The best 99-cent fish tacos you’ve never heard of.
Gas station cuisine is a sorry subject, and rightly so. The kind of trash they get away with serving is a testament to our nation’s obesity epidemic and the ignorant hypocrisy of the FDA. Self-serve items are more or less the same across the board, and always include substantial amounts of processed meat and cheese to stimulate the appetites of truckies and teenage stoners. Ironically enough, the once-infamous Slim Jim has become one of the healthier choices on the gas station menu. Go figure.
There’s always an exception to the rule, and that exception is El Pueblo Mexican Food in Encinitas, California. A rather pitiful taco shop – from a visual standpoint, at least – sags from the corner of a Valero gas station like a cancerous tumor. Or maybe a ripe pimple, given the way it pulses every few minutes with each wave of new customers. There’s way too many tables outside for a restaurant this small. But at 3:15 on a Saturday afternoon, all chairs are accounted for and the line is out the door.
I came to El Pueblo for the tacos de pescado, whose reputation precedes them in the Encinitas surf community. Because in a fast-casual market already flooded with 99-cent “baja style” fish tacos, it takes more than a sleazy Taco Tuesday marketing campaign to woo the hungry masses. With that said, the El Pueblo genus stands out from the crowd on two accounts. The first is Supply: while most locations thrive on weekly specials (see: Taco Tuesday), El Pueblo keeps a consistent 24-hour, 7-days-a-week offer for their loyal customers. The second is Quality: they don’t skimp on the fish here. Each taco requires two thick, handmade corn tortillas to support its heavenly girth.
While waiting in line to place my order, I conduct a quick mental survey of the establishment. Salsa bar? Check. Fresh horchata? Check. Mexicans? Check. Bonus points for the dude in the corner chopping tomatoes, keeping time with the Mariachi soundtrack while staring thoughtfully into the wall. Double points when I realize he’s making all the food by himself.
It doesn’t take long for Marcos (I’m not generalizing with names here; it’s what the cashier calls him) to complete my order of two fish tacos. He delivers the food to my table, grumbles something in broken English, and shuffles back to his meditation corner to finish chopping those tomatoes. Now I’m ready to conduct my second mental checklist. Two fish tacos? Check. Balanced ingredients (fish-cabbage-salsa-ratio)? Check. Ceremonial lime wedge? Check.
A good fish taco requires all 5 senses to participate in the judging process. I’ve been staring at mine for about 30 seconds now, so that takes care of the first one. Let’s move on to Smell. These particular tacos have a surprisingly complex bouquet, comparable to a glass of Argentinean Malbec circa 2008. At first whiff I’m overwhelmed by the earthy scent of the corn tortillas – this is a sign of freshness. Then comes the ghost of the deep fryer, a rich and buttery aroma that complements the brininess of the fish. Last but not least is cilantro. A distinct and grassy herb that screams Mexican cuisine and sends happy thoughts flying through my nasal passages. Needless to say, Smell passes the test.
Taste and Touch are the climax of every great meal, but I’m starting to lose myself before I can even get there. So I waste no time ripping into the first taco, savoring the venerated crunch of gluttony (Touch) and the familiar, sweet flavor of Pacific Ocean (Taste). The fish, like the tortilla, is baby soft and melts on my tongue between strips of flossy cabbage. A tangy orange mystery sauce complements the mild flavor of the fish and the roasted tomatillo salsa with which I’ve drowned it. Sensory overload has become inevitable.
Two tacos at El Pueblo was just enough to satiate my post-surf appetite. But the quality of said tacos (and the price tag) exceeded my expectations by at least a mile. I’ll be back to annoy Marcos very soon, if not later this evening.
OVERALL RATING: B+
Pros: Great fish tacos for a great price. Blows Rubio’s out of the water (no pun intended).
Cons: Limited seating. If you’re a salsa whore, they’ll try to charge you 75 cents.
RESTAURANT INFO:
Price: $ (1-5)
Address: 820 Birmingham Dr, Cardiff-by-the-Sea, CA 92007
Phone: (760) 230-1771
Hours: All 24 of them
Website: Nope
