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The Food Box brings burgers from across the border
Not much more flavor could possibly fit between buns
The "Spurgeon Infit" burger: angus brisket patty topped by guacamole, tomato, spinach, chipotle and sriracha mayos, grilled panela cheese, and chicharrones in salsa verde.
“Hamburguesas de verdad,” reads the green neon sign behind the counter of The Food Box: “real hamburgers.” Not a lot of American restaurants would make so bold a declaration in Spanish, but here in San Diego, enough of us have made a habit of cheap taco shop burgers to embrace such verdad. Perhaps that contributed to the Food Box opened here.
The brand started out in Monterrey, Mexico, back in 2013. As founder Juan Ángel Martinez Ochoa explained, during his 2021 appearance on the venture capital reality game show Shark Tank Mexico, he sold his car to launch the concept as a delivery-only “cocina secreta,” or what we might call a ghost kitchen. In eight years, he’d gone from selling burgers out of his mom’s house, to 17 real world locations between Monterrey and Mexico City.
A neon sign speaks the "verdad"
The number one goal, he told his potential celebrity investors, was to serve “hamburguesas mas espectaculares,” the most spectacular hamburgers anyone has tasted in their life. By the end of the episode, he did not get the five million pesos he’d been seeking. Nevertheless, he has in the meantime managed to expand business into the U.S., specifically to Pacific Beach.
I didn’t go in expecting taco shop burgers, and I didn’t find any. These are bigger, and way more expensive, starting at a price tag of $15, French fries not included. Even for that money, though, I will attest that these burgers do live up to Martinez’ hype. They truly are espectacular.
A Monterrey, Mexico business lands in Pacific Beach.
The excellence begins with misshapen, hand-formed patties of naturally raised angus brisket. But the joy here really takes off with creative use of ingredients, and not only cherrypicking traditional Mexican flavors to spice things up. For every burger topped with the likes of Chihuahua cheese, chipotle mayo, or arbol chili you’ll also see sriracha, soy and ginger, and fried shallots. Considering there are only six burger variations, you’d be right to assume each one gets packed with flavor.
And a couple of those variations are nearly the same burger. For reasons I haven’t yet divined, most of the sandwiches at Food Box are named for historical religious figures. “The King James” patties are marinated in ginger, soy, honey, and serrano chili, topped with apple slices, bacon, those crispy shallots, spinach, two types of cheese, chipotle mayo, and homemade cherry tomato ketchup with arbol chili ($18). Another burger is named for John Calvin, while one of three very sloppy fried chicken sandwiches makes an obscure reference to George Whitefield, an 18th century Anglican cofounder of Methodism.
A breaded chicken sandwich topped with buffalo sauce and blue cheese.
More inscrutable still: two burgers are named for Charles Spurgeon, a British Baptist preacher of the 19th century. The standard “Spurgeon” ($16) features both chipotle and sriracha mayo, guacamole, spinach, tomato, grilled panela cheese, and bacon. But I had to go for the “Spurgeon infit,” which replaces the bacon with chicharrones softened by a salsa verde from a butcher shop in Monterrey.
By far, it’s the best use of Mexican ingredients I’ve yet to witness on a burger. Normally, the “MacArthur” spicy chicken sandwich with buffalo sauce, blue cheese, and bacon ($14) might have been the best part of my meal, but it took a clear back seat to the burger topped with pork rinds. An hamburguesa verdad, for real.
Here's something you might be interested in.
The Food Box brings burgers from across the border
Not much more flavor could possibly fit between buns
The Food Box brings burgers from across the border
Not much more flavor could possibly fit between buns
The "Spurgeon Infit" burger: angus brisket patty topped by guacamole, tomato, spinach, chipotle and sriracha mayos, grilled panela cheese, and chicharrones in salsa verde.
“Hamburguesas de verdad,” reads the green neon sign behind the counter of The Food Box: “real hamburgers.” Not a lot of American restaurants would make so bold a declaration in Spanish, but here in San Diego, enough of us have made a habit of cheap taco shop burgers to embrace such verdad. Perhaps that contributed to the Food Box opened here.
The brand started out in Monterrey, Mexico, back in 2013. As founder Juan Ángel Martinez Ochoa explained, during his 2021 appearance on the venture capital reality game show Shark Tank Mexico, he sold his car to launch the concept as a delivery-only “cocina secreta,” or what we might call a ghost kitchen. In eight years, he’d gone from selling burgers out of his mom’s house, to 17 real world locations between Monterrey and Mexico City.
A neon sign speaks the "verdad"
The number one goal, he told his potential celebrity investors, was to serve “hamburguesas mas espectaculares,” the most spectacular hamburgers anyone has tasted in their life. By the end of the episode, he did not get the five million pesos he’d been seeking. Nevertheless, he has in the meantime managed to expand business into the U.S., specifically to Pacific Beach.
I didn’t go in expecting taco shop burgers, and I didn’t find any. These are bigger, and way more expensive, starting at a price tag of $15, French fries not included. Even for that money, though, I will attest that these burgers do live up to Martinez’ hype. They truly are espectacular.
A Monterrey, Mexico business lands in Pacific Beach.
The excellence begins with misshapen, hand-formed patties of naturally raised angus brisket. But the joy here really takes off with creative use of ingredients, and not only cherrypicking traditional Mexican flavors to spice things up. For every burger topped with the likes of Chihuahua cheese, chipotle mayo, or arbol chili you’ll also see sriracha, soy and ginger, and fried shallots. Considering there are only six burger variations, you’d be right to assume each one gets packed with flavor.
And a couple of those variations are nearly the same burger. For reasons I haven’t yet divined, most of the sandwiches at Food Box are named for historical religious figures. “The King James” patties are marinated in ginger, soy, honey, and serrano chili, topped with apple slices, bacon, those crispy shallots, spinach, two types of cheese, chipotle mayo, and homemade cherry tomato ketchup with arbol chili ($18). Another burger is named for John Calvin, while one of three very sloppy fried chicken sandwiches makes an obscure reference to George Whitefield, an 18th century Anglican cofounder of Methodism.
A breaded chicken sandwich topped with buffalo sauce and blue cheese.
More inscrutable still: two burgers are named for Charles Spurgeon, a British Baptist preacher of the 19th century. The standard “Spurgeon” ($16) features both chipotle and sriracha mayo, guacamole, spinach, tomato, grilled panela cheese, and bacon. But I had to go for the “Spurgeon infit,” which replaces the bacon with chicharrones softened by a salsa verde from a butcher shop in Monterrey.
By far, it’s the best use of Mexican ingredients I’ve yet to witness on a burger. Normally, the “MacArthur” spicy chicken sandwich with buffalo sauce, blue cheese, and bacon ($14) might have been the best part of my meal, but it took a clear back seat to the burger topped with pork rinds. An hamburguesa verdad, for real.
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