To bone or not to bone. That remains the question at Tuétano Taqueria, San Diego's most famous yet precarious taco shop.
Famous, thanks largely to James Beard-award winning taco writer Bill Esparza singing its praises in Food & Wine Magazine back in 2019 (though hat tip to my colleague Chad Deal for kicking off the hype in the Reader's spring 2018 taco issue).
Precarious because, despite earning a spot in Michelin's inaugural 2021 California guide, Tuétano Taqueria has closed up shop twice in the last three years, only to eventually reappear in a completely different part of town. Honestly, I've known food trucks that have stayed put longer.
That Tuétano got national attention in the first place is remarkable, because it started out in a small San Ysidro storefront on the wrong side of the freeway from border-crossing foot traffic. Owner and chef Priscilla Curiel shut that location down in 2021 and moved the operation to anchor a food co-op in Old Town. But that more central spot didn't last any longer, closing last year, and leaving San Diego once again without its namesake tuétano: the roasted bone marrow offered as an add-on to Curiel's signature birria tacos.
But now the birria is back—and marrow too—this time with a Third Avenue storefront slinging the stewed beef in the thick of downtown Chula Vista. And it’s not alone. Tuétano opened immediately next door to Curiel's other, less notorious birria brand: Mujer Divina.
Somewhere in the midst of all that early Tuétano success, Curiel launched Mujer Divina in National City, as a woman-themed burrito and coffee shop. Which is less surprising a concept when you consider that birria is traditionally eaten for breakfast, but I still find it baffling that a pink-hued coffee and burrito business has been more stable than that taco shop GQ magazine named one of The Best New Restaurants In America in 2020.
Nevertheless, Mujer Divina briefly held two locations before its National City shop closed this summer, and its flowery counter shop on Third has been rolling right along on the strength of cafe de olla, flavored lattes, and a simple burrito menu built chiefly on flour tortillas wrapping up that same signature birria.
Either way, the arrival of Tuétano begs the question: is one birria recipe enough to support two side by side businesses?
Because, despite the bone marrow propelling Tuétano's media coverage, Curiel's birria recipe is what makes this business go. You can get it on a quesadilla ($10), a torta ($14), or as a taco ($5-$5.75). As a taco, choices include quesabirria (with melted cheese), and having it made on a handmade corn tortilla for a few cents more. Adding the marrow (served with a stick to push it out of the bone) can make it tastier, in the way beef fat makes everything tastier. But the price of marrow has risen over the years, and it's now $7, which is (checks notes) more expensive than the taco itself.
More to the point: the tuétano is unnecessary. This birria's good enough to stand on its own. Quite possibly good enough to see both businesses flourish. Especially if hungry souls take a bite of the birria torta. Built on a telera roll baked in-house and toasted on the griddle, with smashed avocado, melted Oaxaca cheese, and a generously thick serving of beef, this glorious beast of a sandwich reminds me what we collectively miss whenever Tuétano closes shop.
Frankly, Curiel's hasn't always been the savviest restaurateur: service at her restaurants has historically been uneven—which I've witnessed in person, and in a parade of churlish online reviews—and landlord disputes would seem to follow her around the county. But I hope I can ever make one thing in life as good as her birria. No bones about it.
To bone or not to bone. That remains the question at Tuétano Taqueria, San Diego's most famous yet precarious taco shop.
Famous, thanks largely to James Beard-award winning taco writer Bill Esparza singing its praises in Food & Wine Magazine back in 2019 (though hat tip to my colleague Chad Deal for kicking off the hype in the Reader's spring 2018 taco issue).
Precarious because, despite earning a spot in Michelin's inaugural 2021 California guide, Tuétano Taqueria has closed up shop twice in the last three years, only to eventually reappear in a completely different part of town. Honestly, I've known food trucks that have stayed put longer.
That Tuétano got national attention in the first place is remarkable, because it started out in a small San Ysidro storefront on the wrong side of the freeway from border-crossing foot traffic. Owner and chef Priscilla Curiel shut that location down in 2021 and moved the operation to anchor a food co-op in Old Town. But that more central spot didn't last any longer, closing last year, and leaving San Diego once again without its namesake tuétano: the roasted bone marrow offered as an add-on to Curiel's signature birria tacos.
But now the birria is back—and marrow too—this time with a Third Avenue storefront slinging the stewed beef in the thick of downtown Chula Vista. And it’s not alone. Tuétano opened immediately next door to Curiel's other, less notorious birria brand: Mujer Divina.
Somewhere in the midst of all that early Tuétano success, Curiel launched Mujer Divina in National City, as a woman-themed burrito and coffee shop. Which is less surprising a concept when you consider that birria is traditionally eaten for breakfast, but I still find it baffling that a pink-hued coffee and burrito business has been more stable than that taco shop GQ magazine named one of The Best New Restaurants In America in 2020.
Nevertheless, Mujer Divina briefly held two locations before its National City shop closed this summer, and its flowery counter shop on Third has been rolling right along on the strength of cafe de olla, flavored lattes, and a simple burrito menu built chiefly on flour tortillas wrapping up that same signature birria.
Either way, the arrival of Tuétano begs the question: is one birria recipe enough to support two side by side businesses?
Because, despite the bone marrow propelling Tuétano's media coverage, Curiel's birria recipe is what makes this business go. You can get it on a quesadilla ($10), a torta ($14), or as a taco ($5-$5.75). As a taco, choices include quesabirria (with melted cheese), and having it made on a handmade corn tortilla for a few cents more. Adding the marrow (served with a stick to push it out of the bone) can make it tastier, in the way beef fat makes everything tastier. But the price of marrow has risen over the years, and it's now $7, which is (checks notes) more expensive than the taco itself.
More to the point: the tuétano is unnecessary. This birria's good enough to stand on its own. Quite possibly good enough to see both businesses flourish. Especially if hungry souls take a bite of the birria torta. Built on a telera roll baked in-house and toasted on the griddle, with smashed avocado, melted Oaxaca cheese, and a generously thick serving of beef, this glorious beast of a sandwich reminds me what we collectively miss whenever Tuétano closes shop.
Frankly, Curiel's hasn't always been the savviest restaurateur: service at her restaurants has historically been uneven—which I've witnessed in person, and in a parade of churlish online reviews—and landlord disputes would seem to follow her around the county. But I hope I can ever make one thing in life as good as her birria. No bones about it.