By Frank Sabatini Jr. | Restaurant Review
Thursdays in the former San Diego Tribune newsroom were a big deal. It was the day we got paid and when a designated staffer would fetch bags of food from El Indio Mexican Restaurant, sparing many of us nondescript lunches from the cafeteria.
That was in the early 1990s. Today, the taquitos, mordiditas and machaca that dribbled onto our desks remain a mainstay at what is considered to be one of San Diego’s oldest taco shops.
Founded in 1940, the family-owned eatery is credited with introducing the now-famous taquito, which translates to “little taco.” Unlike flautas made with flour tortillas, these long, tubular snacks encase strands of meat or potatoes with airy corn tortillas that bounce off a visible conveyor belt at 8 a.m. daily. A trio of the tortillas spritzed with melted butter still sells for under a dollar.
Also wildly popular are mordiditas. At the newspaper we used to refer jokingly to them as “yesterday’s taquitos covered in Cheez Whiz,” but without complaint as we shoveled them down with wild abandon. The dish involves taquitos cut into bite-size pieces, filled with beef, chicken or potato, and covered in electric-yellow cheese sauce and jalapeno rings. Better than nachos and best with beef, they’re as sinful as ever.
Only at El Indio will you find quesadillas forged into the shape of weighty burritos. The version with shredded beef and guacamole is still my favorite, featuring large rolled-up flour tortillas packing enough sweaty cheddar to stain your shirt with a few grease drippings if you’re not careful.
In a recent visit with a long-time fan of El Indio’s chili relleno, he discovered that it pays to ask for it “well done.” Otherwise, he noted, the cheese inside the egg-battered Anaheim pepper isn’t fully melted, per the last several times he ordered it.
Another in our group opted for a pair of fish tacos on a combination plate that included rice and beans. The tacos oblige with standard battered cod filets festooned in crispy cabbage and decent tartar sauce that is stained pink from juicy chopped tomatoes. Their standout component, however, is the fresh corn tortillas.
Garlic, diced peppers and perhaps a touch of cumin are the subtle accents in machaca, the moist slow-cooked beef of Northern Mexico that is typically dried with chilies before re-hydration. In one of El Indio’s top-selling breakfast burritos, it’s mixed with scrambled eggs and turns up less ropey and a little saltier than traditional shredded beef.
Fans of refried beans will either celebrate or frown over the recipe, which no longer uses traditional pork fat. In fact, according to an employee, the frijoles don’t contain any oil, just chili pepper and a little garlic. Indeed, the beans taste pure and clean, although for this non-vegan palate they sing best with cheese melted into them.
El Indio’s tortilla chips are distinguished by their unusual thickness and paprika dustings. They are a signature commodity that has reportedly been shipped to Washington politicians and overseas military personnel throughout the years, along with the eatery’s tomato-y salsa. Both items, available in packaged form, greet you along the order line, which concludes at a deli case filled with house-made masa and other items that can be cooked or heated at home.
Most of the dishes at El Indio, which also includes carnitas, fajitas, tamales and carne asada, are gently spiced sans the fiery peppers you encounter at other taco shops. Dine-in seating is available in the adjoining space that was once occupied by a neighborhood store. When that fills up, customers can tote their food and ruby-red agua frescas to several tiled tables across the street. Given the daily bustle, El Indio is a gastronomic landmark that many San Diegans can’t live without.
El Indio Mexican Restaurant
3695 India St. (Mission Hills)
619-299-0333
Prices: A la carte items, 87 cents to $7.79; combination plates, $6.35 to $12.99
