Over The Border pop-up spreads the Tijuana taco gospel | Review

I got there a half-hour early, sliding into a parking spot perhaps five or six down from where Samuel Aguilar and his crew had set up.

They took up two spaces, cars flanking them on either side, with a grill, a couple of tables like the ones most of you have in your garages right now and a trompo, on which a hefty cone of al pastor gently spun.

Aguilar, 24, is the owner and founder of Over The Border Taqueria, which does three or four popups a month around Orlando. He’s also the pastorero.

He boils the chilis, then blends them with the seasonings where the pork will marinate for at least three or four hours, usually longer, before building the trompo from bottom to top. This beautiful fire-kissed meat, orange-red with the stain of the nutty achiote, will sell out in four hours, along with the asada and chorizo he generously stuffs into the Tijuana-style tacos.

It’s a regional delight that’s prevalent in Aguilar’s native San Diego. Here, not so much.

Which is why you might want to show up a half-hour early, too.

I lingered perhaps 10 minutes before ambling over to their tiny block party of a setup, and there were already 15-20 people in front of me, waiting for the figurative dinner bell at 6 p.m. It’ll go like this until sellout, usually around 9:30-10. The folks who arrive after me will wait longer.

Best Tacos: 2023 Orlando Sentinel Foodie Awards

“A lot of my customers are from Southern California, and if you’re from there, you know this style of taco,” he says. “It’s great when they see me on social media or hear about me from a friend. The Californians show up and tell me the food is good, that it reminds them of home. If I can get it close to or identical to what they grew up on, I know I’m doing a good job.”

The trompo and grill — the fire — is one of the things that sets these beauties apart, says Aguilar.

“The asada is not done on a griddle,” he explains. It needs to be wood or charcoal to be a Tijuana-style taco. It’s even better if you use both. It’s part of what makes it so attractive to customers. Not just the people who miss having them, but people who don’t even know what they are.”

When Over The Border shows up at breweries like Rockpit or Hourglass, people from the surrounding neighborhoods crawl out of the woodwork.

“They smell the food,” he chuckles. “The charcoal does a lot of work for you.”

The other mark of Tijuana-tacos is the guac.

“It’s funny, in Northern Mexico, we’re really big on guacamole and put a lot of it on our food,” he notes. “If you go to a place in Tijuana and you get it with everything, it’s always onions, cilantro, hot sauce and guac.”

A great glop of it, mostly smooth and housemade, along with a zingy arbol chili-based hot sauce, bright with tomato and tomatillo, a nice hit of heat that mellows in a second or three, melding with the smoke and the fat and the nice chew of a lightly oiled tortilla (Aguilar gets his fresh from Tortilleria Progreso on Colonial).

Along with the tacos ($4.50-4.75 apiece), Over The Border serves quesadillas ($10) and mulitas ($6), which is the love child of the other two, a melty, two-tortilla version of the tacos, this one with cheese.

We ate most of our haul while standing in the narrow space between our cars, savoring the flavors and textures, marveling as the line continued to grow. It’s really just a volume thing. There are only a few minutes, generally speaking, between ordering and eating. It’s the line to get over the border that takes the longest.

“That’s really where the food takes you,” says Aguilar, whose father crossed it in the other direction from Tijuana to San Diego, making a life in Los Angeles before settling closer to home in San Diego, where his mom is from. Three grandparents, too, are from Mexico. One from Texas.

“But not even Texas can top California for Mexican food,” he opines. “And Florida is like five years behind them both.”

He’s happy to be making inroads, not merely with other transplants, either.

“One of the things I love about Florida is that there’s such a huge Latino community. There’s not as many Mexicans, but there are people from Venezuela, Colombia, Peru, Puerto Rico, Cuba and so on, and in their hometowns, in their countries, they also make food over charcoal. They come here and tell me this feels a little like home, too.”

Aguilar’s the first in his family to run a food business, which, as of yet, is part-time. His crew consists of customers who became friends. His wife, a Florida native, works hard in the background, as well. Right now, Over The Border’s a part-time gig, but he’s hoping to make it full-time before the year’s out. He’s looking into a truck, working with potential investors, and trying tacos around town, too, citing Antojitos Locos and Hunger Street as two he particularly enjoys — for the food and the knowledge their proprietors have been happy to share.

“Orlando has great camaraderie in the food scene,” he says, “It’s better than San Diego, probably because there’s less competition. Over there, the taco spots are three minutes apart.”

It probably keeps the lines down, but customers seem content to wait, chat, chill and eventually — chomp.

If you go

Over The Border Taqueria: You’ll find OTB all over the metro — East End Market and GB’s Bottle Shop are nice options (seating!), but apartment complexes aren’t uncommon. Look for them on Feb. 16 at Onyx Winter Park Apartments (100 Reflections Circle in Casselberry). instagram.com/overthebordertaqueria; facebook.com/profile.php?id=100042692393532

Find me on Facebook, TikTok, Twitter or Instagram @amydroo or on the OSFoodie Instagram account @orlando.foodie. Email: amthompson@orlandosentinel.com, For more foodie fun, join the Let’s Eat, Orlando Facebook group.