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The last time I liked someone was two years ago. We had lingering picnics at Balboa Park. We played our favorite songs on my record player while lying side by side on my apartment floor. We were annoyingly adorable—but we hadn’t kissed. Then, he took me to Julian. After filling the sexual tension with road-trip chatter, we explored the town. We cooed at its charm, snapped polaroids in the graveyard, and somehow didn’t eat any pie. Eventually, like most romances, it ended, but the trip stuck with me.
Before our demise, we talked about visiting more of those cozy, romantic places I had wanted to go to: Idyllwild, Valle de Guadalupe, Catalina, and all of the California spots where coupledom seems to be the visa required for entry—if Instagram is to be believed—or are at least more enjoyable with someone by your side.
After the breakup, I felt like those destinations were off-limits. And if I did go, I thought it might be a study in boredom. But after spending a good chunk of time researching the single life, I am happy to report that there’s plenty of other places and ways to fill one’s time.
As we look towards Valentine’s Day—a holiday typically reserved for couples—I think it’s high time to buck the romance myths of these San Diego–adjacent getaways and enjoy them solo. No partner required.
Bloodlust Valle
Valle de Guadalupe is a home away from home for the oenophiles of San Diego. It’s closer than Napa and has a culinary scene that can put its dukes up against any Thomas Keller concept.
Don’t have SENTRI? Start your cross-border sojourn by securing a driver to pick you up once you land in Tijuana. People & Planet is a friendly service that offers custom tours or simple driver service if you want to plan your own itinerary.
There is no shortage of wineries in the valley, but the standouts are natural wines made by female winemakers. Be sure to visit Pouya, helmed by Fernanda Para. Last seen in San Diego at 2022’s NatDiego natural wine festival, Para makes natural wines that complement, rather than fight, the natural terroir of Valle. Try her skin-contact chenin blanc and—if there are any bottles left—her collab with Tecate’s Bichi Winery, a pét-nat of colombard called (wait for it…) Pichi. Henri Lurton and Bruma also make the shortlist for winery visits.
For an overnight stay, Siempre Valle is a hotel-meets-vacation rental that has sprawling views of vines and some of the best off-season rates around. Take a quick room respite, then start your evening with some local bubbles and oysters at the charming Conchas de Piedra to, well, aphrodisiac yourself.
Cap off a stay with dinner at the newly opened hipster staple, Bloodlust, a wine bar. The architecture of the grounds nearly outshines the stellar food and natural wine list, as it plays host to an amphitheater- like stage for live music, while local DJs command the decks inside the garlic-bulb-shaped restaurant. (Blood… vampires… garlic… get it?) If you didn’t get enough wine in, stop by Baja Divina, a wine shop brought to you by Lauren Plascencia, daughter of chef and hospitality giant Javier Plascencia.
Julian cidery
To keep it even more local, go quaint with a jaunt to Julian. Known for its homespun charm, Julian is an ideal place to stroll on your own and take things slow. Bring a journal and snag a bench in the Julian Pioneer Cemetery that overlooks the town, featuring famous corpses dating back to the 1870s, including Julian’s founder, Drury Bailey.
Once you depart the home of the departed, peruse the bucolic vendors on Main Street, like the Antique Boutique that peddles vintage wares or the Julian Book House to find funky used volumes. Take a breather from touristing and settle in for bites and sips at Julian Beer Co., your North Park away from home, featuring nearly 15 rotating house beers and a shaded patio. If you’re abstaining, head to the cute and kitsch at the Julian Tea & Cottage Arts where you can have high tea for one with finger sandwiches and all the Laura Ashley décor you can handle.
On the way home, take a detour at Lake Cuyamaca, the 110-acre body of water that is surrounded by the wilderness of Lake Cuyamaca State Park, with campgrounds and water activities. Since you’re by yourself and can’t make out on the docks, opt for a meditative walk or a paddle boat (quite the workout for one) or kayak rental. Grab lunch at The Pub at Cuyamaca, partly owned by the same folks as Julian Beer Co.
The 420 room at Idyllwild’s Hicksville Pines is decked out in plush furnishings and glow-in-the- dark psychedelic velvet posters.
Due north some ways in the mountains is Idyllwild. This unassuming mountain town is home to some of the most creative getaways, namely the 420-friendly Hicksville Pines Chalets & Motel. With 11 themed rooms, ranging from a palace of Dolly Parton worship to a Twin Peaks reimagination of David Lynch’s Black Lodge and a suite rocking perennial Christmas trimmings, there is a room for everyone’s quirk. Pro tip? Enjoy the gratis nug you get upon arrival while lounging in the jacuzzi. (Bonus points if you go when the tub is surrounded by mounds of snow.) Who needs company for that?
After your submerged relaxation, head to the town to find a string of thrift stores and search for the off-the-beaten-path Speakeasy Books for graphic novels, books, and games. Interested in less indoors and more outdoors? Gear up for a hike at loops like Suicide Rock, Deer Springs Trails, and Panorama Point. Things close early in town, so get ready for the wind down with a bottle from the Wine Finch natural wine shop or wine and dine yourself at Ferro, the town’s hotspot Italian bistro.
Bustling-with-boat-traffic Avalon Harbor on Catalina Island.
Photo: Love Catalina
For San Diegans, snow is a novelty, but water is home. Catalina Island is familiar enough with its beachy surroundings but exotic and far away enough to soothe the travel itch. Drive up to Dana Point, then take in the sea air on the hour-and-a-half Catalina Express ferry that will set you back just under $100 for a round-trip ticket to the main town of Avalon. Rent a golf cart to see the beachy cliffs and local Bison lowing, or bathe in the winter sun (it does exist) at Crescent Beach.
Sink into the island life and take yourself out to Luau Larry’s. Is it a tourist trap? Yes, but if someone has to cuff me, I want it to be Larry. This decades-old tiki bar is an institution for a reason. Have a Wicki Wacker and revel in your excellent decision-making. To make things chicer, head to the Naughty Fox and sup on crab sandwiches in modern surroundings. If you decide to stay the night (probably a good idea after Larry’s) and want to splurge, consider houseboat rentals to live as some intrepid locals do. If you want to do a deep dive of the island, head to the only other town, Two Harbors, and glamp it at Whites Landing with its two-person tents just to yourself, just offshore.
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Credit: James Tran
San Diegans have long known that Valle de Guadalupe—with a vibe that’s equally rugged and elegant—is a big deal. Located 90-minutes south of the city, the region’s lack of wine making regulations have earned this slice of Baja California a reputation as a wild west wine country.
Both media and visitors frequently refer to the Valle de Guadalupe as having the scrappy, experimental, and DIY vibe of Napa 40-odd years ago, only drought-ier.
In the last decade or so, chic boutique hotels and glamping outfits among its vineyards followed. Their arrivals, along with a growing nightclub scene, marks a turning point for the region—the rustic playground has reached the mainstream wanderlust psyche, the relative lack of water notwithstanding.
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Credit: Jenni Hwang
In more recent years, music festivals have popped up across the Valle amid growing opposition to large-scale events by community members intent on preserving the delicate land as an agricultural region.
With the return of the Valle Food & Wine Festival, it’s fair to ask: Will a food and wine event, along with its bevy of bi-national chefs, help or hurt the cause?
Five years ago a group of friends – including culinary journalist and author Carolynn Carreño, Baja local superstar chef Javier Plascencia, and famous stateside chef Nancy Silverton – wanted a reason to give back to the region with a nonprofit tie-in. “Let’s start a food festival,” they decided after a little too much wine, Carreño recalls.
“Everything that’s happened has been a natural evolution,” Carreño, the director of the weekend-long festival, says of the years since. “We didn’t have a business plan.” Even so, attendance doubled in size every year. This year, after three pandemic-related years off, they’re back and debuting a more intimate affair.
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Credit: James Tran
“A lot of chefs, winemakers, and farmers of the region are against massive events,” Carreño says. A grassroots organization called Por un Valle de Verdad, seems to be leading this charge.The group has organized protests and spoken out against large events that weren’t wine or gastronomy-focused.
So things at Valle Food & Wine are getting smaller. Event organizers are capping attendance for each day of the festival at 1,000 people to comply with the organization’s wishes. “I’m not sure if it’s a wish or a law,” Carreño says, but they’re on board. As a guest, a smaller event has its advantages, such as fewer lines for food and restrooms.
Representing San Diego chefs will be both Erik Aronow, who leads the culinary team at Puesto and Marisi, and chef Brian Redzikowski of Kettner Exchange. Aronow is one of many chefs in awe of the region’s agricultural abundance, fresh seafood, and singular dining experiences in secluded settings. Like dining under a 200-year-old oak tree surrounded by wine grapes at Animalón, which is also run by Plascencia on the grounds of another restaurant of his, Finca Altozano.
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Credit: Jenni Hwang
Plus there’s more open flame cooking going on in the Valle than anywhere in San Diego, which Aronow admits he’s been doing more of thanks in part to having spent time in the region.
“There’s flavors that can’t be replicated no matter how expensive your pots and pans are, and how expensive your range is,” Aronow says of the ancient cooking technique. “Building and maintaining a fire is a skill and a labor of love. You don’t throw the food over the hottest part, it’s managing the heat levels and the smoke levels and the flames, it’s a really intimate process.”
And as developers and concert promoters continue to seek a presence in the area, Valle Food & Wine’s banking on the influence of the culinary community involved in this event. With exceptions, “The vast majority of the chefs [participating] have never been [to the Valle],” Carreño says. “In that way we are opening the eyes to a sophisticated gastronomic public and that’s what the region is hoping for.”
Valle Food & Wine Festival takes place October 21-23 at Bruma.
Have breaking-news, exciting scoops, or great stories about San Diego’s food scene? Send your pitches to [email protected].
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]]>There’s never been a better time to explore our next-door neighbor. It’s now a breeze to hop on a flight out of Tijuana airport, and Mexican airlines have launched many new nonstops, making much of the country more accessible than ever to San Diegans. That’s why we went beyond Baja to cover the country from coast to coast. It’s not a comprehensive guide, but a good jumping-off point to experience the magical parts of the country. Through these pages, take a quick tour of Mexico starting at the jungles and shores on its Caribbean side, then work your way west back home. ¡Vámonos!
Cancún || Oaxaca City || San Miguel de Allende
Mexico City || Guadalajara || Mazatlán || Puerto Vallarta
Los Cabos || Loreto || Ensenada || Rosarito || Valle de Guadalupe || Tijuana
There’s more to this Caribbean paradise than clubs filled with spring breakers—if you know where to stay.
Guide to Mexico – Cancún
“Just play it cool, Letchworth,” my wife says as we exit our airport shuttle. “You belong here as much as anyone else.” I immediately fail this test when a bellhop asks if he can take my heavy suitcase, and on instinct I say, “Oh, no thanks! I can manage.” To his credit, he nods and waits until I’m distracted—by the two glasses of Champagne at check-in—to whisk it off anyway. We’re not at the Interstate Frontage Road Super 8 anymore, Toto.
This is just the first taste of a consistent standard of luxurious attendance at Grand Fiesta Americana Coral Beach (rooms from $347). Kohleun and I pride ourselves on being seasoned travelers, but as our 20s waned, so did our capacity for sleeping on the floor of the Amtrak observation car. On our first trip as a couple, it took only one night sharing a hostel room with six backpackers to realize we could afford to raise our standards a little.
And yet, stepping into our king-size suite, which could hold both my old studio apartments and opens onto a perfect Caribbean horizon, I’m still out of my depth. We’ve gotten the resort’s new premium package, “Ú,” whose amenities are so numerous we keep stumbling across their brochures like a scavenger hunt.
“Complimentary 30-minute WaveRunner ride for two?” I boggle.
“Unlimited access to the Gem Spa!” Kohleun prioritizes.
And just as I tear into the minibar’s unlimited supply of peanut-butter crackers, she waves the room service menu at me and says, “Let’s think bigger.”
It’s easy to imagine how differently this trip might’ve gone back when we were living on barista and adjunct-professor money and still had iron livers. We passed by that scene on our way in: the all-night Señor Frog and Friends party district. Since the drinking age in Mexico is 18, Cancún’s Hotel Zone is notorious for attracting American coeds looking for a spring break they’ll never remember.
But we’re here to give Cancún a second look, from the perspective of someone who can appreciate finer things at a more deliberate pace. And the Grand Fiesta Americana doesn’t disappoint: Its philosophy of service is to anticipate their guests’ every need.
Overhearing us mention wanting to go into town, a lobby rep offers a primer on local public transit. At Le Basilic restaurant, the servers not only place our napkins in our lap but replace them whenever we leave the table. In the “Grand Club” VIP beach section, an attendant bounds up with fresh towels whenever we emerge from the sea. There’s even somebody waiting by the back doors to wash the sand from our feet. Middle-class guilt flaring, it’s all we can do to make it rain with tips.
They must be on top of Quintana Roo’s reported seaweed problem, too, as both the hotel’s private beach and the closest public one are equally pristine. I embark on the Gem Spa’s Ten-Step Hydrotherapy Program with an open mind (and a stomach full of carbs, which step one, The Steam Room, expressly warns against). Kohleun loves step three, The Clay Room. I’m skeptical of step six, The Ice Room (aka “rub a snowball on yourself”), but the uninterrupted device-free time to be present, the hourlong massage add-on, and the concluding nap under a warm blanket turn my biological clock back a year.
Granted, you don’t have to leave the country (or even the county) to vacation like royalty. So what does Cancún have for the over-30 crowd that you can’t see anywhere else? The Mayan cities of Chichen Itza and Tulum are 138 and 84 miles away, respectively, but since we can’t spare a day trip on our brief stay, we get our archaeology fix at the nearby Museo Maya and at El Rey, a village with surviving temple walls, lintels, and colonnades from the sixth century, now home to an iguana kingdom.
Back at the hotel, our dinners on both nights are the pinnacle of the whole experience. La Joya restaurant’s tequila tasting pairs an añejo, a blanco, and a reposado with the proper vessel and chaser to bring out their full character. I’m no food critic, but I can tell you that their traditional Mexican cuisine was delicious and artfully presented—helped in part by the 10-piece mariachi band who had a new song for every table. Curiously, their fanciest venue, Le Basilic, is French. A live grand piano player serenades us through all five courses there, the final gilded punctuation on my nagging delirium of Whose life is this?
But by the time we leave, I’ve come to a different perspective on Five-Diamond travel. This standard of luxury may be routine for some of our fellow guests, but for most of them, a place like this is something they’ve saved up for and looked forward to for a long time. The aspiring Instagram star from Korea, who models three different swimsuits while her new husband gamely fixes the tripod in the sand; the Indian family whose five kids make dinosaur noises in the pool—these guests have learned well that money is best spent on experiences, not things. And it’s plain on their faces that they’ll remember this one for a long time.
Kohleun was right; we do belong here—and so does anyone else. —Dan Letchworth
Oaxaca’s state capital is not only one of Mexico’s most affordable destinations, its culinary scene and natural wonders are priceless.
Guide to Mexico — Oaxaca City Street
There’s no shortage of lodging in Oaxaca City. You can spot a colonial building turned boutique hotel on almost every block of this walkable metropolis, but there’s a few stays that reign supreme. Built as a convent in the 1500s, Quinta Real Oaxaca has 91 rooms, a pool, and a courtyard that looks miraculously untouched by time. Within its walls, you’ll find peace and quiet, despite its primo location in the heart of the city. For a boutique option, book one of the six suites at Casa Antonieta. It does draw a younger crowd, thanks to its contemporary decor combined with the Instagrammable Spanish Colonial design that’s been kept intact. And foodies should look no further than Casa Oaxaca. The seven-room hotel’s most renowned for its restaurant of the same name, led by chef Alejandro Ruiz, whom you can book a culinary tour or cooking class with during your stay. If you’re hoping to sleep on the cheap, there’s vacation property rentals aplenty, starting around $30 per night.
When in Oaxaca, you go to the markets to get up close and personal with the local ingredients. At Mercado 20 de Noviembre, you can find all the regional staples prepared right in front of you—tlayuda (a huge fried tortilla smeared with refried beans and typically topped with chorizo and other veggies), tejate (a frothy chocolate drink made from corn), and tangy chapulines (grasshoppers). But the real draw here is that you can grill your own meats.
To put some pep back in your step, wander into one of the city’s many stylish cafés. Café Brújula has a bookstore attached to it, and Café Nuevo Mundo and Café Café have a menu with vegan and vegetarian options. Go to Expendio Tradición for a lunch or dinner shared-plates experience, and don’t pass up the ceviche (served with nuts and jicama for crunch) or the memela, a fried masa cake smothered with refried beans and sampling of proteins.
For fine-dining, book a reservation at Criollo, a restaurant founded by chef Enrique Olvera (of Pujol fame) that uses only local ingredients. Due to that, they serve only a seven-course prix-fixe menu that changes daily. For another upscale option, book a reservation at Los Danzantes, an open-air restaurant—with an upstairs bar, Selva, to boot. Order the Selva cocktail, which is topped with a piece of Oaxacan cheese that’s meant to be a little appetizer before your real feast.
No matter where you get your fill, there are many mezcalerias in Oaxaca City to enjoy a digestif or nightcap.
Guide to Mexico — Oaxaca City
“Shop till you drop” (hopefully at a mezcaleria) is many visitors’ mentality in Oaxaca City. The town’s brimming with street vendors selling their wares, from clay pottery to colorful clothing. You can find them at Mercado Benito Juarez, neighboring Mercado 20 de Noviembre, and in front of Templo de Santo Domingo during the day. But to put your money right where the makers make, visit Mujeres Artesanas de las Regiones de Oaxaca. The women’s collective sells textiles sewn on site. When you’re ready to give shopping a break, pay a visit to one of the city’s many museums, like Museo de las Culturas, Museo Textil (Oaxaca is known for its textiles), or the Jardín Etnobotánico—but for a real natural wonder, book a tour or drive yourself to Hierve el Agua (photo below). About two hours from the city, this “petrified waterfall” has pools of liquid water on top, where you can take a dip or an incredible pic. There’s also the option to do a one-mile hike to see the awe-inspiring formation from below and the wild air plants along the path.
Lastly, spirit lovers shouldn’t miss the “World Capital of Mezcal,” Santiago Matatlan, about an hour from Oaxaca City and totally unassuming. On the drive out, you’ll spot clouds of smoke across the agave fields (earthen pit roasting gives mezcal its smoky flavor and is the key to agave cooking). Once in the village, make Gracios a Dios your first stop. The mezcaleria recently underwent a modern makeover and also makes its own gin. Many bottle shops dot the main drag, so you can grab more spirits to take home. Salud to that! —Sarah Pfledderer
Set at 6,000 feet and about 150 miles outside of Mexico City, this beguiling, Colonial-era town (and UNESCO World Heritage Site) is famous for its stunning architecture and boasts a Pueblo Mágico designation. Here you’ll discover progressive gastronomy, lively rooftop bars, vibrant marketplaces, and galleries galore.
La Parroquia de San Miguel Arcángel
Located in the heart of the historic city, the luxurious Rosewood San Miguel de Allende has 67 Spanish hacienda-style guest rooms with terraces or balconies—and a rooftop with unbeatable sunset views of La Parroquia de San Miguel Arcángel, the town’s famed Gaudi-esque neo-Gothic church. A new crop of boutique hotels have transformed several colonial mansions into intimate stays. Hotel Amparo, a five-room hideaway that’s an easy walk from El Jardín (the city center), is bedecked in midcentury furnishings, local art, and a high-end coffee bar to boot. Enjoy small-batch French wines and Creole bites on the roof or sip an Aperol spritz on the terrace surrounded by greenery, fountains, and birdsong. For a touch of the modern, Hotel Matilda sports minimalist deluxe rooms, a rooftop infinity pool, and an exciting collection of contemporary Latin art.
Hotel Amparo
In the shadows of the towering Parroquia church, Quince draws a crowd for its rooftop DJ scene, mind-bending views, and playful menu. Start with tuna sashimi in jalapeño ponzu sauce from the sushi bar, then follow with lamb barbacoa dumplings or roasted ají pepper pork loin served in a corn husk. Enrique Olvera of Pujol fame fired up the San Miguel dining scene with Moxi at Hotel Matilda back in 2011, and today it’s still a radical palate pleaser with inventive dishes like red mole and pork belly, or tender octopus atop risotto with huitlacoche—a corn fungus delicacy. Chef Marco Cruz puts a contemporary spin on Mexican cuisine at Nomada, offering an insanely affordable yet delish six-course tasting menu on Wednesdays: esquites (toasted corn) with capers, epazote mayo, and black truffles; crème brûlée topped with beet puree; artisanal Mexican beer, wine, and mezcal. Marlin tacos, rooftop beats, and more electrifying late-night views of the city make La Única another must-stop. For a sugar fix, Café San Agustín serves up the city’s best churros and dipping chocolates.
A streetscape in San Miguel de Allende
Stroll the central plaza or post up on a park bench in El Jardín to take in the parade of people and sights, like the traditional walking serenades (callejoneadas), wedding parties who dance through the streets behind giant bride-and-groom papier-mâché puppets called mojigangas, accompanied by mariachis and tequila-laden donkeys festooned in paper flowers. There’s threads by up-and-coming Mexican designers at La Colektiva HojaSanta, handmade ceramics and tableware at Trinitate, bags and boots at Talula de la Lune, shawls, blankets, and ponchos at boho-chic Mixta, and aromatic potions and lotions at La Victoriana.
Meander through Fábrica la Aurora, a former textile factory that now houses galleries, cafés, art studios, and fabrics. Then, eat your way through the sprawling Mercado de Artesanías, where locals sell grilled street corn, tamales, and handmade sweets, along with jewelry, rugs, pottery, and more. Peruse the collection of vintage and handcrafted Mexican toys at Museo la Esquina, or peek inside La Parroquia to see its chandeliers and Baroque architecture. Finally, head to Casa Dragones. Behind the massive wooden doors awaits a stylish tasting room in the former 17th-century stables of the queen’s cavalry—a magical place to sip refined tequila and hear the tale of Mexico’s break from Spain. —Ann Wycoff
San Miguel’s less touristy neighbor is a former silver mining town that’s now a wonderland of the arts and rich in culture. Here are 7 ways to enjoy it.
1. Check in to Casa del Rector, then take a dip in the infinity pool with a mezcal margarita in hand and drink in the town’s patchwork of color and the mountain views.
2. Discover Don Quixote. Head to the Museo Iconográfico del Quijote and take in the artwork and sculptures of Cervantes’ favorite character. Every fall, the city holds Festival Internacional Cervantino, a celebration of art, literature, theater, film, and dance.
3. Pay homage to Diego Rivera. Explore the famed muralist and painter’s birth house and see some of his earlier work at the Museo Casa de Diego Rivera, and then go café hopping in nearby Plaza de San Fernando.
4. Ride the funicular up to Monumento al Pipila, a colossal statue of a War of Independence hero at one of the best viewpoints in town. Afterward, get lost while wandering back down through the city’s colorful alleyways.
5. Get spooked at El Museo de Las Momias, Guanajuato’s mummy museum next to the old cemetery.
6. Catch a performance at one of the town’s three gorgeous theaters: Cervantes, Juárez, or Principal.
7. Eat sweet corn and jalapeño fritters at Los Campos, enjoy live jazz or flamenco at La Capellina, then cap the evening with a mango chai cone at Estación Gelato.
This city of 8.8 million people has everything you’d expect from a buzzing metropolis—history, shopping, and five-star food—but a trip to Ciudad de México also promises plenty of nature to make for a balanced urban getaway.
Palacio des Bellas Artes
Considering its mix of fine dining and thousands of street vendors, booking a trip to Mexico City entails meal planning. Start in the Colonia Roma neighborhood at either of two locations of Panadería Rosetta. Despite its European ethos and flaky croissants, you can also snack on traditional Mexican pastries like conchas and guava danishes. Contramar is a quintessential Mexico City seafood and mezcal experience, where chef-owner Gabriela Cámara turns out octopus aguachile and mouthwatering tuna tostadas with crispy leeks in the hip Condesa neighborhood. Traveling with picky eaters? Mercado Roma food hall is packed with something for everyone, from tacos and empanadas to pizza and burgers. Come dinnertime, there are lots of high-end experiences in the swanky Polanco neighborhood, like the Chef’s Table–featured Pujol, but we love the lower key but still stellar vibe at Quintonil, where Jorge Vallejo (a Pujol protégé) and his wife, Alejandra Flores, have cultivated a sophisticated yet approachable menu of Mexican classics with plenty of vegetarian options that earned the restaurant 11th place on 2018’s World’s 50 Best Restaurants (yes, you need a reservation). No matter how full you are, save room for hot, crispy churros dipped in chocolate, caramel, or condensed milk sauces at Churrería El Moro (multiple locations).
Mexico City has all the big-name hotels—from Marriott to the new Sofitel—around busy Avenida Paseo de la Reforma, but the city specializes in design-centric options that make for a more unique stay. There’s hip minimalism and a rooftop pool at Hotel Habita in Polanco, the peaceful Chaya B&B housed in a 1920s building near the city center, and the intimate, four-room Nima Local House Hotel (occupying a literal old house) in Roma Norte that includes breakfast with your room rate.
Frida Kahlo Museum
A stroll through the Zócalo, the historic city plaza, offers plenty to see in one shot, including grand churches, the Estela de Luz monument, and the Palacio Nacional. The impressive government building requires a passport for entry and is home to Diego Rivera’s famous History of Mexico mural. (Seeing the work and home of his wife, Frida Kahlo, at her eponymous museum in Coyoacán is also a must, but you’ll need a reservation.) At Castillo de Chapultepec, explore nooks and crannies in the former fortress of Mexican leaders, with preserved rooms, artifacts, paintings, and manicured gardens on a hilltop that offers a bird’s-eye view of the city. And as urban as it may be, Mexico City is surprisingly green. Bosque de Chapultepec, twice the size of New York’s Central Park, has tree-lined paths for walking and running.
Make time to see the Ballet Folklórico at the stunning Palacio des Bellas Artes. The traditional folk dance shows take the stage Wednesday evenings and Sunday mornings most times of the year, and you can buy tickets at the box office about an hour before showtime. Find more culture at Mercado Ciudadela, a nearly 60-year-old market of Mexican handicrafts. They do sell some requisite cheesy souvenirs, but there are quality textiles and home decor, too.
Your hotel or a local tour company can book tours to Teotihuacán, a UNESCO World Heritage Site one hour from the city. Here, you can see (and climb) the famed pre-Aztec pyramids built between the first and seventh centuries. Bring a hat, sunscreen, and sunglasses—there’s little to no shade. –Archana Ram
The capital of Jalisco state, Guadalajara is in many ways also the capital of Mexican culture. Locals have diligently preserved traditions that were born here, from tequila production and mariachi music to charrería, a rodeo-like competition that’s become Mexico’s national sport.
Tlaquepaque
Originally a private residence in the 1940s, Casa Habita is in the heart of Guadalajara’s hip and walkable Colonia Lafayette neighborhood, where tree-lined streets point you toward cool concept shops and romantic architecture. When it opens next month, the shiny new 11-room Casa Rébora is expected to be an even bigger draw, with its 24/7 restaurant and bar decked out in nothing but pink. Or find a home base in Tlaquepaque—a Pueblo Mágico in the metropolitan area’s southern outskirts, about 30 minutes away—at the richly designed Juana Bautista. The restored 16th-century colonial mansion played a part in Mexico’s independence.
Find unrivaled people-watching at the city’s oldest cantina, La Fuente, which serves no-frills drinks like tequila shots and ice-chilled beer bottles (there is no fridge) and not much else. By day, snack on street food like verduro gordo (steamed veggies topped with Cotija cheese, mayo, and spicy salsa macha) or the local torito (meat, onions, cilantro, and beans in a flour tortilla, smothered in cheese and baked until bubbly) at roving carts and in market stalls.
For dinnertime, make reservations at Hueso, where the menu changes daily and everyone sits together as compañeros among thousands of chef-collected animal bones that line the whitewashed walls. Last year, one of the owners opened Veneno, an earth-toned, cavelike space perfect for sipping cazuela (a typical Guadalajaran alcoholic punch) and a boozy spin on tejuino, a staple beverage made from fermented corn. When a hankering for late-night nibbles hits, head to Guilty, a bar and restaurant that would feel right at home in North Park—with masterfully made $5 cocktails.
For an elegant afternoon out, join the well-heeled families of Guadalajara at Casa Luna, a whimsical restaurant with live music and toothsome fare tucked inside one of Tlaquepaque’s old mansions.
Palacio de Gobierno
By law, tequila can be made only in certain areas, and almost all of the blue-agave-based spirit comes from Jalisco. On Saturdays, the José Cuervo Express and Tequila Herradura Express trains celebrate this, departing Guadalajara for the drink’s namesake town, taking passengers on indulgent daylong tours of the distillation process from piña to glass.
In Guadalajara, experience unique Mexican culture at Lienzo Charros de Jalisco, where highly regarded, immaculately dressed charros compete on horseback every Sunday, while onlookers cheer, sip tequila, and sing along with mariachis. Known as charrería, the rodeo-like competition honors the country’s animal husbandry traditions and is on UNESCO’s Representative List of the Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity.
Tour neoclassical architecture and landmarks of political history simultaneously in Centro Histórico, where the controversial, larger-than-life frescos of muralist José Clemente Orozco (a contemporary of Diego Rivera) depict the struggle between indigenous populations and Europeans during the Mexican Revolution. He painted an astounding 57 frescos in just two years at Instituto Cultural Cabañas, a World Heritage Site, but don’t skip the Palacio de Gobierno, a gorgeous 18th-century government building where a masterpiece overlooks the grand staircase.
Wander for hours through Mercado Libertad (locally called “San Juan de Dios”), Latin America’s largest indoor market. No matter what you’re on the hunt for—bruja (witch) herbs, Mexican candies, leather goods, huarache sandals, woven bags, studded saddles, an extra duffel for souvenirs—you’ll find it here while hopelessly (and joyfully) lost in the labyrinth. —Hannah Lott-Schwartz
In this beachfront colonial city in Sinaloa, days spent on tranquil seas and golden sands can be followed up with strolls in the Centro Histórico and nights at the opera. Despite widespread violence in other areas of the state, travelers to this resort city have little to fear—and so much to gain—on its forgotten shores.
The Malecón
Nearly a century has elapsed since Mexico’s first beach resorts sprang up in this Pacific Coast port city, luring Ernest Hemingway. In the interim, Los Cabos, Puerto Vallarta, and Cancún stole the show. Worse, the city’s location in the cartel-violence-plagued state of Sinaloa tarnished its image.
But over the years, vast sums have been invested to restore the Pearl of the Pacific’s luster. The historic district has been exquisitely restored. The 13-mile Malecón, the world’s second longest waterfront walkway, has been revitalized. An impressive new aquarium and central park are under construction. And ever more high-rise hotels pierce the sky.
After a period of diminishing calls, cruise ships have returned, too: 130 docked in Mazatlán last year. Two-thirds of the city’s 3.5 million visitors are Mexicans, so you’ll find yourself rubbing elbows with travelers exploring this intriguing corner of their own country.
Welcome to the Shrimp Capital of the World. Aguachile and ceviche are the reigning dishes here. Be warned: Sinaloans do not shy from heat. You can get your first taste of aguachile from vendors right on the beach in the Golden Zone. Another local classic is camarones a la diabla, shrimp in a fiery red sauce of tomatoes and pureed guajillo and chile de árbol peppers. Beyond a bounty of mariscos, Sinaloa is famous for chilorio, slow-cooked shredded pork made with citrus, ancho chiles, and apple cider vinegar. Along with Pacífico beer, brewed here since 1900, meals are washed down with ToniCol, a local vanilla-infused cream soda.
Whether for dinner or just drinks, plan an evening at El Presidio Cocina de México. Through a corridor off a side street, enter a 170-year-old mansion transformed into an enchanted courtyard. Dine on modern Mexican dishes like pork shank in banana leaf or duck confit burritos in the shade of towering banyan trees. In the heart of the historic district, Casa 46’s marlin tacos and lobster chimichangas pair fine dining with a seductive view of Plazuela Machado.
Homes lining Calle Angel Flores
The name of the tourist-friendly Golden Zone came from 49ers headed to California, but it may as well have been inspired by its miles of soft sand. Mazatlán’s resorts tower above the beach here, cutting an impressive skyline. The air is filled with the brassy sound of banda music, serenading beachgoers. It’s a wonderful home base, if touristy and slightly removed from the historic core. Travelers will find deluxe amenities at Golden Zone resorts like the El Cid El Moro Beach Hotel (double rooms from $115) or Pueblo Bonito Mazatlán Beach Resort (double rooms from $175). Many Golden Zone rooms feature kitchenettes to accommodate families. For boutique digs closer to the historic core that still offer ocean views, check out the eight-room Casa Lucila Hotel Boutique at the southern end of the Malecón (rooms from $260).
Glorieta Rodolfo Sanchez Taboada Park
Founded in 1531, Mazatlán is busy port city of a half million residents. To feel it out, flag down a pulmonía—one of the open-air taxi carts that are unique to Mazatlán. Take a ride along the city’s main artery: the impressive Malecón. (There are also bikeshare stations). Connecting the historic district and the resort-studded Golden Zone, it packs in so much of what there is to love: a stunning coastline, endless cafés serving mariscos, and Old World architecture.
At Olas Altas Beach, find a century-old renovated saltwater swimming pool with an eye-catching corkscrew slide. Continue to the Glorieta Rodolfo Sánchez Taboada park, where cliff divers plunge into the sea. A short stroll away, next to the leafy Plaza de la República, stands one of Mexico’s architectural treasures: Mazatlán’s Basilica Cathedral. Begun in 1856 and still the city’s main house of worship, it encompasses Gothic, Moorish, and Baroque styles, and holds a trove of ornate art and stained glass windows. Before dark, locate the super-photogenic jewel-toned homes along Calle Angel Flores.
Dating to the 1830s, the Centro Histórico, or Old Town, is a mélange of French, Italian, and German Neoclassical architecture. Art galleries, boutiques, and cafés pack the cobblestone streets. (At night, the sidewalks are lit by recessed ground lights, lending the quarter a spellbinding glow.) At its center lies the dreamy, tree-lined Plaza Machado. Steps away is the Ángela Peralta Theater, named for a beloved soprano who led a tragic life. The three-level Italian Romantic opera house, built in 1874, fell into disrepair decades ago but has since been impeccably restored. It’s a gorgeous place to take in dance, music, or theater performances.
Plaza Machado
On the beach, keep an eye out for whales and sea turtles, like the protected olive ridleys that lay their eggs on shores to the north. From August to December, tourists can join conservationists to release baby turtles from the Verde-Camacho Turtle Sanctuary. The jungly Isla de Venados sports an irresistible stretch of white sand; it and neighboring Isla de Pájaros lie less than a mile offshore. Both are ecological sanctuaries accessible by sailboat, banana boat, or personal watercraft, for rent on the beach. You can hire a guide to show you around while you keep a lookout for tropical seabirds like the blue-footed booby.
Haul in some marlin and sailfish on deep sea fishing trips, which are popular here in the Billfish Capital of the World (another of Mazatlán’s monikers). Diehard surfers won’t find Cabo-quality waves, but rideable surf turns up year-round, with the best swells in summer. As the name suggests, Olas Altas Beach provides consistent conditions in a picturesque urban setting.
Less of a spring-break hot spot than it was in years past, Mazatlán’s nightlife isn’t of the plastic-yard-glass variety. However, revelers flood the city each February to celebrate Carnaval, the third largest in the hemisphere. –Chase Scheinbaum
Beyond the docks of the shrimp fleet, the harbor tapers into narrow waterways fringed with dark green mangrove trees. Just a few miles from the city, this tidal lagoon is an important nursery for the region’s famed crustaceans. Recognized as critical for many critters, it’s a protected habitat well worth a half-day visit provided by King David Tour Company. You board a tractor outfitted with bench seats, and it delivers you to a stretch of wind-lashed beach that may as well be a deserted island.
Mazatlecos are avid baseball fans. Catch their team, the Venados, at the recently renovated Estadio Teodoro Mariscal.
The verdant Sierra Madre mountains are home to charming pueblos like El Verano, population 250. Just 45 minutes away, it caters to adventure lovers—with a taste for tequila. Veraneando Adventure arranges tours, including transportation from Mazatlán, that’ll take you zip-lining over gorges choked in cardon cactus, floating the lazy Presidio River, or revving ATVs over rocky trails. Afterward, soak in a hot spring and get a tasting tour of the town’s agave distillery.
If you haven’t been in a while, here’s five reasons to revisit this resort town.
Playa Los Muertos pier in Puerto Vallarta
Puerto Vallarta has long been known for its tropical beauty, amazing dining, and fantastic resorts. Now, plush new hotels are popping up in Vallarta proper, putting a new twist on a consistent favorite. The ultra-luxurious adults-only Hotel Mousai debuted recently with a disappearing-edge rooftop pool and an all-inclusive package touting eight different dining options. The Garza Blanca Preserve Resort & Spa features birdwatching and hiking tours spread over 85 acres, and a bevy of multi-bedroom suites that sleep up to eight guests. Trendy restaurants have popped up as well, including La Leche, which sports an all-white interior and is popular for its namesake roasted duck. For a fun and filling outing, try the walking Taco Tour, which hits eight different culinary establishments downtown in a battle of who-makes-it-best. An old standard, the Iguana Restaurant & Tequila Bar set inside Elizabeth Taylor’s former home-turned-hotel, is still out-of-this-world delicious. Plus, this spot offers the most impressive mariachi band you will ever experience live. —Jon Bailey
Want a more private slice of paradise? Find it one hour north of Puerto Vallarta proper.
While Puerto Vallarta is packed with all-inclusive resorts and has a bustling main strip, Punta Mita on the Riviera Nayarit is the exact opposite. The 1,500-acre point and several of the white-sand beaches on its scalloped edges are privately owned (some big-name investors include Bill Gates), and the region has become a haven for tech executives. If you want privacy and days that sway as slowly as palm fronds in the breeze, this is your place in the sun.
Punta Mita
The Four Seasons Resort Punta Mita and The St. Regis Punta Mita are the main places to hang your (beach) hat, and both are right on Banderas Bay. Every room at the St. Regis comes with butler service and the resort is known for its golf courses, whereas the Four Seasons has a younger vibe with fun bars and trendy restaurants, like Dos Catrinas. The new two-story restaurant overlooks the Pacific and has mezcal tastings and shareable plates like soft-shell crab tacos. Seafood lovers, take note: Every day at 11 a.m., a small boat docks at the beach fronting the resort, where chefs come to purchase the catch of the day.
Fill your days by the infinity pool and watch the resident green iguanas snack on bits of pineapple, take a bike ride through garden trails, or just hang out in a comfy beach cabana. If you prefer to stay active, the Apuane Spa has fitness classes, like a yoga session where the instructor plays the flute during savasana, and an intense suspension training developed by a Navy SEAL. — Marie Tutko
This destination isn’t just for spring breakers anymore. The rocky coastlines and cactus-filled hillsides in “the capes” are morphing into a new Monte Carlo, with hotels that scream luxury, roads traversed by fleets of Escalades, and an airport packed with private jets. But you can still have a low-key stay in either Cabo San Lucas or San Jose del Cabo and experience local culture.
Guide to Mexico — Los Cabos
The hotels at the southern tip of Baja really are the star—most visitors pick a resort, unplug, and don’t leave the grounds for a few days. Last year alone, 10 new luxury properties were built in both capes, and seven more are debuting soon, including the Park Hyatt, Caesars Palace, and St. Regis.
Perched on a quiet beach in Cabo San Lucas, the Nobu Hotel has a Malibu Farm restaurant, its rooms have onsen (Japanese soaking tubs), and it attracts celebrities during the annual Los Cabos Film Festival. Garza Blanca has an all-inclusive plan for food and drinks, eight pools, and six restaurants. The rebranded Waldorf Astoria Los Cabos Pedregal is close to the marina and downtown San Lucas.
About 19 miles east in San Jose del Cabo, the grand dame of luxury properties is One&Only Palmilla. Celebrities have been staying here since the ’50s for its private access to Pelican Beach, and today it’s known for obliging service (all guests have access to a butler) and tastings of its exclusive tequila line from Clase Azul.
Viceroy Los Cabos is one of the most visually stunning properties here: Its rooms are surrounded by water and connected by elevated pathways. Montage Los Cabos is right on the best beach in the region, Santa Maria Bay, which has calm waters since it’s protected by cliffs. Book a kayak or stand-up paddleboard excursion on the bay at sunrise, then sip a margarita at the pool’s swim-up bar.
If you’re a foodie who loves high-end restaurants and celebrity chefs, then this is your town. One&Only’s sushi restaurant, Seared, has Jean-Georges Vongerichten’s name attached to it, and he visits the property a few times a year for special dinners. Montage started a new quarterly culinary series where acclaimed chefs come and cook for guests on the hotel’s sprawling lawn—the most recent included Michelin-starred Jon Yao from Kato in LA. Manta restaurant at The Cape hotel is helmed by chef Enrique Olvera. One of the most sought after tables in the region is Flora Farms, an organic restaurant set on a working farm that’s been here for two decades—reservations book up months in advance. For something edgy, La Revolucion in downtown San Jose del Cabo is a modern eatery that turns into a nightclub after dark. They smoke all their meats in-house—get the tacos kastakan, a cross between chicharrones and carnitas—and if you’re brave, head to the bar and order a shot of sotol (a cousin of mezcal) that’s been preserving a dead rattlesnake in a jar on the counter.
Guide to Mexico — Los Cabos Beach
Carve out time in the afternoon to see the famous limestone arch, or El Arco, at Land’s End, where the Sea of Cortez meets the Pacific Ocean. To get to the rock formation at the end of the peninsula, rent a water taxi from the Cabo San Lucas Marina, or book a tour through your hotel, then stop at Lovers Beach for swimming and lounging on the sand. You can book a whale-watching tour during the winter months, when humpback and gray whales migrate here.
Take a day to explore outside the tourist zones and wander around downtown San Jose del Cabo. Start at Plaza Mijares, the lively town square anchored by San Jose del Cabo Church, first built in the early 1700s. Then head to Calle Alvaro Obregon, a cobblestone artery lined with galleries. Step into Cabokero, and watch as Ricardo Quero elaborately paints cow skulls with a syringe. November through June, there’s an art walk in the neighborhood every Thursday night. —Marie Tutko
Jacques Cousteau called it one of his favorite places on the planet, and there’s no reason to argue.
Back in the day, this quaint fishing village was home to a few intrepid fishermen, and one or two tiny hotels. Fortunately, today it’s not terribly different—except for the modern conveniences, several luxury resorts, and a bevy of golf courses that rival the best in the world.
Guide to Mexico — Loreto
If sunny plazas, church bells, and leisurely strolls through cobbled streets is your vibe, book a room at Posada de Las Flores Hotel & Spa downtown. The rosy pink hacienda-style hotel is small and stylish, with a rooftop pool and Colonial furnishings that make it feel like someone’s stately home. Tumble out of bed for strong coffee laced with cinnamon and take in the views of Loreto’s main city plaza and nearby mission. The very first founded by Saint Junípero Serra during his voyage up the California coast, the Misión de Nuestra Señora de Loreto has been standing guard over the town since 1697.
For a more country-club setting, try the suites at Villa del Palmar Resort 30 minutes south of downtown. Five pools, three restaurants, a spa and enormous rooms serve up postcard-perfect views from every angle. Villa del Palmar boasts the No. 1 golf course in Mexico, TPC Danzante Bay, designed by Rees Jones. The 17th hole is particularly notable—par 3 and 170 yards, but the green sits on top of a rocky plateau that plunges hundreds of feet into the surf below.
Fresh seafood is the primary focus of every menu in Loreto. Try Los Olivos at La Mision Hotel, where simply prepared and perfectly seasoned fillets come straight from the fishing boats in the marina. Another local specialty is the famous paletas (Mexican ice pops) from La Michoacana near Loreto town plaza. Try several unusual combinations like mango chile lime, guava, and cucumber.
Guide to Mexico — Loreto Kayak
Visitors come to Loreto Bay to enjoy its front-door location on the Sea of Cortez. Board a charter boat easily at the marina, where scuba, snorkel, and fishing enthusiasts will go crazy for the clear, warm waters. It’s one of the richest underwater environments in the world, teeming with some 900 varieties of fish and more than 2,000 marine invertebrates. A UNESCO World Heritage Site, the Sea of Cortez is also home to more species of whales and dolphins than anywhere else on the planet. Wild Loreto Tours takes visitors on boats to spots up and down the coast and to nearby islands daily. —Jon Bailey
The capital of Baja California Sur is a prime destination for unique ocean experiences
La Paz means “peace,” and this serene coastal city provides just that, thanks to its small, navigable size and blue panoramas. But you won’t have the luxury of lazing about, because there are so many bucket-list activities to check off. Situated on the Sea of Cortez, La Paz draws divers from all over the world, as it’s one of the few places where you can swim alongside California sea lions (about an hour’s boat ride away to Isla Espíritu Santo) and majestic, friendly whale sharks (just 15 minutes from shore). Both encounters are quite heady, but the whale sharks will stay with you for life. You can take them through companies like Cortez Club. Depending on the time of year, divers can also see Mobula rays (June to August), hammerheads (September to November), and hundreds of other species. Another must-visit is the pristine beaches of Balandra Bay and, if there’s time for a side trip, driving one hour across the Baja peninsula to explore its little Pueblo Mágico, Todos Santos.
The popular hotel beyond the main strip in La Paz remains the CostaBaja Resort & Spa, but foodies may want to stay right in town at one of the many affordable vacation rental homes. The central zone has a slate of great options for every meal—don’t miss the romantic Sorstis Restaurante, the super-fresh Nim, and, for mezcal tasting, La Miserable.
A trip in the winter means you’ll need a wetsuit, but you will score access to both whale sharks (October to April) and the highly sociable sea lions, which you can pet (September to June). If you fly out of San Diego or even LAX, you’ll make as many as two or three stops over 18 or more hours to get there. But if you fly from Tijuana, you’ll be there in less than two hours. —Erin Meanley Glenny
Scuba divers, snorkelers, fishermen, foodies, and families
The gourmet hot dog is all the rage, with toppings that go way beyond ketchup and mustard, like bacon, cheese, pico de gallo, and mayo or guac.
Long adored by surfers, fish taco lovers, and cruise ship passengers, this beach town is just within reach of San Diego (and a quicker drive than going north to LA).
Guide to Mexico – Ensenada City
This bustling port is a seafood haven and charming cultural hub. Start at the walkable Mercado Negro—an open-air bazaar of fresh-from-the-boat fish and crustaceans—then head out to sample the catch. People still line up at the seafood cart La Guerrerense for ceviche tostadas, but it’s worth sitting down at the same owner’s Sabina Restaurante for grilled octopus or shrimp tacos. Old school Punta Morro still delivers whitewater views, upscale eats, and damn good bloody marys at Sunday brunch, while the tree-shaded patio of Boules remains a locals’ favorite for leisurely lunches of mushroom risotto or yellowtail sashimi. At the award-winning Wendlandt Cervecería, order up their Super Harry Polanco, an imperial red ale and gold medalist, or head to microbrewery Agua Mala for Mako Pale Ale and teriyaki oysters. For cheap and cheerful street fare, try the tortas al pastor at Trailero, fish tacos at Don Zefe, and shrimp at Tacos Mi Ranchito el Fenix.
Guide to Mexico – Ensenada Beach
After eating all that seafood you may be inspired to catch your own on an adventure with Sergio’s Sportfishing. Or explore the city’s storied past at the Riviera de Ensenada, the glamorous hotel and casino turned cultural center, then sip a margarita at Bar Andaluz, a 1930s jazz haunt and one of the claimed birthplaces of the margarita. For an art fix, check out CEART, home to rotating exhibits, dance workshops, cinema, music, and more. —Ann Wycoff
You can be on this shoreline in just 45 minutes by car.
An easy day trip from San Diego, this friendly beach town is just 10 miles south of the border. Bring your board and surf off the pier or go diving near the sunken patrol boat Uribe 121. Rent Jet Skis or paddleboards at Rosarito Ocean Sports, or if you prefer terra firma adventures, they’ll saddle up camels or horses for beach rides.
Once the stomping ground of Old Hollywood, the historic Rosarito Beach Hotel calls for a frothy margarita at its bar, but if you’re spending the night, cliffside Las Rocas has a lovely infinity pool, a decent spa, and memorable chilaquiles for breakfast. Authentic Neapolitan thin-crust pizza can be found at Ollie’s, a quaint Italian eatery with a fully exposed brick oven kitchen. Ready for dessert? The same owners just opened Brown Dog Gelato next door. For freshly made tortillas, juicy steaks, and local wines, grab a table at El Nido. Tequila connoisseurs should pop into the Mercado del Mar, a spot that’s home to more than 500 unique bottles and a noteworthy butchery. If you’re in the mood to gallery hop, standouts include Ugi Gallery and Kota Art Gallery, and La Iguana for handcrafted ironworks by artisan Edgar Orozco. —Ann Wycoff
Word’s out on Valle de Guadalupe. Everyone’s singing its praises, from the New York Times to chefs like Rick Bayless. But what’s most exciting about this epicurean scene is that it keeps evolving. Here are the latest things to love about Baja’s wine country.
Casa Misiones
Michelin-starred chef Drew Deckman has long led the culinary charge here, with his namesake restaurant and bustling outdoor kitchen, but now he’s added sushi into the mix. Master sushi chef Toshi Tsutada (ex–Sushi Ota) has joined the team to collaborate on Baja Omakase at Deckman’s en El Mogor, offering guests a chance to enjoy local sustainable seafood in the company of grapevines. A lovely terrace hosts a dozen seats at this alfresco sushi bar, where guests are wowed by a 12-course, prix-fixe omakase menu.
While Cuatro Cuatros and its safari-style tents win props for being the area’s original glampground, the trend is now popping up across the valley. You can sleep under the stars in one of ten bubble tents set up next to vineyards at eco-friendly Campera, or hunker down in an Airstream at Valley Nomads. Four luxury tents with lounge decks and cabanas await in a boulder-dotted landscape at Casa Misiones. Maglén Resort has striking modern glamping cubes with outdoor hammocks and fire pits. At pet- and baby-friendly Lumi, choose between cozy cabins with rooftop decks or six simple tents with queen-size beds. It’s owned by a Mexican and Finnish couple, so naturally they have a fabulous sauna.
Casa Misiones
The hottest lounge setting at sunset can be found at Bar Bura, but this lofty mountaintop perch just outside the Valle gets booked up quickly, so Cuatro Cuatros cleverly created a new cocktail scene down below at Bar Noa. The bars are built inside beached wooden fishing boats, so you can sip a margarita, sangria, or mojito on the deck, overlooking the property’s circular vineyards.
At Lunario, a new greenhouse-style gem at La Lomita Winery, chef Sheyla Alvarado presents a farm-fresh six-to-eight-course tasting menu. You’ll find a rustic vibe, warm service, and made-from-scratch cuisine by chef Alfredo Villanueva at Villa Torel, set hillside on the Bodegas Santo Tomás outpost in the valley. At Brote, rising talent chef Miriam Moreno has built a menu honoring the wines of legendary vintner Victor Torres Alegre of Vinícola Torres Alegre y Familia. Tucked behind the pyramids of Clos de Tres Cantos, Ariete offers a romantic alfresco setting and artistic plates. Lantern lit and set beneath a massive tree canopy, Primitivo may be off the beaten path, but it’s worth the search to experience Chef Carolina’s wood-fired seafood, grilled meats, and fresh greens.
The wine scene continues to evolve. At Bruma, savvy winemaker Lulú Martínez Ojeda is expanding the vineyards and planting certified vines from France (see the restaurant review on page 40). Paolo Paoloni, winemaker and owner of Villa Montefiori, is building a new restaurant on-site, while Monte Xanic welcomes new winemaker José Antonio Calderón from Napa. Vena Cava’s Phil Gregory is adding natural wines including ambers and pét-nats (sparkling wines) to his repertoire. Bodegas Magoni just released a new line of reserve wines—be sure to try their tempranillo. —Ann Wycoff
Little itineraries for where to stay, eat, drink, relax, and otherwise act like a local in the city just across the border
Guide to Mexico — Tijuana
This historic hotel first opened its doors in 1930 and is best known for its restaurant’s invention of the Caesar salad, which it prepares tableside today (rooms from $48). It’s located on the famous Avenida Revolución, which in the last several years has been made over with new breweries, chic rooftop bars, and a new rapid public bus line that takes you across the city. Avenida Revolución 1079, Zona Centro
It’s a café, juice bar, and deli all rolled into one, using farm-to-table ingredients for classic Mexican dishes such as chilaquiles, with vegan options. Don’t pass up one of the refreshing cold-pressed juices, each aptly named for their purpose (Peace, Energy, Skin Tonic). The rustic decor drives home its feel of your local mom-and-pop shop. Avenida Brasil 8930, Colonia Madero (Cacho)
El Punto is the gastro park that rarely gets mentioned in Tijuana, overshadowed by Telefónica. It stays true to the foodies with no fluff: just 11 different food trucks serving up everything from sopes and flautas to barbecue, Italian, and Chinese food. Paseo del Río 6642, Rio Tijuana 3ra Etapa
This bohemian restaurant has live music and outdoor seating, and is known for its selection of wines and Italian food. It gets busy at night, so make a reservation at 011-52-664-608-1656 if calling from the US. Prolongación Paseo de los Heroes 13990, Alfonso Corona del Rosal
This modern, pet-friendly hotel averages about $55 per night and is within walking distance of some of the most prominent breweries and taprooms in Tijuana. Bulevar General Rodolfo Sánchez Taboada 9170, Zona Río
This brewery was one of the first to produce craft beer in Tijuana, in 2000. Take a tour of their operations and taste over 12 beers, from pilsners to IPAs. Bulevar Fundadores 2951, Juárez
This indoor-outdoor space is half taproom and half tapas eatery, with a menu that includes craft beers from around Mexico and food specials, such as sliders and tortas ahogadas, that’ll cost you 21 pesos, just a little over $1. Avenida Colima 2293, Colonia Madero (Cacho)
This town square in Zona Río is a maze of over 15 breweries, taprooms, gastropubs, and eateries. You’ll find your taste of cervezas artesanales with well-known Tijuana craft beer companies such as Border Psycho, Cervecería Insurgente, and Mamut Brewing Co. Erasmo Castellanos Quinto 9440, Zona Río
These iconic twin towers are on one of the city’s central boulevards, Agua Caliente (rooms from $85). Staying here also gives you access to Tijuana’s country club, next door, with golf, tennis, and an Olympic-size swimming pool, making the hotel ideal for any sports fan. Bulevar Agua Caliente 4558, Aviación
The Tijuana Country Club first opened in 1927 and was the home of PGA tournaments from the 1930s through the 1950s. Over the years, the 18-hole golf course has grown into a complex with tennis courts, an aquatic center, and a spa. Bulevar Agua Caliente 11311, Aviación
This area of Tijuana, just walking distance from the Grand Hotel and Club Campestre, is home to the Agua Caliente Racetrack for greyhound racing (occurs daily) and the recently renovated Estadio Caliente, where Tijuana’s professional soccer team Club Xolos plays (January–May). Fans can tour the facilities and keep placing their bets even on days when there are no events planned—by gambling at the casino on site. Bulevar Agua Caliente 12027, Hipódromo
Tijuana is home to AAA Lucha Libre and The Clash Lucha Libre, a couple of the top wrestling circuits in the world. Unlike the WWE, these matches are best two out of three. Watch the masked characters in their high-flying, action-packed dramas on the first and last Fridays and Saturdays of the month.
This hotel is geared toward business travelers, but the artwork of Frida Kahlo and other Mexican artists makes it the perfect place to stay for any art aficionado. Rooms average $40 per night (including a breakfast buffet), and an Uber or taxi ride between here and the border or the Tijuana Cultural Center is just $2. Bulevar General Rodolfo Sánchez Taboada Norte Exterior 13, Zona Río
Inaugurated in 1982, the Centro Cultural Tijuana (CECUT, pronounced “say-KOOT”) is the city’s art and culture headquarters. It hosts various exhibitions throughout the year, plus concerts, conferences, movies, documentaries, workshops, and a 360-degree Imax theater similar to the Fleet Science Center in Balboa Park. Paseo de los Héroes 9350, Zona Río
Better known as “La Mona,” this 55-foot concrete nude statue, which doubles as a home extension, was built in honor of the city’s centennial in 1989. It was sculpted by self-taught architect Armando Muñoz Garcia and originally colored white with a blue ribbon wrapped around her forearm to signify the scarcity of water. She received a colorful makeover by 11 artists from all over the word in 2015 and today stands accessible from a public street near the Tijuana airport. Calle Ensenada 17, Colonia Aeropuerto
This independent theater stages intimate productions, mainly by its resident company, Tijuana Hace Teatro. With a seating capacity of just 35, it offers a unique theater experience that often makes the audience part of the show. Unión 2191, Zonaeste
This hotel, an extension of the NewCity Medical Plaza (a medical tourism complex), offers signature spa treatments, saunas, a fitness center, pool, yoga sessions, calming nature spaces, and guest rooms with terraces and suites. Paseo del Centenario 4210, Zona Río
This place offers seven types of massage packages. Prices start at $25 for 30 minutes and go up to two hours for $70. Bulevar Salinas 10755, Colonia Aviación
Facials, waxing, and tanning services start at 500 pesos, or approximately $27. Susol is known for having the only licensed and certified tanning beds and spray tans in Tijuana. Plaza Sonora 3805, Chapultepec
If you’re looking for an inexpensive place to get a manicure or pedicure with the same options and customer service you’d expect in San Diego, this high-end salon’s two locations come recommended. They give you complimentary fruit tea, and you can make reservations through their Facebook page. Bulevar Agua Caliente 8470 and Avenida Negrete 8470, Zona Centro
The post The Guide to Mexico appeared first on San Diego Magazine.
]]>The post FIRST LOOK: Bracero appeared first on San Diego Magazine.
]]>Plascencia is the real deal. He grew up on both sides of the border. His family, under Grupo Plascencia, has been a leader in Tijuana’s culinary scene for decades. Plascencia made his own name with his Chula Vista restaurant, Romesco, then opened his temple to modern Mexican cooking, Mision 19, in Tijuana, followed by the rustic Finca Altozano in Baja’s wine region, Valle de Guadalupe.
For all his repute—including features in the New York Times and The New Yorker hailing him as the chosen son of Baja cuisine—San Diegans have had to drive near the border to try his food. And now they don’t.
Bracero is a 4,800, two-level showpiece on Kettner Blvd. in Little Italy. Little Italy is the undisputed heart of San Diego’s culinary scene right now, and for the foreseeable future.
San Diego’s long had a fitful relationship with gourmet Mexican food. Blame $3 defrosted rolled taco culture. But over the last few years, some of Baja’s most accomplished chefs have brought their riffs on seafood, chiles, charcoal and spice across to San Diego. The hottest thing in San Diego’s food culture right now is Mexico.
So the timing couldn’t be more perfect for Bracero. Expect small plates, large plates. Dishes inspired by Plascencia’s other restaurants. Dishes inspired by San Diego and Baja. They’ll be making their own masa in house—a key for a truly housemade Mexican experience. A crudo bar will serve shellfish from Carlsbad and wild seafood from Baja. The tequila program will be massive. Wines will come from California and Valle de Guadalupe. Craft cocktails will have a Mexican kick, and craft beers will be from both sides of the border.
There will be tiraditos, ceviches, sashimi, roasted meats, the smell of corn, peppers and sopes and high-end French saucing techniques. It will be a mishmash of border and culinary cultures.
San Diego has never been more ready to see what real, top-end Mexican cooking is all about.
But enough of that. Please enjoy our first look inside Bracero Cocina de Raiz, with design done by talented locals, Bells & Whistles.
Bracero opens today.
Bracero Cocina de Raiz, 1490 Kettner Blvd, Little Italy, 619.756.7864.
FIRST LOOK: Bracero
The post FIRST LOOK: Bracero appeared first on San Diego Magazine.
]]>The post Faces of Baja: Drew Deckman appeared first on San Diego Magazine.
]]>“I don’t want restaurants with wine-colored walls,” says Natalia Badán, who took over the Mogor-Badán winery, farm and market after the deaths of her brother and his son.
Of course, worrying about the “right kind of growth” is a luxury afforded by the Valle’s financially stable residents. Non-wealthy locals are not as concerned with whether or not new businesses do soul-inventory before setting up shop. They simply need money for their families.
Like any tourist area, small resentments stem from external ideas. A chain business like McDonalds would mar the Valle landscape by using Mexican land to express uniquely American values. With every external voice that goes into the Valle—whether American, Mexican, Chinese or otherwise—the distinct Baja voice gets harder to hear.
Also tough on the locals are unenlightened tourists who expect servitude for their vacation dollars. To a lesser degree, San Diegans can relate to that quiet, inner resentment when wealthy Arizonans come to summer. We moan about “Zonies,” but our local economy also needs their money.
As you wander through The Valle, you can see small examples of the “right” and “wrong” kind of growth. One local points out a billboard for L.A. Cetto as the “wrong” kind. It shows a very well-dressed woman whispering what appears to be a tantalizing offer into a well-dressed man’s ear. The message is fairly clear: Affluent people do luxury romancing at our establishment.
I suppose what’s wrong with this is its anywhere-ness. That woman in bright lipstick and jewels and expensive dress whispering into the dapper man’s ear… could be in Vegas, San Diego, or New York. It’s a very non-distinct, well-worn template of luxury that purports to represent “the Valle de Guadalupe experience” on a massive billboard lording over the main road. It’s that sort of faceless expression/branding that could really undermine the Valle’s distinct, grapes-on-the-moon appeal.
For our story, we drove through the Valle in old cars made of old metal. The “restaurant row” of sorts that’s home to two iconic restaurants—Laja and Finca Altozano—is a dirt road. It shook our old car to its old bones. Some gravel might be nice, and maybe some better signage. But, then what? Where do “improvements” begin to dilute the rustic magic of the Valle? The feeling that you’ve gotten lost and discovered a wine oasis? How do you make improvements that won’t turn the Valle into Temecula or Napa South—a cookie-cutter place with lawn parties and Kenny G concerts that has a lot of money but little Baja soul?
One of the most extreme versions of the “right” kind of growth I found at Deckman’s en El Mogor, the “restaurant” on Mogor Badán. Deckman’s isn’t a restaurant as much as it is an elaborate picnic orchestrated by Michelin-starred chef, Drew Deckman. The “restaurant” consists of wooden tables under some pine trees. Bulb lights are strung through the branches. The ceiling is the sky, and fallen pine needles the carpet. Deckman’s kitchen is a few needles over to the side, made completely of recycled things. He found two old doors from a science class at a San Diego university—which he now uses as kitchen workstations. His massive cutting board is made of floorboards from an old gymnasium. Deckman cooks entirely with firewood (no gas) in traditional Baja style.
I thought it interesting and wholly unsurprising that the area’s main non-Mexican chef had taken every precaution not to be too flashy or disruptive. Though he’s been a resident of Mexico for nine years, Deckman is very cautious not to be mistaken for a disruptive interloper.
Deckman’s food is phenomenal, some of the best I’ve tasted on either side of the border. No surprise coming from a man who trained under legendary French chefs Paul Bocuse and Jacques Maximin. Deckman opened his first Mexican restaurant, Deckman’s San Jose, in Los Cabos in 2010. A year later, he came to The Valle.
Why did you come to The Valle?
I started working here as a culinary consultant for Hugo D’Acosta. It’s tough for a gringo to walk into The Valle and say, ‘Hey! I’m here!’ But when one of the innovators introduces you and says, ‘Hey, this is our chef,’ the doors open a little longer, or softer.
And why did you decide to open your own place?
I’m not a new-agey person, but when I came over the ridge and saw The Valle, I knew I’d been here before. So I talked to Natalia and she said, ‘Why don’t you put something beneath my pine trees?’ The plan was to have a two-month sabbatical. This would be our lab. It was never looked at as a business. Just a sort of creative way to pay our bills while we’re here on vacation. I started with 30 seats. I’ve got 85 now. And now all of a sudden we’re full and need more seats. Last year was our second year and we did almost six months instead of two.
Why did you design the space so minimally?
I was coming into a ranch that had so much tradition. 2012 was the twenty-fifth vintage of Mogor wine. There weren’t a lot of small, artisanal wines when they started. Antonio Badán, rest in peace, was one of the innovators who made it possible. It was so important to me to integrate in a way that when you walked into the restaurant, it felt like it had always been there. There are two tables that are old doors from a chemistry lab at the University of San Diego. The cutting boards are recycled gym floor. It smells like teen spirit.
This year you closed Deckman’s San Jose and will operate your Valle restaurant year-round. Why?
Hugo had said something to me when we were in New York. He said, ‘I think your restaurant is great, but if you want to help The Valle, you need to be in The Valle. You’re here for the summer and then you leave when we need you.’
The plans?
We’re going to build a U-shaped structure made out of hay bales, chicken wire, adobe, and a tin roof. We want something that looks cool, but isn’t permanent. We can break it all apart, save the wire, use the hay for the animals. The challenge is: How do you create different restaurants in the same space? I’m going to reduce it to 30 seats, make it a little fancier, which is my upbringing in the kitchen. But that doesn’t mean we’re going to be expensive or pretentious. Just a little more polished.
Kitchen philosophy?
I’m not a chef. Chefs are the guys who worked for in Europe. Those guys with three Michelin stars for 30 years. My job is to find the best ingredient sand not fuck it up between finding it and you eating it. We use pink peppercorns from the property in the mignonette for the oysters. We only use salt from San Felipe and olives from the ranch. We brew a beer with Agua Mala using honey here on the ranch and grain from Mexicali. There are guys growing hops now here in the Valle.
What’s the restaurant environment like in The Valle right now?
There are so many new restaurants this year. A lot of them spend as much money on advertising as we make in a year. When Javier and I opened, we counted 23 restaurants—not counting taco carts. Now there are over 80. But there’s no other infrastructure. No more hotel rooms. Just a lot more tables and chairs. There’s just not that many people yet to support it all. Eventually the Valle can carry 80 restaurants. But not now. Very few of them have business licenses. There’s no control over who and what goes where. Very few people are paying taxes. We are. It’s all part of being a good neighbor.
So it’s unsustainable?
The wave is big and everybody’s surfing it right now. I think it’s great. The press The Valle is getting is the way it should be. Everyone shows up with big eyes and then walks away thinking, ‘Man, maybe I shouldn’t have sold my house in San Diego.’ We need more homes. Restaurants can’t survive on transient traffic. We can’t go 12 months a year just having a good Saturday every week. There’s just not enough people living here.
Lettie Teague recently wrote an article in the Wall Street Journal that was critical of some Valle de Guadalupe wines. What was the local reaction?
That article was very controversial. She said some stuff that was not in any way, shape or form off the mark. But people here are not accustomed to anything critical. Most of the articles written about The Valle feel like paid advertising. I don’t know why there’s that sensationalism with The Valle. It’s a really special place.
What’s your take on the local wines?
Our list is exclusively Valle wines. So of course I think they’re good. I’m not saying every single one of them is the best wine in the world. They are the best wines produced here, by my friends.
Drew Deckman at his “restaurant” in Valle de Guadalupe, Baja.
by Jaime Fritsch
The post Faces of Baja: Drew Deckman appeared first on San Diego Magazine.
]]>The post Faces of Baja: Drew Deckman appeared first on San Diego Magazine.
]]>“I don’t want restaurants with wine-colored walls,” says Natalia Badán, who took over the Mogor-Badán winery, farm and market after the deaths of her brother and his son.
Of course, worrying about the “right kind of growth” is a luxury afforded by the Valle’s financially stable residents. Non-wealthy locals are not as concerned with whether or not new businesses do soul-inventory before setting up shop. They simply need money for their families.
Like any tourist area, small resentments stem from external ideas. A chain business like McDonalds would mar the Valle landscape by using Mexican land to express uniquely American values. With every external voice that goes into the Valle—whether American, Mexican, Chinese or otherwise—the distinct Baja voice gets harder to hear.
Also tough on the locals are unenlightened tourists who expect servitude for their vacation dollars. To a lesser degree, San Diegans can relate to that quiet, inner resentment when wealthy Arizonans come to summer. We moan about “Zonies,” but our local economy also needs their money.
As you wander through The Valle, you can see small examples of the “right” and “wrong” kind of growth. One local points out a billboard for L.A. Cetto as the “wrong” kind. It shows a very well-dressed woman whispering what appears to be a tantalizing offer into a well-dressed man’s ear. The message is fairly clear: Affluent people do luxury romancing at our establishment.
I suppose what’s wrong with this is its anywhere-ness. That woman in bright lipstick and jewels and expensive dress whispering into the dapper man’s ear… could be in Vegas, San Diego, or New York. It’s a very non-distinct, well-worn template of luxury that purports to represent “the Valle de Guadalupe experience” on a massive billboard lording over the main road. It’s that sort of faceless expression/branding that could really undermine the Valle’s distinct, grapes-on-the-moon appeal.
For our story, we drove through the Valle in old cars made of old metal. The “restaurant row” of sorts that’s home to two iconic restaurants—Laja and Finca Altozano—is a dirt road. It shook our old car to its old bones. Some gravel might be nice, and maybe some better signage. But, then what? Where do “improvements” begin to dilute the rustic magic of the Valle? The feeling that you’ve gotten lost and discovered a wine oasis? How do you make improvements that won’t turn the Valle into Temecula or Napa South—a cookie-cutter place with lawn parties and Kenny G concerts that has a lot of money but little Baja soul?
One of the most extreme versions of the “right” kind of growth I found at Deckman’s en El Mogor, the “restaurant” on Mogor Badán. Deckman’s isn’t a restaurant as much as it is an elaborate picnic orchestrated by Michelin-starred chef, Drew Deckman. The “restaurant” consists of wooden tables under some pine trees. Bulb lights are strung through the branches. The ceiling is the sky, and fallen pine needles the carpet. Deckman’s kitchen is a few needles over to the side, made completely of recycled things. He found two old doors from a science class at a San Diego university—which he now uses as kitchen workstations. His massive cutting board is made of floorboards from an old gymnasium. Deckman cooks entirely with firewood (no gas) in traditional Baja style.
I thought it interesting and wholly unsurprising that the area’s main non-Mexican chef had taken every precaution not to be too flashy or disruptive. Though he’s been a resident of Mexico for nine years, Deckman is very cautious not to be mistaken for a disruptive interloper.
Deckman’s food is phenomenal, some of the best I’ve tasted on either side of the border. No surprise coming from a man who trained under legendary French chefs Paul Bocuse and Jacques Maximin. Deckman opened his first Mexican restaurant, Deckman’s San Jose, in Los Cabos in 2010. A year later, he came to The Valle.
Why did you come to The Valle?
I started working here as a culinary consultant for Hugo D’Acosta. It’s tough for a gringo to walk into The Valle and say, ‘Hey! I’m here!’ But when one of the innovators introduces you and says, ‘Hey, this is our chef,’ the doors open a little longer, or softer.
And why did you decide to open your own place?
I’m not a new-agey person, but when I came over the ridge and saw The Valle, I knew I’d been here before. So I talked to Natalia and she said, ‘Why don’t you put something beneath my pine trees?’ The plan was to have a two-month sabbatical. This would be our lab. It was never looked at as a business. Just a sort of creative way to pay our bills while we’re here on vacation. I started with 30 seats. I’ve got 85 now. And now all of a sudden we’re full and need more seats. Last year was our second year and we did almost six months instead of two.
Why did you design the space so minimally?
I was coming into a ranch that had so much tradition. 2012 was the twenty-fifth vintage of Mogor wine. There weren’t a lot of small, artisanal wines when they started. Antonio Badán, rest in peace, was one of the innovators who made it possible. It was so important to me to integrate in a way that when you walked into the restaurant, it felt like it had always been there. There are two tables that are old doors from a chemistry lab at the University of San Diego. The cutting boards are recycled gym floor. It smells like teen spirit.
This year you closed Deckman’s San Jose and will operate your Valle restaurant year-round. Why?
Hugo had said something to me when we were in New York. He said, ‘I think your restaurant is great, but if you want to help The Valle, you need to be in The Valle. You’re here for the summer and then you leave when we need you.’
The plans?
We’re going to build a U-shaped structure made out of hay bales, chicken wire, adobe, and a tin roof. We want something that looks cool, but isn’t permanent. We can break it all apart, save the wire, use the hay for the animals. The challenge is: How do you create different restaurants in the same space? I’m going to reduce it to 30 seats, make it a little fancier, which is my upbringing in the kitchen. But that doesn’t mean we’re going to be expensive or pretentious. Just a little more polished.
Kitchen philosophy?
I’m not a chef. Chefs are the guys who worked for in Europe. Those guys with three Michelin stars for 30 years. My job is to find the best ingredient sand not fuck it up between finding it and you eating it. We use pink peppercorns from the property in the mignonette for the oysters. We only use salt from San Felipe and olives from the ranch. We brew a beer with Agua Mala using honey here on the ranch and grain from Mexicali. There are guys growing hops now here in the Valle.
What’s the restaurant environment like in The Valle right now?
There are so many new restaurants this year. A lot of them spend as much money on advertising as we make in a year. When Javier and I opened, we counted 23 restaurants—not counting taco carts. Now there are over 80. But there’s no other infrastructure. No more hotel rooms. Just a lot more tables and chairs. There’s just not that many people yet to support it all. Eventually the Valle can carry 80 restaurants. But not now. Very few of them have business licenses. There’s no control over who and what goes where. Very few people are paying taxes. We are. It’s all part of being a good neighbor.
So it’s unsustainable?
The wave is big and everybody’s surfing it right now. I think it’s great. The press The Valle is getting is the way it should be. Everyone shows up with big eyes and then walks away thinking, ‘Man, maybe I shouldn’t have sold my house in San Diego.’ We need more homes. Restaurants can’t survive on transient traffic. We can’t go 12 months a year just having a good Saturday every week. There’s just not enough people living here.
Lettie Teague recently wrote an article in the Wall Street Journal that was critical of some Valle de Guadalupe wines. What was the local reaction?
That article was very controversial. She said some stuff that was not in any way, shape or form off the mark. But people here are not accustomed to anything critical. Most of the articles written about The Valle feel like paid advertising. I don’t know why there’s that sensationalism with The Valle. It’s a really special place.
What’s your take on the local wines?
Our list is exclusively Valle wines. So of course I think they’re good. I’m not saying every single one of them is the best wine in the world. They are the best wines produced here, by my friends.
Drew Deckman at his “restaurant” in Valle de Guadalupe, Baja.
by Jaime Fritsch
The post Faces of Baja: Drew Deckman appeared first on San Diego Magazine.
]]>The post Behind the Baja Story appeared first on San Diego Magazine.
]]>Maybe that’s not such a bad thing.
The cover story of this month’s San Diego Magazine is my account of going back to Baja for the first time since all the blood. I had written off Tijuana. I knew the violent years were over. I’d seen the crime statistics (you have a greater chance of getting murdered in Chicago). I just had a fear echo.
As a kid growing up in San Diego, there was no shortage of slander about Mexico. The country was like that reclusive man in your neighborhood with the limp and the dead lawn who was known to bury children in his backyard. Adults told us bad men lurked on the other side of the border fence, waiting for white people with nice shoes. They pointed guns at you until you jumped in their sack. Then they called your family and asked for money. You might make it home. All of your fingers would not.
I started sneaking down there in 1987 when I was 14. At 4’11″ and still pre-pubescent, I had all the manliness of a Christmas elf. But I was able to get a fake ID at a small store in Downtown San Diego whose relationship with the Better Business Bureau was probably complicated. I drank buckets of Coronas at Peanuts & Beer, dancing to Salt N Pepa under black lights next to 18 year-old SDSU freshmen and menopausal hookers. I showed Tijuana far too little respect, partially because it didn’t seem interested in much.
I never got drugged or kidnapped. I did get shaken-down by two police officers. Paid one off with $6. The other got $50 after he took issue with the Swiss Army Knife in my pocket and told me I was going to jail forever and ever.
But I also saw another side of Baja. We’d drive 160 kilometers south of Ensenada and turn down nameless dirt roads until we hit water. We parked our trucks on the sand, camping and surfing for days. Just us, a wet horizon and sweet boredom. Gentle old fishermen traded us lobsters for t-shirts, knowing full well we were getting a deal in the exchange. The locals at the occasional side-road tienda welcomed us with warmth, looked after us.
That part of Baja seemed like a home. Like people had roots, a sense of place and pride. Whereas no one—not the cops or the curio shop owners or the bat shit crazy white people—seemed compelled to honor or preserve or make Tijuana better.
Then Nortec Collective happened. That band of Tijuana DJs, musicians and artists stole the spotlight back from the donkeys painted like zebras (zonkeys). My San Diego art friends moved to TJ. Partially because rent was $200. Partially because TJ was the only thing south of L.A. that was remotely edgy or artistic.
And then 2006 happened. The Mexican government stopped doing blow at parties with the cartels and started arresting them. That seemed like great news, but it wasn’t. When you remove the big dog from the yard, the smaller dogs fight over the bone. Up-and-coming cartels fought in the streets for control of the crime market. Tijuana became a bloodbath. Kidnapping became municipal sport.
Now, the dust has settled and—lo and behold—Baja is one of the most buzzed-about food and drink destinations on the planet. “Baja Med” is the name of its famous cuisine (even if some locals and chefs chuckle at it). News headlines about the food scene in the warm-climate region tend to use the word “hot” or “sizzling.”
Two years ago, star Tijuana chef Javier Plascencia told the New Yorker and the New York Times that he wanted to turn Baja into an international food destination. Just like San Francisco or Mexico City. Two months ago, photographer Jaime Fritsch and I set out on a series of day trips to see how far Plascencia and his colleagues had come.
I am a very different sort of tourist than I was in 2006. Which is good, because Baja is a very different sort of tourist destination. The pattern of consumption is moving away from the excessive intake of mediocre things, and more toward moderate intake of good things. Less tequila poppers, more snifter Mezcal.
After spending time there speaking with its innovators, I left with so many reasons why Baja’s food, wine and culture is terribly, terribly exciting. But the one idea locals expressed again and again goes something like this:
The violent years were awful. But this cultural surge might not have happened without them. When tourists stopped coming, Baja created a culture for its own people. They stopped catering to tourists’ wants and desires, and catered to their own. Ironically, that’s what’s made it especially attractive. After all, who wants to arrive in Paris only to realize it’s been designed to live up to American stereotypes of Paris (painters in berets talking snootily about sex)?
I want to experience Baja on its terms, not my own.
My story, “The Baja Moment,” ends with an anecdote some people feel I shouldn’t have told. Driving back from Valle de Guadalupe, we were pulled over by a police officer in Tecate. He said we didn’t come to a complete stop and we’d have to go down to the station. We were intimidated, missed our families, and didn’t know how to properly handle the situation. So we asked if we could take care of the ticket right there. We paid him off.
I was incredibly bummed. It’s my job to tell a true, firsthand experience as an American writer returning to Baja. And now he forced himself into my experience. When I relayed the story to the Baja tourism director, he was livid. He asked for his badge number (I didn’t think to get it), and told me about a hotline that Americans can call in situations like that. If it ever happens again, maybe I will.
But a crooked cop won’t keep me away from Baja. Neither will the fact that in some parts, Tijuana smells like shit. As more than a few locals told me: Baja isn’t for everyone, and that’s OK.
It’s definitely for me.
I hope you enjoy the story. I researched it exhaustively and relay a lot of statistics and ideas from the people who are creating Baja. It’s not meant to be a complete history or almanac. There are so many innovators and important people who helped shape the region’s food and drink scene that I wasn’t able to include simply due to space and time.
I start the story with Derrik Chinn, an American journalist living in Tijuana who has been bringing Americans down to experience the city in a real, non-tourist way for years. I felt apprehensive that the first voice you hear in a story about the region is a non-Mexican. But I wanted to organize the story as the typical American might experience it themselves—start through another American’s eyes—and then get to know the natives and influential people who have been building their native culture for a long, long time. Plus, Chinn is an eloquent, passionate participant in Baja culture.
The hardest part for me with this story is limitations. I could have written a book. I ended up with 5,000 words. But we also needed space in the magazine for Jaime’s beautiful photos. So I cut it down to 3,000 words. Fernando Gaxiola, owner of Baja Wine + Food and the largest importer of Baja wines, has a fascinating perspective on the wine regions that I need to tell. One of my favorite humans in Valle de Guadalupe—Natalia Badan, a sort of spiritual mother of the Valle—isn’t included here at all. Javier Plascencia’s phenomenal assistant Diana Jimenez was basically our tour guide and gave us invaluable insight. We had to cut it for space.
I had so many insightful conversations with people in Baja. We would talk for a half hour, maybe an hour. Then it was my job to bottle our entire conversation into one paragraph. Then take that one paragraph and bottle it into a sentence or two. There are so many great truths and ideas in the story; and yet so much is lost, too.
Over the next few weeks, I’ll present some of those ideas and interviews on SD Food News. Because they were so insightful and helpful to understanding the region, and I don’t like wasting people’s breath.
I’d like to thank everyone who took their time to help me on this story and yet who aren’t included: Diana Jimenez, Fernando Gaxiola, Jay Porter, Antonio from Life + Food and Club Tengo Hambre, Genaro Valladolid (Bustamante Realty Group), Flor Franco and Natalia Badan.
Thanks for reading. Now go to Baja.
Baja. Desert magic.
Jaime Fritsch
The post Behind the Baja Story appeared first on San Diego Magazine.
]]>The post Behind the Baja Story appeared first on San Diego Magazine.
]]>Maybe that’s not such a bad thing.
The cover story of this month’s San Diego Magazine is my account of going back to Baja for the first time since all the blood. I had written off Tijuana. I knew the violent years were over. I’d seen the crime statistics (you have a greater chance of getting murdered in Chicago). I just had a fear echo.
As a kid growing up in San Diego, there was no shortage of slander about Mexico. The country was like that reclusive man in your neighborhood with the limp and the dead lawn who was known to bury children in his backyard. Adults told us bad men lurked on the other side of the border fence, waiting for white people with nice shoes. They pointed guns at you until you jumped in their sack. Then they called your family and asked for money. You might make it home. All of your fingers would not.
I started sneaking down there in 1987 when I was 14. At 4’11″ and still pre-pubescent, I had all the manliness of a Christmas elf. But I was able to get a fake ID at a small store in Downtown San Diego whose relationship with the Better Business Bureau was probably complicated. I drank buckets of Coronas at Peanuts & Beer, dancing to Salt N Pepa under black lights next to 18 year-old SDSU freshmen and menopausal hookers. I showed Tijuana far too little respect, partially because it didn’t seem interested in much.
I never got drugged or kidnapped. I did get shaken-down by two police officers. Paid one off with $6. The other got $50 after he took issue with the Swiss Army Knife in my pocket and told me I was going to jail forever and ever.
But I also saw another side of Baja. We’d drive 160 kilometers south of Ensenada and turn down nameless dirt roads until we hit water. We parked our trucks on the sand, camping and surfing for days. Just us, a wet horizon and sweet boredom. Gentle old fishermen traded us lobsters for t-shirts, knowing full well we were getting a deal in the exchange. The locals at the occasional side-road tienda welcomed us with warmth, looked after us.
That part of Baja seemed like a home. Like people had roots, a sense of place and pride. Whereas no one—not the cops or the curio shop owners or the bat shit crazy white people—seemed compelled to honor or preserve or make Tijuana better.
Then Nortec Collective happened. That band of Tijuana DJs, musicians and artists stole the spotlight back from the donkeys painted like zebras (zonkeys). My San Diego art friends moved to TJ. Partially because rent was $200. Partially because TJ was the only thing south of L.A. that was remotely edgy or artistic.
And then 2006 happened. The Mexican government stopped doing blow at parties with the cartels and started arresting them. That seemed like great news, but it wasn’t. When you remove the big dog from the yard, the smaller dogs fight over the bone. Up-and-coming cartels fought in the streets for control of the crime market. Tijuana became a bloodbath. Kidnapping became municipal sport.
Now, the dust has settled and—lo and behold—Baja is one of the most buzzed-about food and drink destinations on the planet. “Baja Med” is the name of its famous cuisine (even if some locals and chefs chuckle at it). News headlines about the food scene in the warm-climate region tend to use the word “hot” or “sizzling.”
Two years ago, star Tijuana chef Javier Plascencia told the New Yorker and the New York Times that he wanted to turn Baja into an international food destination. Just like San Francisco or Mexico City. Two months ago, photographer Jaime Fritsch and I set out on a series of day trips to see how far Plascencia and his colleagues had come.
I am a very different sort of tourist than I was in 2006. Which is good, because Baja is a very different sort of tourist destination. The pattern of consumption is moving away from the excessive intake of mediocre things, and more toward moderate intake of good things. Less tequila poppers, more snifter Mezcal.
After spending time there speaking with its innovators, I left with so many reasons why Baja’s food, wine and culture is terribly, terribly exciting. But the one idea locals expressed again and again goes something like this:
The violent years were awful. But this cultural surge might not have happened without them. When tourists stopped coming, Baja created a culture for its own people. They stopped catering to tourists’ wants and desires, and catered to their own. Ironically, that’s what’s made it especially attractive. After all, who wants to arrive in Paris only to realize it’s been designed to live up to American stereotypes of Paris (painters in berets talking snootily about sex)?
I want to experience Baja on its terms, not my own.
My story, “The Baja Moment,” ends with an anecdote some people feel I shouldn’t have told. Driving back from Valle de Guadalupe, we were pulled over by a police officer in Tecate. He said we didn’t come to a complete stop and we’d have to go down to the station. We were intimidated, missed our families, and didn’t know how to properly handle the situation. So we asked if we could take care of the ticket right there. We paid him off.
I was incredibly bummed. It’s my job to tell a true, firsthand experience as an American writer returning to Baja. And now he forced himself into my experience. When I relayed the story to the Baja tourism director, he was livid. He asked for his badge number (I didn’t think to get it), and told me about a hotline that Americans can call in situations like that. If it ever happens again, maybe I will.
But a crooked cop won’t keep me away from Baja. Neither will the fact that in some parts, Tijuana smells like shit. As more than a few locals told me: Baja isn’t for everyone, and that’s OK.
It’s definitely for me.
I hope you enjoy the story. I researched it exhaustively and relay a lot of statistics and ideas from the people who are creating Baja. It’s not meant to be a complete history or almanac. There are so many innovators and important people who helped shape the region’s food and drink scene that I wasn’t able to include simply due to space and time.
I start the story with Derrik Chinn, an American journalist living in Tijuana who has been bringing Americans down to experience the city in a real, non-tourist way for years. I felt apprehensive that the first voice you hear in a story about the region is a non-Mexican. But I wanted to organize the story as the typical American might experience it themselves—start through another American’s eyes—and then get to know the natives and influential people who have been building their native culture for a long, long time. Plus, Chinn is an eloquent, passionate participant in Baja culture.
The hardest part for me with this story is limitations. I could have written a book. I ended up with 5,000 words. But we also needed space in the magazine for Jaime’s beautiful photos. So I cut it down to 3,000 words. Fernando Gaxiola, owner of Baja Wine + Food and the largest importer of Baja wines, has a fascinating perspective on the wine regions that I need to tell. One of my favorite humans in Valle de Guadalupe—Natalia Badan, a sort of spiritual mother of the Valle—isn’t included here at all. Javier Plascencia’s phenomenal assistant Diana Jimenez was basically our tour guide and gave us invaluable insight. We had to cut it for space.
I had so many insightful conversations with people in Baja. We would talk for a half hour, maybe an hour. Then it was my job to bottle our entire conversation into one paragraph. Then take that one paragraph and bottle it into a sentence or two. There are so many great truths and ideas in the story; and yet so much is lost, too.
Over the next few weeks, I’ll present some of those ideas and interviews on SD Food News. Because they were so insightful and helpful to understanding the region, and I don’t like wasting people’s breath.
I’d like to thank everyone who took their time to help me on this story and yet who aren’t included: Diana Jimenez, Fernando Gaxiola, Jay Porter, Antonio from Life + Food and Club Tengo Hambre, Genaro Valladolid (Bustamante Realty Group), Flor Franco and Natalia Badan.
Thanks for reading. Now go to Baja.
Baja. Desert magic.
Jaime Fritsch
The post Behind the Baja Story appeared first on San Diego Magazine.
]]>The post The Baja Moment appeared first on San Diego Magazine.
]]>In eight short years, Baja’s gone from a virtual dead zone to one of the globe’s top food and drink destinations. With the world watching, how will innovators in Tijuana and Valle de Guadalupe handle growing crowds and attention—without selling their souls?
The Baja Moment
Misión 19’s trio of local ceviches over a bed of rusty nails and seaweed, a tribute to a local beach.
Misión 19’s trio of local ceviches over a bed of rusty nails and seaweed, a tribute to a local beach.
That smell has always saddened me. That’s Tijuana’s handshake to the world—a pungent spritz of sewage? The Tijuana River Basin runs under the San Ysidro border crossing, carrying a flotilla of discarded grossness. Most tourists like their travel destinations more redolent of spa eucalyptus. The smell is why some of them don’t come here.
“Tijuana’s not for everybody, and that’s okay,” says Derrik Chinn, an American journalist who’s lived there since 2007. Chinn owns Turista Libre!, leading gringos on cultural excursions through Tijuana. When he started, Mexican cabbies threw rocks at his bus. In September, the TJ newspaper hailed his contribution to the city.
“The city’s been a tourist trap since Prohibition,” he says. “The drug wars and border waits gave the city a much, much-needed chance to define itself for itself. The tourists weren’t coming. What if they never came back?”
Prohibition is why Tijuana became what it became. Hollywood A-listers came here to gamble at Caliente, watch bullfights on acid, escape America’s crushing sobriety. Preachers called it “Satan’s Playground.” By the ’80s, Avenida Revolucion was a prolific vice market made grotesque by the drastic socioeconomic divide between the sellers and the buyers. It was the place to get drunk, drugged, mugged, prostituted, marginalized, corrupted, blasphemed, kidnapped, and thrown in a moldy jail forever and ever.
Of course, that was always part of Tijuana’s allure—fear being the catalyst for pleasure that it is.
The Baja Moment
Chef Javier Plascencia
Chef Javier Plascencia
Then Nortec Collective happened. In 1999, this small army of Tijuana DJs, musicians, and artists became internationally famous. Art stole the spotlight back from the donkeys painted like zebras (zonkeys).
Then there was blood. In 2006, the Mexican government stopped partying with the cartels and started arresting them. With a power vacuum created, aspiring cartels fought in the streets over the lucrative crime market. American media peeked over the fence and inflamed the scene even more.
The Baja Moment
“Raining Machetes in Mexico!”
“How to Survive A Battery Acid Attack in TJ!”
Americans overreacted and wrote off the entire country. Like someone from Mexico City saying, “Sorry, niños. There’s murder in Chicago. No Disneyland this year.”
Now, the dust has settled and Baja is one of the most buzzed-about culinary destinations on the planet. Anthony Bourdain, Andrew Zimmern, and Rick Bayless are praising it on TV. The Wall Street Journal is taking it seriously enough to critique the region’s wines. This year’s esteemed S. Pellegrino list of Latin America’s Top 50 Best Restaurants included two in Baja.
A couple years ago, star Tijuana chef Javier Plascencia told the New Yorker and the New York Times he wanted to see Baja become an international food destination one day. Just like San Francisco or Mexico City.
That day is now.
Tijuana’s most brilliant tourism initiative seems to have been ignoring tourists. By doing so, they created an exciting native culture that’s attracting a more sophisticated breed of visitor.
“People are open to seeing Tijuana less as a tourist, and more as a traveler,” Chinn suggests. “As a tourist, the city is adapting to you. As a traveler, you’re adapting to the city.”
This time, chefs were the Nortec Collective—cultural ambassadors luring foreigners back to Mexico. Famed chefs like Benito Molina (Manzanilla), Diego Hernandez (Corazon de Tierra), and Miguel Angel Guerrero (La Querencia) cooked at events in the U.S. Jair Téllez—often called the Thomas Keller of Baja—helped design the menu at former San Diego restaurant El Take It Easy. Top San Diego restaurants have added Baja Med dishes (grilled octopus, tiraditos, gourmet tostadas, etc.).
The Baja Moment
Baja California’s wealth of locally caught seafood and farmers market produce is helping spur a culinary renaissance.
Baja California’s wealth of locally caught seafood and farmers market produce is helping spur a culinary renaissance.
A lot of credit has deservedly gone to Plascencia. The chef was raised on both sides of the border. He’s bilingual. He looks like a Mexican George Clooney. Most importantly, he can really cook. He is the gateway.
Plascencia helps his father, Juan Jose, run Grupo Plascencia, one of Tijuana’s largest restaurant groups. In 2007, the kidnapping epidemic forced Plascencia to relocate his family to Chula Vista, where he opened Romesco Baja Med. He helped manage his TJ restaurants via camera on his computer. When he ventured into Mexico, he rode a motorcycle with a dark helmet for disguise. He brought Baja chefs north, and took American friends on taco tours of Tijuana.
“People ask why I bring all these gringo chefs down,” he tells me before the annual Vendimias wine harvest dinner at Finca Altozano, his outdoor restaurant in Valle de Guadalupe. It’s a six-course collaborative feast with Mexican chefs, former French Laundry chef de cuisine Timothy Hollingsworth and San Diego’s Jon Sloan (Juniper & Ivy). “Because they spread the word,” he says.
Later this year, Plascencia will open Bracero in Little Italy. It will be his biggest San Diego restaurant yet—a celebration of Baja food and drink. It will spread the word.
The Baja Moment
At Tijuana’s central farmers market, Mercado Hidalgo, there are mole sauces in buckets, honeycomb, dried fruit, chiles in every imaginable form, an orgy of produce. There’s lemongrass and bok choi, a nod to the large Asian population who came to America to work the railroads and fled to Tijuana to avoid persecution.
“Ask locals for their favorite restaurant and seven times out of 10 it’ll be a Chinese place,” Plascencia laughs, pointing out the heavy Asian influence in Baja cuisine (the fish in fish tacos is tempura-battered).
The Baja Moment
Ceviche with octopus and dorado, topped with caviar.
Baja is an ingredient goldmine. The soil rivals California’s for top-notch, year-round produce. The Sea of Cortez supplies mussels, octopus, spiny lobster, bluefin tuna, chocolate clams—almost every aquatic delicacy. Ensenada’s olive oil is world-class.
“Produce grows the best here,” says chef-hunter-fisherman Guerrero, a fourth-generation Tijuana native who opened La Querencia in Rosarito in 2001. He’s since expanded with El Taller in Tijuana and Almazara Gastrobar in Valle de Guadalupe, and a new concept at the massive L.A. Cetto winery in the Valle.
Guerrero trademarked the term “Baja Med.”
So what is Baja Med? Very effective marketing. Just like Puebla is famous for mole and Jalisco for tequila, Baja needed a food identity. Outsiders largely viewed Mexican food as inexpensive, hastily made, to-go cuisine. The word “Med” (for Mediterranean) simply elevated its cultural cache. Plus, Baja has a warm, seaside climate like towns along the Adriatic Sea. Dishes are often cooked using wood and smoke, chiles, local vegetables and seafood, prepared with a mix of Mexican, French, Italian, and Asian techniques. Tourism officials are looking to get “Baja Med” registered as an official, geographically protected phrase.
“I fish, I dive, and I hunt,” says Guerrero via phone from a fishing tournament. “Whatever I catch I put on my menu.”
That’s another perk. Baja chefs are unburdened by the USDA. It’s illegal for American chefs to hunt-and-serve. Mexico’s famed lawlessness has been a boon for gourmet foods like house-made cheese, chorizo, and charcuterie.
The Baja Moment
Third wave pour-over, Caffe Sospeso.
Third wave pour-over, Caffe Sospeso.
At Caffe Sospeso, Tijuana has its own Third Wave coffee shop, like Blue Bottle in the Bay Area or San Diego’s Caffe Calabria. I share a glass of their thick, naturally sweet cold-brew with Javier González, director of the Culinary Art School. When it first opened in 2003 with 32 students, there was no cooking school in Tijuana. Now they have 225 students, and Tijuana has approximately 10 cooking schools. González says 70 percent of graduates—like Diego Hernández and Martin Vargas of Tijuana’s top new restaurant, Verde Y Crema—are now staying in Baja instead of leaving for American food cities like San Diego or New York.
“A couple years ago, fine dining in Tijuana was just French food,” explains Vargas, who says the school is a boon for Baja’s food scene. “Now we’re focusing on what we have here.”
Other graduates are starting their own food carts, inspired by the popular street-food vendors at Food Garden—home to Tacos Kokopelli, Los Chilaquiles, and La Taqueseria. “Mexicans are very used to eating in the streets. We’ve done it our whole life,” González explains. “Street vendors and food trucks are the first step in educating people about good food. They try truffle fries for the first time there, and then they go to a restaurant.”
Street food has captured America’s eye, too. But a fleet of food trucks in a Walmart parking lot lacks the sense of place you feel at the string of taco huts at Las Ahumaderas, the al pastor at Tacos El Franc, or carne asada sandwiches at Tortas WashMobile.
“This city is only 125 years old,” says Gonzalez. “When I got here 11 years ago, most people weren’t from Tijuana. They were from Sonora, Jalisco, Oaxaca—just trying to jump into the U.S. to chase the American dream. The streets were dirty. They didn’t feel proud of Tijuana. They’d say they were from Baja, not Tijuana. When they didn’t make it to the U.S., they stayed here. They developed a relationship with the city. Now they defend Tijuana.”
The Baja Moment
Local lamb tamale from La Querencia.
Local lamb tamale from La Querencia.
Perched atop the Via Corporativo building—Baja’s first LEED-certified structure—Misión 19 is a source of pride. This is Plascencia’s showroom for modern Baja cuisine, like bone marrow with avocado meringue. Or a trio of local ceviches suspended over a bed of rusty nails and seaweed (an ode to the nearby beach at Popotle). Plascencia says about 60 percent of Misión 19’s customers are Americans.
State Tourism Minister Oscar Escobedo is a regular customer.
“Chefs realize they have the most desired species of seafood here, including lobster, abalone, and bluefin,” he says. “We’re the second greatest producer of grape tomatoes in the world, and first for strawberries. Our wines have won over 1,000 gold medals. It helps that we have the French in Ensenada with their pastries, our Mexican food, Chinese in Mexicali. These kids make the fusion food called Baja Med—a taco made out of duck.”
The government has helped Baja food. At Plascencia’s urging, Tijuana created the Distrito Gastronómico, a restaurant row with a well-paved walking route. The Baja government flies Miguel Angel Guerrero to Korea, Japan, England, Spain, and Israel as an ambassador for Baja Med. The state also designed a “Ruta del Vino,” a sign-posted route through the Valle de Guadalupe wine region.
I ask Escobedo what holds Baja’s food scene back.
The border, he says. The northbound San Ysidro Port of Entry is the western hemisphere’s busiest, with an average of 50,000 cars a day. Up until recently, it could be up to a three- or four-hour wait.
As part of a $741 million overhaul (set for 2018 completion), 25 northbound lanes were opened in September, most serving two cars at a time. That’s reduced the wait, at least for now. But Escobedo would like to do more—granting high-value visitors access to express lanes, much like Mexico does for medical tourists.
Dinner at Misión 19? Express lane for you.
The Baja Moment
Beef birria street tacos from tijuana’s Birria De Res.
Beef birria street tacos from tijuana’s Birria De Res.
Mexico isn’t just courting American tourists. Tijuana is the only city in Latin America with a direct flight to China (originally created to export Baja’s produce to Shanghai). “There are more English speakers in China than there are in America,” Escobedo says. Next year, he plans to heavily promote the craft beer scene.
After a long battle against a government-enabled monopoly, Baja craft beer is primed for its own big moment. Until earlier this year, Mexico allowed the top two brewers—FEMSA (Tecate) and Grupo Modelo (Corona)—to monopolize the country’s liquor licenses. The brewers granted them to bar owners who agreed to serve their beer exclusively.
The Baja Moment
Roasted beef bone marrow and avocado meringue, Misión 19.
“They changed that law—they can’t have exclusivity anymore,” explains Damien Morales of Cerveceria Insurgente, whose three-story brewery and tasting room is nearly ready in downtown TJ. “Our business has quadrupled. There are probably 50 breweries in Tijuana now, mostly nano-breweries.”
Damien and his brother, Iván—along with breweries like Border Psycho, Wendlandt, Agua Mala, and Mamut, plus bars Beer Box, BCB, and Sotano Suizo—are leading the craft beer scene. Insurgente won three gold medals at the country’s top beer competition.
As Baja’s craft beer emerges, its wine region has arrived. To reach Valle de Guadalupe, we drive down the coastal toll road, past Rosarito and Querencia, past the 75-foot Jesus statue, past the famous lobster village of Puerto Nuevo, and—run into a huge hole in the earth. Last December, the main road to Ensenada collapsed 100 feet from the ocean. It’s still not fixed.
That means, at the height of foreign interest in modern Baja cuisine, the road impairs travelers from reaching what many consider its birthplace—Restaurante Manzanilla in Ensenada. It was there in 2000 that chef Benito Molina created his world-class Baja restaurant using all local ingredients.
“There was a wine movement here, but local ingredients were being exported to the rest of Mexico and the U.S.,” explains Solange Muris, Benito’s wife and Manzanilla’s co-owner, co-chef, and co-star on their TV show, Benito y Solange. “The cooks were using foie gras and truffles.”
This year, Manzanilla was ranked No. 25 in S. Pellegrino’s list of Latin America’s Top 50 Restaurants. I ask when she expects the road to be finished. (There is a detour, but it is much slower.) She laughs: “I stopped believing in Santa Claus.”
She and Benito also operate Silvestre, one of the many temporary restaurants during Valle de Guadalupe’s harvest season. “The Valle” is a delicate, divisive subject. Every local has an idea of how to deal with its newfound fame.
“I understand that everyone thinks it’s super cool to have a restaurant in the Valle,” says Muris, flatly. “But we have to be careful. We don’t want a McDonald’s.”
The Baja Moment
Finca Altozano.
Finca Altozano.
Like Valle de Guadalupe’s most impressive wineries, Encuentro Antiresort (the former Hotel Endemico) intentionally straddles the line between art and dirt. There are no well-lit hallways. Just 20 stand-alone studios atop stilts, nestled into the hills. The front desk gives you a flashlight. It’s you, a clay urn full of firewood, and those famous Baja stars.
The Valle below looks like someone planted grapes on the moon. Fitting, since the Valle is just about as dry.
Located 40 minutes northeast of Ensenada, 90 percent of Mexico’s wine comes from these 8,500 acres, accessible by a series of dirt roads. Wine Enthusiast recently named it one of the wine world’s top 10 travel destinations. Developers are crafting plans. Elder residents are protesting them. Last year, locals barely thwarted a shady, closed-door vote to approve a 996-acre Miami-style condo development.
The Baja Moment
El Taller’s chef Miguel Angel Guerrero prepares a suckling pig.
In the ’70s, the Valle was dominated by three big wineries: L.A. Cetto, Domecq, and Santo Tomas. Then the economy sank. The wineries stopped buying grapes from locals. Residents abandoned their vineyards and their homes. The big wineries survived; the community did not.
Hugo D’Acosta made sure that wouldn’t happen again. Raised in Mexico City and trained in Bordeaux, D’Acosta taught local growers how to make their own wine in the late ’80s. That turned them into businessmen, which helped turn the Valle into what it is now—a basin full of more than 100 small-scale, independent wineries, including D’Acosta’s Casa de Piedra. That decentralization helps stabilize the local economy.
Some call D’Acosta the Mexican Mondavi. (Every icon here seems to have a “The Mexican _____” moniker, assigned by American media).
The Valle has always been a sort of a culinary migrant camp. Chefs from Tijuana, Mexico City, or Cabo set up campestre restaurants for the summer tourist season. But in 2001, Tijuana chef Jair Téllez (“The Mexican Thomas Keller”) opened Laja in a single-story house at the end of a dirt road—and never closed. Téllez had worked under Daniel Boulud in New York and Roland Passot in San Francisco. He lived in the back of Laja and served four- and eight-course French-inspired tasting menus in the front.
“I wanted to find my place with my people,” he says. “So I created a destination restaurant. We didn’t take tables larger than 10. We didn’t do events. We didn’t have chips and salsa. But it worked.”
The Baja Moment
The bar at La escuelita in Valle de guadalupe, a wine school and incubator set up by hugo d’acosta to teach locals how to make their own wine.
The bar at La escuelita in Valle de guadalupe, a wine school and incubator set up by hugo d’acosta to teach locals how to make their own wine.
For six years Téllez created tirelessly—sometimes for a packed dining room, sometimes for solace. In 2008 he left Laja in the hands of friend/cook/sommelier Andres Blanco, and went to Mexico City to open MeroToro. He returns to Laja once a month. Last year, both restaurants made S. Pellegrino’s list.
The Valle’s recent tipping point seems to have been 2011, with the arrival of three prominent chefs. Phil and Eileen Gregory (retired Brits with ties to the Eurythmics and the recording industry) partnered with chef Diego Hernández for Corazon de Tierra, an indoor-outdoor restaurant at their bed-and-breakfast La Villa del Valle. Beneath some pine trees on one of the oldest wineries, Mogor-Badan, Michelin-starred chef Drew Deckman set up what is essentially a gourmet campsite (Deckman’s en el Mogor). And Plascencia opened Finca Altozano.
The Baja Moment
Locally caught dorado topped with beef bacon, La Querencia.
“The plan was to have a two-month sabbatical,” explains Deckman, who worked under legendary chefs Paul Bocuse and Jacques Maximin. “I started with 30 seats. Now I’ve got 85. The first year we stayed open two months. Last year it was six. This year we’re staying open year-round.”
While Deckman’s is statement minimalism, Finca is a pretty elaborate gourmet party compound. Three 15-foot fermentation tanks are topped with banquettes for private dining, or wine perches. Under a 70-foot oak tree, there’s a three-layer deck with lights for events. The plan is to build eight casitas on the property for people to stay a few days.
“Javier did Finca in a very Tijuana way—a smart, entrepreneurial way,” chuckles Téllez. On busy nights Finca will sell out, serving 500 guests. Yet Plascencia has reservations about growth, too.
“A lot of people aren’t coming to Vendimias this year,” he says of the Valle’s annual wine-harvest parties. “Tickets are now $150 to $200. People think it’s a little too snobby. At the big places, you have Kenny G playing and all this shit. The Vendimias should not be that.”
Deckman says when he opened, there were 23 restaurants in Valle de Guadalupe. Now he estimates there are 80-plus, not including taco stands. Plascencia’s estimate is closer to 50. Either way, it’s significant growth, which creates significant challenges.
“But there’s no more hotel rooms—just a lot more tables and chairs,” he says. “With the press the Valle’s getting, the wave is big and everyone’s riding it. I think it’s great. But some people show up with big eyes and then walk away a year later thinking, ‘Man, maybe I shouldn’t have sold my house in San Diego.’”
“We need the right growth, not no growth,” says Téllez.
“There’s a big discussion about how big the wine region could be with tourism—but I think the Valle should remain rural,” says D’Acosta, who cites last year’s meager 3.5 inches of rainfall (half the annual average). “We don’t have water for irrigation.”
I ask him about a quote T Magazine had attributed to him: “Good roads, bad tourists. Bad roads, good tourists.”
“It’s not that we don’t want good roads,” he clarifies. “But a filter helps get the right people here. When you have everything in your hands, you lose a bit of real perspective. In Acapulco and Cancún, tourists don’t care if it’s Mexico. People will come to the Valle because they like the people and we can show them the way we live—rather than becoming a server.”
The Baja Moment
Plascencia in the garden at Mogor Badan
Plascencia in the garden at Mogor Badan
One of my sources tells me the big wineries—L.A. Cetto and Domecq—are working on a gastro village that includes a signature restaurant, cheese shop, art center, and bike shop. Homes (ranchitos) will be sold with their own vineyards included for somewhere around $2 million. The management company is rumored to be Auberge Resorts, which has three properties in Napa (Calistoga Ranch, VieVage, Auberge du Soleil) and Esperanza in Cabo San Lucas. Auberge declined to comment.
Is that growth—luxury residences with a focus on food, wine, and nature—the right kind?
One Valle icon says yes. Another says no. A third refers to it as “the Temeculization” of the Valle. Such is the Valle right now. It stands at a divided path, and the future is breathing down its neck.
Our time in the Valle is, as advertised, magical. There’s no sense of danger. We are not kidnapped or mugged or murdered. Our faith in Baja is enervated, restored.
About five minutes from the Tecate border crossing, we’re pulled over by a police officer. He claims we didn’t come to a complete stop and we’ll have to go with him down to the station. We pay him $60 and he bids us a good day. We then spend nearly four hours in a long, sweltering crawl through the line of cars crossing into the U.S.
Filters, I think.
The post The Baja Moment appeared first on San Diego Magazine.
]]>The post The Baja Moment appeared first on San Diego Magazine.
]]>In eight short years, Baja’s gone from a virtual dead zone to one of the globe’s top food and drink destinations. With the world watching, how will innovators in Tijuana and Valle de Guadalupe handle growing crowds and attention—without selling their souls?
The Baja Moment
Misión 19’s trio of local ceviches over a bed of rusty nails and seaweed, a tribute to a local beach.
Misión 19’s trio of local ceviches over a bed of rusty nails and seaweed, a tribute to a local beach.
That smell has always saddened me. That’s Tijuana’s handshake to the world—a pungent spritz of sewage? The Tijuana River Basin runs under the San Ysidro border crossing, carrying a flotilla of discarded grossness. Most tourists like their travel destinations more redolent of spa eucalyptus. The smell is why some of them don’t come here.
“Tijuana’s not for everybody, and that’s okay,” says Derrik Chinn, an American journalist who’s lived there since 2007. Chinn owns Turista Libre!, leading gringos on cultural excursions through Tijuana. When he started, Mexican cabbies threw rocks at his bus. In September, the TJ newspaper hailed his contribution to the city.
“The city’s been a tourist trap since Prohibition,” he says. “The drug wars and border waits gave the city a much, much-needed chance to define itself for itself. The tourists weren’t coming. What if they never came back?”
Prohibition is why Tijuana became what it became. Hollywood A-listers came here to gamble at Caliente, watch bullfights on acid, escape America’s crushing sobriety. Preachers called it “Satan’s Playground.” By the ’80s, Avenida Revolucion was a prolific vice market made grotesque by the drastic socioeconomic divide between the sellers and the buyers. It was the place to get drunk, drugged, mugged, prostituted, marginalized, corrupted, blasphemed, kidnapped, and thrown in a moldy jail forever and ever.
Of course, that was always part of Tijuana’s allure—fear being the catalyst for pleasure that it is.
The Baja Moment
Chef Javier Plascencia
Chef Javier Plascencia
Then Nortec Collective happened. In 1999, this small army of Tijuana DJs, musicians, and artists became internationally famous. Art stole the spotlight back from the donkeys painted like zebras (zonkeys).
Then there was blood. In 2006, the Mexican government stopped partying with the cartels and started arresting them. With a power vacuum created, aspiring cartels fought in the streets over the lucrative crime market. American media peeked over the fence and inflamed the scene even more.
The Baja Moment
“Raining Machetes in Mexico!”
“How to Survive A Battery Acid Attack in TJ!”
Americans overreacted and wrote off the entire country. Like someone from Mexico City saying, “Sorry, niños. There’s murder in Chicago. No Disneyland this year.”
Now, the dust has settled and Baja is one of the most buzzed-about culinary destinations on the planet. Anthony Bourdain, Andrew Zimmern, and Rick Bayless are praising it on TV. The Wall Street Journal is taking it seriously enough to critique the region’s wines. This year’s esteemed S. Pellegrino list of Latin America’s Top 50 Best Restaurants included two in Baja.
A couple years ago, star Tijuana chef Javier Plascencia told the New Yorker and the New York Times he wanted to see Baja become an international food destination one day. Just like San Francisco or Mexico City.
That day is now.
Tijuana’s most brilliant tourism initiative seems to have been ignoring tourists. By doing so, they created an exciting native culture that’s attracting a more sophisticated breed of visitor.
“People are open to seeing Tijuana less as a tourist, and more as a traveler,” Chinn suggests. “As a tourist, the city is adapting to you. As a traveler, you’re adapting to the city.”
This time, chefs were the Nortec Collective—cultural ambassadors luring foreigners back to Mexico. Famed chefs like Benito Molina (Manzanilla), Diego Hernandez (Corazon de Tierra), and Miguel Angel Guerrero (La Querencia) cooked at events in the U.S. Jair Téllez—often called the Thomas Keller of Baja—helped design the menu at former San Diego restaurant El Take It Easy. Top San Diego restaurants have added Baja Med dishes (grilled octopus, tiraditos, gourmet tostadas, etc.).
The Baja Moment
Baja California’s wealth of locally caught seafood and farmers market produce is helping spur a culinary renaissance.
Baja California’s wealth of locally caught seafood and farmers market produce is helping spur a culinary renaissance.
A lot of credit has deservedly gone to Plascencia. The chef was raised on both sides of the border. He’s bilingual. He looks like a Mexican George Clooney. Most importantly, he can really cook. He is the gateway.
Plascencia helps his father, Juan Jose, run Grupo Plascencia, one of Tijuana’s largest restaurant groups. In 2007, the kidnapping epidemic forced Plascencia to relocate his family to Chula Vista, where he opened Romesco Baja Med. He helped manage his TJ restaurants via camera on his computer. When he ventured into Mexico, he rode a motorcycle with a dark helmet for disguise. He brought Baja chefs north, and took American friends on taco tours of Tijuana.
“People ask why I bring all these gringo chefs down,” he tells me before the annual Vendimias wine harvest dinner at Finca Altozano, his outdoor restaurant in Valle de Guadalupe. It’s a six-course collaborative feast with Mexican chefs, former French Laundry chef de cuisine Timothy Hollingsworth and San Diego’s Jon Sloan (Juniper & Ivy). “Because they spread the word,” he says.
Later this year, Plascencia will open Bracero in Little Italy. It will be his biggest San Diego restaurant yet—a celebration of Baja food and drink. It will spread the word.
The Baja Moment
At Tijuana’s central farmers market, Mercado Hidalgo, there are mole sauces in buckets, honeycomb, dried fruit, chiles in every imaginable form, an orgy of produce. There’s lemongrass and bok choi, a nod to the large Asian population who came to America to work the railroads and fled to Tijuana to avoid persecution.
“Ask locals for their favorite restaurant and seven times out of 10 it’ll be a Chinese place,” Plascencia laughs, pointing out the heavy Asian influence in Baja cuisine (the fish in fish tacos is tempura-battered).
The Baja Moment
Ceviche with octopus and dorado, topped with caviar.
Baja is an ingredient goldmine. The soil rivals California’s for top-notch, year-round produce. The Sea of Cortez supplies mussels, octopus, spiny lobster, bluefin tuna, chocolate clams—almost every aquatic delicacy. Ensenada’s olive oil is world-class.
“Produce grows the best here,” says chef-hunter-fisherman Guerrero, a fourth-generation Tijuana native who opened La Querencia in Rosarito in 2001. He’s since expanded with El Taller in Tijuana and Almazara Gastrobar in Valle de Guadalupe, and a new concept at the massive L.A. Cetto winery in the Valle.
Guerrero trademarked the term “Baja Med.”
So what is Baja Med? Very effective marketing. Just like Puebla is famous for mole and Jalisco for tequila, Baja needed a food identity. Outsiders largely viewed Mexican food as inexpensive, hastily made, to-go cuisine. The word “Med” (for Mediterranean) simply elevated its cultural cache. Plus, Baja has a warm, seaside climate like towns along the Adriatic Sea. Dishes are often cooked using wood and smoke, chiles, local vegetables and seafood, prepared with a mix of Mexican, French, Italian, and Asian techniques. Tourism officials are looking to get “Baja Med” registered as an official, geographically protected phrase.
“I fish, I dive, and I hunt,” says Guerrero via phone from a fishing tournament. “Whatever I catch I put on my menu.”
That’s another perk. Baja chefs are unburdened by the USDA. It’s illegal for American chefs to hunt-and-serve. Mexico’s famed lawlessness has been a boon for gourmet foods like house-made cheese, chorizo, and charcuterie.
The Baja Moment
Third wave pour-over, Caffe Sospeso.
Third wave pour-over, Caffe Sospeso.
At Caffe Sospeso, Tijuana has its own Third Wave coffee shop, like Blue Bottle in the Bay Area or San Diego’s Caffe Calabria. I share a glass of their thick, naturally sweet cold-brew with Javier González, director of the Culinary Art School. When it first opened in 2003 with 32 students, there was no cooking school in Tijuana. Now they have 225 students, and Tijuana has approximately 10 cooking schools. González says 70 percent of graduates—like Diego Hernández and Martin Vargas of Tijuana’s top new restaurant, Verde Y Crema—are now staying in Baja instead of leaving for American food cities like San Diego or New York.
“A couple years ago, fine dining in Tijuana was just French food,” explains Vargas, who says the school is a boon for Baja’s food scene. “Now we’re focusing on what we have here.”
Other graduates are starting their own food carts, inspired by the popular street-food vendors at Food Garden—home to Tacos Kokopelli, Los Chilaquiles, and La Taqueseria. “Mexicans are very used to eating in the streets. We’ve done it our whole life,” González explains. “Street vendors and food trucks are the first step in educating people about good food. They try truffle fries for the first time there, and then they go to a restaurant.”
Street food has captured America’s eye, too. But a fleet of food trucks in a Walmart parking lot lacks the sense of place you feel at the string of taco huts at Las Ahumaderas, the al pastor at Tacos El Franc, or carne asada sandwiches at Tortas WashMobile.
“This city is only 125 years old,” says Gonzalez. “When I got here 11 years ago, most people weren’t from Tijuana. They were from Sonora, Jalisco, Oaxaca—just trying to jump into the U.S. to chase the American dream. The streets were dirty. They didn’t feel proud of Tijuana. They’d say they were from Baja, not Tijuana. When they didn’t make it to the U.S., they stayed here. They developed a relationship with the city. Now they defend Tijuana.”
The Baja Moment
Local lamb tamale from La Querencia.
Local lamb tamale from La Querencia.
Perched atop the Via Corporativo building—Baja’s first LEED-certified structure—Misión 19 is a source of pride. This is Plascencia’s showroom for modern Baja cuisine, like bone marrow with avocado meringue. Or a trio of local ceviches suspended over a bed of rusty nails and seaweed (an ode to the nearby beach at Popotle). Plascencia says about 60 percent of Misión 19’s customers are Americans.
State Tourism Minister Oscar Escobedo is a regular customer.
“Chefs realize they have the most desired species of seafood here, including lobster, abalone, and bluefin,” he says. “We’re the second greatest producer of grape tomatoes in the world, and first for strawberries. Our wines have won over 1,000 gold medals. It helps that we have the French in Ensenada with their pastries, our Mexican food, Chinese in Mexicali. These kids make the fusion food called Baja Med—a taco made out of duck.”
The government has helped Baja food. At Plascencia’s urging, Tijuana created the Distrito Gastronómico, a restaurant row with a well-paved walking route. The Baja government flies Miguel Angel Guerrero to Korea, Japan, England, Spain, and Israel as an ambassador for Baja Med. The state also designed a “Ruta del Vino,” a sign-posted route through the Valle de Guadalupe wine region.
I ask Escobedo what holds Baja’s food scene back.
The border, he says. The northbound San Ysidro Port of Entry is the western hemisphere’s busiest, with an average of 50,000 cars a day. Up until recently, it could be up to a three- or four-hour wait.
As part of a $741 million overhaul (set for 2018 completion), 25 northbound lanes were opened in September, most serving two cars at a time. That’s reduced the wait, at least for now. But Escobedo would like to do more—granting high-value visitors access to express lanes, much like Mexico does for medical tourists.
Dinner at Misión 19? Express lane for you.
The Baja Moment
Beef birria street tacos from tijuana’s Birria De Res.
Beef birria street tacos from tijuana’s Birria De Res.
Mexico isn’t just courting American tourists. Tijuana is the only city in Latin America with a direct flight to China (originally created to export Baja’s produce to Shanghai). “There are more English speakers in China than there are in America,” Escobedo says. Next year, he plans to heavily promote the craft beer scene.
After a long battle against a government-enabled monopoly, Baja craft beer is primed for its own big moment. Until earlier this year, Mexico allowed the top two brewers—FEMSA (Tecate) and Grupo Modelo (Corona)—to monopolize the country’s liquor licenses. The brewers granted them to bar owners who agreed to serve their beer exclusively.
The Baja Moment
Roasted beef bone marrow and avocado meringue, Misión 19.
“They changed that law—they can’t have exclusivity anymore,” explains Damien Morales of Cerveceria Insurgente, whose three-story brewery and tasting room is nearly ready in downtown TJ. “Our business has quadrupled. There are probably 50 breweries in Tijuana now, mostly nano-breweries.”
Damien and his brother, Iván—along with breweries like Border Psycho, Wendlandt, Agua Mala, and Mamut, plus bars Beer Box, BCB, and Sotano Suizo—are leading the craft beer scene. Insurgente won three gold medals at the country’s top beer competition.
As Baja’s craft beer emerges, its wine region has arrived. To reach Valle de Guadalupe, we drive down the coastal toll road, past Rosarito and Querencia, past the 75-foot Jesus statue, past the famous lobster village of Puerto Nuevo, and—run into a huge hole in the earth. Last December, the main road to Ensenada collapsed 100 feet from the ocean. It’s still not fixed.
That means, at the height of foreign interest in modern Baja cuisine, the road impairs travelers from reaching what many consider its birthplace—Restaurante Manzanilla in Ensenada. It was there in 2000 that chef Benito Molina created his world-class Baja restaurant using all local ingredients.
“There was a wine movement here, but local ingredients were being exported to the rest of Mexico and the U.S.,” explains Solange Muris, Benito’s wife and Manzanilla’s co-owner, co-chef, and co-star on their TV show, Benito y Solange. “The cooks were using foie gras and truffles.”
This year, Manzanilla was ranked No. 25 in S. Pellegrino’s list of Latin America’s Top 50 Restaurants. I ask when she expects the road to be finished. (There is a detour, but it is much slower.) She laughs: “I stopped believing in Santa Claus.”
She and Benito also operate Silvestre, one of the many temporary restaurants during Valle de Guadalupe’s harvest season. “The Valle” is a delicate, divisive subject. Every local has an idea of how to deal with its newfound fame.
“I understand that everyone thinks it’s super cool to have a restaurant in the Valle,” says Muris, flatly. “But we have to be careful. We don’t want a McDonald’s.”
The Baja Moment
Finca Altozano.
Finca Altozano.
Like Valle de Guadalupe’s most impressive wineries, Encuentro Antiresort (the former Hotel Endemico) intentionally straddles the line between art and dirt. There are no well-lit hallways. Just 20 stand-alone studios atop stilts, nestled into the hills. The front desk gives you a flashlight. It’s you, a clay urn full of firewood, and those famous Baja stars.
The Valle below looks like someone planted grapes on the moon. Fitting, since the Valle is just about as dry.
Located 40 minutes northeast of Ensenada, 90 percent of Mexico’s wine comes from these 8,500 acres, accessible by a series of dirt roads. Wine Enthusiast recently named it one of the wine world’s top 10 travel destinations. Developers are crafting plans. Elder residents are protesting them. Last year, locals barely thwarted a shady, closed-door vote to approve a 996-acre Miami-style condo development.
The Baja Moment
El Taller’s chef Miguel Angel Guerrero prepares a suckling pig.
In the ’70s, the Valle was dominated by three big wineries: L.A. Cetto, Domecq, and Santo Tomas. Then the economy sank. The wineries stopped buying grapes from locals. Residents abandoned their vineyards and their homes. The big wineries survived; the community did not.
Hugo D’Acosta made sure that wouldn’t happen again. Raised in Mexico City and trained in Bordeaux, D’Acosta taught local growers how to make their own wine in the late ’80s. That turned them into businessmen, which helped turn the Valle into what it is now—a basin full of more than 100 small-scale, independent wineries, including D’Acosta’s Casa de Piedra. That decentralization helps stabilize the local economy.
Some call D’Acosta the Mexican Mondavi. (Every icon here seems to have a “The Mexican _____” moniker, assigned by American media).
The Valle has always been a sort of a culinary migrant camp. Chefs from Tijuana, Mexico City, or Cabo set up campestre restaurants for the summer tourist season. But in 2001, Tijuana chef Jair Téllez (“The Mexican Thomas Keller”) opened Laja in a single-story house at the end of a dirt road—and never closed. Téllez had worked under Daniel Boulud in New York and Roland Passot in San Francisco. He lived in the back of Laja and served four- and eight-course French-inspired tasting menus in the front.
“I wanted to find my place with my people,” he says. “So I created a destination restaurant. We didn’t take tables larger than 10. We didn’t do events. We didn’t have chips and salsa. But it worked.”
The Baja Moment
The bar at La escuelita in Valle de guadalupe, a wine school and incubator set up by hugo d’acosta to teach locals how to make their own wine.
The bar at La escuelita in Valle de guadalupe, a wine school and incubator set up by hugo d’acosta to teach locals how to make their own wine.
For six years Téllez created tirelessly—sometimes for a packed dining room, sometimes for solace. In 2008 he left Laja in the hands of friend/cook/sommelier Andres Blanco, and went to Mexico City to open MeroToro. He returns to Laja once a month. Last year, both restaurants made S. Pellegrino’s list.
The Valle’s recent tipping point seems to have been 2011, with the arrival of three prominent chefs. Phil and Eileen Gregory (retired Brits with ties to the Eurythmics and the recording industry) partnered with chef Diego Hernández for Corazon de Tierra, an indoor-outdoor restaurant at their bed-and-breakfast La Villa del Valle. Beneath some pine trees on one of the oldest wineries, Mogor-Badan, Michelin-starred chef Drew Deckman set up what is essentially a gourmet campsite (Deckman’s en el Mogor). And Plascencia opened Finca Altozano.
The Baja Moment
Locally caught dorado topped with beef bacon, La Querencia.
“The plan was to have a two-month sabbatical,” explains Deckman, who worked under legendary chefs Paul Bocuse and Jacques Maximin. “I started with 30 seats. Now I’ve got 85. The first year we stayed open two months. Last year it was six. This year we’re staying open year-round.”
While Deckman’s is statement minimalism, Finca is a pretty elaborate gourmet party compound. Three 15-foot fermentation tanks are topped with banquettes for private dining, or wine perches. Under a 70-foot oak tree, there’s a three-layer deck with lights for events. The plan is to build eight casitas on the property for people to stay a few days.
“Javier did Finca in a very Tijuana way—a smart, entrepreneurial way,” chuckles Téllez. On busy nights Finca will sell out, serving 500 guests. Yet Plascencia has reservations about growth, too.
“A lot of people aren’t coming to Vendimias this year,” he says of the Valle’s annual wine-harvest parties. “Tickets are now $150 to $200. People think it’s a little too snobby. At the big places, you have Kenny G playing and all this shit. The Vendimias should not be that.”
Deckman says when he opened, there were 23 restaurants in Valle de Guadalupe. Now he estimates there are 80-plus, not including taco stands. Plascencia’s estimate is closer to 50. Either way, it’s significant growth, which creates significant challenges.
“But there’s no more hotel rooms—just a lot more tables and chairs,” he says. “With the press the Valle’s getting, the wave is big and everyone’s riding it. I think it’s great. But some people show up with big eyes and then walk away a year later thinking, ‘Man, maybe I shouldn’t have sold my house in San Diego.’”
“We need the right growth, not no growth,” says Téllez.
“There’s a big discussion about how big the wine region could be with tourism—but I think the Valle should remain rural,” says D’Acosta, who cites last year’s meager 3.5 inches of rainfall (half the annual average). “We don’t have water for irrigation.”
I ask him about a quote T Magazine had attributed to him: “Good roads, bad tourists. Bad roads, good tourists.”
“It’s not that we don’t want good roads,” he clarifies. “But a filter helps get the right people here. When you have everything in your hands, you lose a bit of real perspective. In Acapulco and Cancún, tourists don’t care if it’s Mexico. People will come to the Valle because they like the people and we can show them the way we live—rather than becoming a server.”
The Baja Moment
Plascencia in the garden at Mogor Badan
Plascencia in the garden at Mogor Badan
One of my sources tells me the big wineries—L.A. Cetto and Domecq—are working on a gastro village that includes a signature restaurant, cheese shop, art center, and bike shop. Homes (ranchitos) will be sold with their own vineyards included for somewhere around $2 million. The management company is rumored to be Auberge Resorts, which has three properties in Napa (Calistoga Ranch, VieVage, Auberge du Soleil) and Esperanza in Cabo San Lucas. Auberge declined to comment.
Is that growth—luxury residences with a focus on food, wine, and nature—the right kind?
One Valle icon says yes. Another says no. A third refers to it as “the Temeculization” of the Valle. Such is the Valle right now. It stands at a divided path, and the future is breathing down its neck.
Our time in the Valle is, as advertised, magical. There’s no sense of danger. We are not kidnapped or mugged or murdered. Our faith in Baja is enervated, restored.
About five minutes from the Tecate border crossing, we’re pulled over by a police officer. He claims we didn’t come to a complete stop and we’ll have to go with him down to the station. We pay him $60 and he bids us a good day. We then spend nearly four hours in a long, sweltering crawl through the line of cars crossing into the U.S.
Filters, I think.
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