Cal-Mex is having a moment in New York. But how does he know?

When I'm in New York, my favorite thing to do is eat.

Pieces of roast pork, with skin as brittle and sweet as caramel and bathed in vinegar and garlic sauce at Dominican places in Washington Heights. Cheap, cheesy pizza slices in Midtown Manhattan. West African Buffets. Katz's Deli. Chopped cheese sandwiches bought at the winery. Who needs the Guggenheim when there are street vendors from almost every continent except Antarctica around Roosevelt Avenue in Jackson Heights?

Something I'm not looking for? Mexican food.

There are many wonderful places throughout the Big Apple, from great restaurants to shops specializing in the dishes of Puebla and Hidalgo, Mexican states that have sent immigrants to New York for decades. But when I'm in town, I'm hungry for cuisines that aren't as common in Southern California (Haitian, Russian, Uruguayan) or are simply better in the east (halal carts, Irish pubs, Nepalese dumplings). Plus, I live in Orange County, which has great Mexican food and is two hours north of the border and one hour south of Los Angeles. Going out to eat Mexican food in New York would be like swimming in the ocean when my parents' house already has a pool.

So my friends thought it was strange when I told them I was going to explore New York's Cal-Mex scene during a visit last month.

For roughly the last 40 years, Californians nostalgic for their home state's version of Mexican food (especially burritos, green and red chile, and taco trucks) have tried to replicate what they're missing in New York, with mediocre results. However, right now the metropolis is experiencing a Cal-Mex moment.

Birria de res (stewed beef) is on menus all over town after it really made its way to Southern California last decade. Chefs are eschewing factory-made corn and flour tortillas in favor of handmade ones, reflecting a nationwide trend we also started. New York, like Los Angeles, has become a de facto suburb for the hip Mexico City set, with culinary ideas flowing between the three cities.

What interested me most this time were the restaurants that not only wanted to prepare the Mexican food that Californians like, but also imitate the aesthetics of the restaurants that sell it. Are expat Californians so desperate for a home and New Yorkers so interested in the foodways of a state they otherwise dismiss as a cultural backwater?

It seems that the answer to both is Yeah.

The first place I visited was Super Burrito in the Williamsburg neighborhood of Brooklyn. Owner Eugene Cleghorn, a San Francisco native, opened the original Rockaway Beach location in Queens in 2020 with a friend from Frisco. They claimed they couldn't find a good Mission-style burrito: the foil-wrapped edible bricks made nationally famous by the Chipotle chain and which originated in San Francisco's historic Latin neighborhood.

I took the L train from Manhattan and found a Cal-Mex substitute the moment I got off at Bedford Avenue. There's an outpost of Dos Toros, a good burrito chain started by two Berkeley brothers in 2009, for the same reasons Cleghorn cited, that now has locations in New York and Washington, DC. A few blocks away is Border Burrito, whose awning advertises “California-style Mexican food” when the menu is more Tex-Mex: fajitas, nachos and something called Chicken Arizona.

Super Burrito is a block away and I was initially impressed by their attempt to evoke San Francisco. Their color scheme is orange and black, like the Giants. The laminate tables look like they came from a Mission District taqueria. A poster of the Golden Gate Bridge at night hangs on a wall. There's even a first aid poster showing Dodgers great Clayton Kershaw as the choking victim who needs help, because I guess you can't have San Francisco without a hit of weak sauce in Los Angeles.

A first aid sign depicting Dodgers pitcher Clayton Kershaw as a choking victim is part of the decor at the Super Burrito in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, which seeks to project a San Francisco vibe.

(Gustavo Arellano/Los Angeles Times)

However, the fantasy did not stick. The clientele was mostly hipsters, and there weren't many of them. A traditional Mission-style burrito shop allows diners to customize their order from a galaxy of ingredients beyond beans, rice and meat. At Super Burrito, sour cream, poblano peppers, and avocados were everything, and they were an additional cost. My al pastor burrito had as many pineapple chunks as an upside-down cake and was so greasy I could only stand half of it. Why does a restaurant that claims to represent the City by the Bay in the City That Never Sleeps offer San Diego's chip-stuffed burritos, New Mexico's grilled burritos, and Austin's queso?

In the end, Super Burrito was as San Francisco as Tommy Lasorda.

My next stop was Los Tacos No. 1 in Times Square. Friends from New York who know how good Cal-Mex is and have rolled their eyes at the wave of New York pretenders over the years have been enthusiastic about the chain, started by friends from Brawley and Tijuana who They missed the look of border taquerias. A line was hanging out the front door when I arrived around 3pm. Struts placed outside suggested it would only grow larger.

Los Tacos No. 1 did a good job simulating Tijuana-style taquerias. People leaned on the white tile counters while eating their tacos. A cooler filled with ice near the entrance contained soda bottles. Workers shouted above the din in various accents of Spanish. northern shout. The scant menu (four meats served as tacos, quesadillas, tostadas and mulitas) was painted on the wall.

But I didn't think about the border metropolis as I devoured delicious grilled chicken and carne asada tacos, wrapped in brown paper like a bouquet of flowers. I thought about “Harry Potter and the Cursed Child,” playing across 43rd Street at the Lyric Theatre. Los Tacos No. 1 was Broadway's version of Cal-Mex: nice and well-made, sure, but an overly elaborate production. Perfect for newbies, ultimately soulless for those of us who know better.

Grilled chicken and roast beef tacos at Los Tacos No. 1 in Times Square

(Gustavo Arellano/Los Angeles Times)

When I returned to California, I contacted my friend Steven Alvarez, with whom I had enjoyed a delicious and elegant Mexican dinner during my trip. He is an English professor at St. John's University and teaches “taco literacy,” the idea that diners can decipher Mexican cuisine by researching the stories behind each ingredient and the people who make it.

“A lot of people from California come here to visit or live, and California sets their expectations,” he jokingly texted at first. The Arizona native was more forgiving of Cal-Mex in New York than I was.

“People bring a sense of home when they come here, to make this a home, and making that belonging a reality through food is critical to comfort,” Alvarez said.

TRUE. But we in Southern California rightly ridicule New Yorkers who come to Los Angeles, call our corner stores “bodegas,” and declare that they can't find good bagels. It's ridiculous when Americans go to another part of the country and declare that the food there is not only beneath them but also worthy of replacement. And it's just sad when the locals buy the bull that the usurpers throw.

I guess it could have been worse in Gotham. New York City doesn't have In-N-Outs…yet.