grocery store…for more meat. Somehow during the course of dinner, we figured out we could fit yet another meal into the lineup, so we went to buy a pork shoulder…and came home with 3 kinds of ice cream to go with the cake. Disappointment, abated. Cake, consumed.
Saturday brought sunshine, ocean breezes and, holy crap, more food! The Mission is a SD breakfast institution. I think Emily ate there every morning of the week she was here for my wedding. Their cinnamon french toast is epic (though it’s really more like dessert than breakfast). Even with my unrivaled culinary skills, I can’t duplicate the greatness that is their rosemary potatoes. Their coffee ain’t half bad either.
French toast & Papas Loco. I’m running out of things to say about tasty food. And I’m getting tired thinking about all the digestion that took place. Thankfully (or not, depending on how you look at it), the food at the wedding was nothing worth writing home (or on this blog) about but we were still full from eating all the pulled pork B had been smoking all day anyway.
The last major meal of the weekend was a game-time, unplanned excursion. Hawaiian breakfast at a hole in the wall family owned diner-type place. Any place that serves fried rice and mac salad with breakfast can’t be bad. Well, unless the fried rice and mac salad are bad, but here they are not. Korean chicken & spam omelets…it’s what’s for breakfast.
I gave Emily over to the capable hands of American Airlines and proceeded to nap the hell out of that food coma, then attended the aforementioned drag show. For reasons I’m sure you can imagine, and because I’ve been told I’m capable of exercising discretion occasionally, I’m not going to post pictures of that adventure. Though I will tell you that I have a sudden desire to own a lot more sequins and fringe. Maybe not in the same outfit.