Don Bravo

While Lupi commits to Roman technique and Wayfarer engineers pastry at 3 a.m., Don Bravo operates in a different lane entirely: the kind of affordable Mexican spot that survives in La Jolla only because it ignores La Jolla pricing logic. The **fish tacos** are the anchor here—lightly battered, served with cabbage and salsa that people drive back for on repeat San Diego trips. The **habanero salsa** has actual heat, not the cautious version most coastal spots serve to tourists.

The **carne asada burrito** earns consistent nods for proper char and seasoning, though the **mahi-mahi burrito** divides opinion—some find it underseasoned, others appreciate the simplicity. The **chili relleno burrito** stuffs the poblano filling into tortilla form, a move that works better than it sounds. **Carnitas tacos** run tender and properly fatty, the kind of straightforward execution that doesn't need garnish innovation.

This is a basic-space operation—plastic chairs, fluorescent lighting, the aesthetic appeal of a tax office. There's a $1 credit card fee that annoys people on principle, and portions skew modest for the price, which in San Diego's taco landscape means you're paying $12-15 for a plate instead of $9. But it's still inexpensive by Bird Rock standards, where most meals require financial planning.

The spot functions as a neighborhood go-to for people who want reliable Mexican food without driving inland or tolerating beachfront wait times. Outdoor seating exists, it's kid-friendly and dog-tolerant, and the habanero salsa is legitimately good. Don Bravo isn't trying to reinvent tacos—it's just serving them correctly at a price point that hasn't fully succumbed to the zip code.