Rigoberto’s

You would be forgiven for having thought that the landscape of future San Diego taco shops would be red and yellow striped. It seemed a few years back that the red- and yellow-striped drive-throughs—Roberto’s, Alberto’s, myriad Other-berto’s—were on the march. But if they were they didn’t get far.

I was reminded of this a week before Christmas as a red and yellow block building with arched windows and a red and yellow menu was suddenly painted stark white. Then the sign came down. The menus fell and then it was as though this place was never there but always what it now is, a white and red Rigoberto’s, very appropriate for Christmastime when it opened.

I gotta say, I don’t remember the name of the place that preceded it. It was just another red- and yellow-striped drive-through and the food was pretty good—the sort of place we take for granted here in San Diego. And now it’s gone.

To open a restaurant in the current business climate required chutzpah (and a small business loan, which may be harder to come by these days). This alone is good reason to try Rigoberto’s. But I’m also making amends for having forgotten what preceded this, that good old red and yellow monstrosity that in its garishness became anonymous to me.

Consistency, Emerson said, is the hobgoblin of small minds. Well, inconsistency is the hobgoblin of mediocre taco shops. I’ve tried only a couple of burritos here. But if Rigoberto’s can pull this level of quality off consistently, they will last longer than those who came before them.

The burritos of Rigoberto’s—first, they were generous. Second, the tortillas have been properly toasted. Then the ingredients were solid. I had carne asada: good salty meat in a bath of runny green guacamole. I had a veggie: rice, beans, guacamole, cheese, etc., and all of it good.

But the deal breaker was the hot sauce—top notch. As Dr Burrito says, a good burrito should end with a phlegmy cough and this salsa certainly induced that. Then a contented sigh. The world changes and yet remains unchanged.

And they offer spicy carrots, green onions, and radishes with a purchase and even though this is North Park—across from Tobacco Rhoda’s no less—these offerings didn’t look slobbered on and/or dusty. Radishes were down-right crunchy, really.

So if you’re cruising North Park and hunger itches your gut, you are in luck. Drive on through the Christmas-colored bunker or step through its glassy threshold. I’ll be glad you did. I wish these bold efficient mustached men success, chutzpah’s sometimes reward.