El Gordo: Gaslamp | San Diego Address

Haunted ghosts and euphoric tacos.

0 shot of vodka, we wandered into Gaslamp Quarter – the pulse of San Diego’s nightlife. Drams of mystic, bewitched from the Victoria era.

1 shot of vodka, sandwiched by enthused lesbians. Music pumping, neon lights flashing. Chatty men approached, affectionate couples melting into one another like ice in spirits.

2 shots of vodka soon followed. I felt nothing…but sheer joy. It seeped through the trench that covered my fatigued body – both had been lugged up and down California. And a baseball cap sporting my alma mater, though in Padres territory. Swaying shoulders, at peace with our beautiful quartet. Each of us haunted by the past, shadows boisterously roaming the streets of Gaslamp.

 

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3 shots of vodka, it all welded into a blur of deliciousness.

Somehow, we floated to El Gordo. A 40-year family business spreading tasty heritage of Tijuana in San Diego, Los Angeles and Las Vegas. Through aromatic tacos wrapped by freshly pressed corn tortillas, speedy preparation and flame-grilled meats.

I can neither remember how long the line was in the middle of the night, nor the rapid speed in which it moved. Though I do recall, heading inside the jovial establishment. Practicing Spanish with cooks and chefs. Hola! ¿Cómo estás?¿Estás haciendo esto a mano? Each waved, gesturing enthusiastic thumbs-ups. Bits of cilantro and corn flour tickled busy fingertips. Not a frown in sight.

1 bite of taco, gushes of guacamole and salsa made from scratch jolted a vodka daze into an awakened euphoria. One can’t possibly find tacos this good in Paris or Taiwan. If our Mexico trip was cancelled, this was one worthy – and wondrously juicy – alternative.

2 bites of taco, the Carne Asada worked faster than the vodka. Through accelerated lanes of bloodstreams. Perfectly cooked beef taken off heat, seconds before charring. Smoky fragrance without grilling scars. So informal. So incredibly masterful. Why can’t human hearts be wounded just the same? Rescued from burning flames right before unsalvageable damage.

3 bites of taco, the El Pastor marries savory and sweet in blissful union. Get it con todos. The partnership between warm spices and pineapple juice means that not one additional ingredient should be left behind. Sounds like food marriage, if only none carried haunted reminiscence.

Gaslamp. Home of spooky tours. San Diego’s Mardi Gras and St. Patrick’s fêtes. It seemed that an unforgettable evening started with shots of vodka and electric beats. Even if liquor washed away fragments before dawn, if the night ended with phenomenal bites of tacos, there remained something magical to remember by.