Colima's Mexican Food

While Pete's does New England comfort and Chris' Ono Grinds commits to Hawaiian plates, Colima's doesn't pivot or theme—it just executes the San Diego taco shop formula at massive scale, with the kind of consistency that keeps the counter packed past midnight. This is the spot that feeds the post-Observatory crowd, the closing shifts from 30th Street, the vinyl-diggers who realize at 11 p.m. they haven't eaten since noon.

The lengua tacos are the move if you want proof this isn't just another California burrito factory. Tender, properly seasoned, no gimmicks—beef tongue done the way it should be, not dressed up for timid palates. The surf-and-turf burrito is the spectacle: shrimp, carne asada, and enough mass to justify splitting it or planning tomorrow's lunch simultaneously. Taco Tuesday deals pull the neighborhood regulars, but the real test is the chicken soup—rich, restorative, the kind of thing that tastes like someone's grandma made too much and decided to share.

Portions here aren't Instagram-friendly—they're doggy-bag inevitable. The chimichanga comes out so dense you'll wonder if they misunderstood the order. Counter service keeps things moving fast, even when the line stretches, and the staff hauls trays to tables without fuss. No pretense, no craft-beer-pairing suggestions, no locally-sourced-tortilla backstory. Just a working taco shop that knows its role: fill you up, don't screw it up, stay open when everyone else has locked the doors.

Parking on University is the usual North Park gamble—circle or walk a few blocks. Late-night hours make this the default when other options have shuttered. The Caesar burrito shows up in enough reviews to merit ordering blind. Cash and card both work, though the line moves faster if you know your order before you reach the counter.