We had promised Shelley tacos. In fact, I think that’s the main reason she agreed to come to Mexico. With 5 stars from over 200 reviews on Yelp, Tacos El Yacqui in Rosarito had a big build up… no pressure. Huge flanks of carne asada were sizzling on a wood fired grill as we waited in line, a teaser for the senses.
As we approached the counter, the rather over enthusiastic chef wielded his cleaver and chopped the meat with gusto, unfortunately splattering Shelley with meat juice in the process. Luckily, the tacos more than made up for the spotted dalmatian look – these were Mexican tacos at their best! The homemade flour tortillas were freshly baked and soft, the meat oh so succulent, tasty and well seasoned, and the salsa oozing with chili heat.
One of the highlights from this trip was the airbnb place Darren had booked near Puerto Nuevo. Backing onto the cliff top with panoramic ocean views, we arrived with perfect pre-sunset timing to make the most of it. In addition to the back garden area, there was a separate sunken concrete patio built into the sea wall.
After the long car journey (technically ‘truck’ journey), we relaxed with sundowner drinks on the patio, enjoying the cool sea breeze and the rhythmic sounds of the waves crashing down below.
Modeling the new jackets we just bought at a retail outlet along the way – turned out to be quite a timely purchase!
This was followed by a stroll along the seashore (after a rather hairy descent to the beach), the waves glistening in the twilight. As we glanced back up to our private sea wall patio from the beach, we were indeed reminded that we were in Mexico – the damn thing was held up by car tyres!
The rather hairy descent to the beach!
Safe as houses….
One of the not-so-highlights from the trip were the margaritas. I know, right, you come south of the border and expect the tacos and tequila to blow your mind. Something to do with too much acidic lime and not enough tequila I think.
Drinks were also somewhat of a challenge at the seafood restaurant we went to in Puerto Nuevo. This place is known as Lobster Village and every single restaurant specializes in lobster. Not daring to risk another margarita (although Darren was braver than Shelley and I), we instead opted for what we thought would be the obvious choice to accompany lobster: white wine.
After what seemed like an eternity as they no doubt scoured the cupboards and turned the place upside down, the waiter awkwardly admitted they didn’t actually have any white wine. So we opted for rose instead, got into the Mexican mood with the mariachi band, and rounded off the night with tequila chasers. When in Rome/when in Mexico and all that…
