I used to think a marble slab and a prime cut were the peak of dinner. But then a burrito the size of a boogie board bulldozed that belief like a Fast and Furious chase scene through my appetite.
This whole journey zigzagged across California, from Mission District murals to sun-faded San Diego storefronts.
The kind of places where the salsa bar tells better stories than white tablecloths ever could. I chased carne asada smoke, listened for the squish of fresh tortillas, and let guacamole drip down my wrist like a badge of honor…