Authentic Taqueria Fare

We made a point to invite our friend Jessica to our Saturday night meal at Las Margaritas.

It’s not simply because Jessica is charming company (which she is, of course) but because of her experiences of life in San Diego.

You see, when Jessica lived her life in that filled-to-bursting metropolis, she had discovered a little taqueria that served, in her words, “the best Mexican food on the planet.”

It was a tiny place – no tables, just a single drive-through window –and it would force her to drive 20 miles to get her fix.

Think of that – are there any dishes that could prompt your taste buds to highjack your sensibilities and drive across 20 miles of asphalt-girded San Diego traffic to achieve satisfaction?

So, there we were, ready to put Las Margaritas to the test with a friend who could sniff out a peacock from a field of puffins. Maybe it wasn’t fair to the kitchen and the staff, but that’s why I’m paid the Big Bucks, plus I’m pretty ruthless when I’m hungry.

We were promptly seated in the expansive dining room and quickly ordered a round of margaritas and cervezas. Of course, it’s important to stay properly lubricated when sampling a Mexican menu.

The margaritas were delicious and, let me pull out my Spanish Phrase Book, grande. Even the medium-sized ones were only slightly smaller than the hot tub at my old apartment complex in Asheville. Were I daring enough to order a large, I’m pretty sure I’d have ended up doing the backstroke in the pond behind the restaurant. Happy, but supremely stupid.