Dos Brasos

Dos Brasos is a cool place. It’s changed its name and ownership a few times over the years, but it’s always been good and reliably so.

Dos brasos means “two arms,” which is a weird name, but so is Crawford: “Te espero con dos brasos abrieltos.”

When the World Beat Center was down the street, it was convenient to stop by before or after and hang with fellow attendees. I saw a lot of good shows there, so thanks Makeda Dread and all else for that place. It was cool while it lasted down by the railroad tracks.

Dos Brasos has chips and salsa for free, both of which are tasty, although the chips are on the greasy side. But only a jerk would complain about that. They’re free, jerk.

It’s a good place to people watch, too. Transients like it. So do cops, limo drivers, Mission Hills soccer moms, construction workers, and many other walks of life. It’s like that bar in Star Wars with all the weird aliens and the band. Most of the seating is outside under a canopy with a view of the freeway and in the distance is the airpot and Point Loma. It’s in the middle of everything, yet encapsulated and nowhere. It’s ambiance is the kind you can’t buy or cultivate. Behind it is a big-ass hill like a Wayne Thiebaud painting. There is a big wall made of cobblestones full of Roman arches just above you.

I’ve never had a bad burrito here, so I’d recommend everything—I mean, anything.

Sorry, don’t know the address on this one. It’s on San Diego Ave, I think, up the hill from Amvets and across the street from that nautical antiques store you can see from the 5. There’s a Robbins Bros across the street. Do you know Geoff’s grandma, Estella? It’s right down from her place and she usually walks her dogs in front of it in the afternoons, Tuesday and Thursdays. See, I knew you knew it.