Driving South on Interstate 19 makes for a subtle blurring of the geopolitical border between the USA and Mexico. It probably hits you first at some subconscious level. Perhaps you don't immediately notice that the familiar green road signs are in metric units. The fact that the license plates on neighboring vehicles are increasingly from Sonora may also escape your conscious thought. Even as you park your car and walk towards the border all the familiar touchstones are there. Burger King, Baskin-Robbins, and Mc Donald's are all in the mix. Only when you turn right onto Grand Street does it hit you; "Am I still in the United States?" Little tiendas selling everything from school uniforms to wedding dresses line the street and the nostrils are assailed with the smells of honest food. The imposing US Customs building looms large on your left as you keep walking, crossing into Mexico proper.
Oh, did Yelp not tell you? La Roca El Balcon is in Nogales, Mexico. That's understandable, because it seems nobody knows where this place is, not even the vaunted Google Maps. Were it not for the somewhat less vague directions on the website, this place would be pure word-of-mouth. I learned of it because it is a popular destination among Tucson residents. These residents also followed their recommendation with the same advice; "Be careful. There's a drug war going on, but we never have any problems."
Join me, will you? Let us have a few beers...a few laughs...
After crossing the border we hung a left, moving East, and dashed across the 8 lanes of border traffic (don't fret, 'cuz it moves at a snail's pace). After crossing some railroad tracks we clambered through a construction area. Our efforts were rewarded with a veritable Berlin Wall of whorehouses, thinly veiled as men's clubs. Although it was mid-afternoon on a weekday, the hawkers outside of the clubs were surprisingly energetic, whistling and clucking at us. A few were so bold as to ask my girlfriend and myself if we wanted to come in and relax with a cold beer. None, however, proved so bold as the local lovely who approached us offering companionship. This was a scene straight out of Currier and Ives, made all the more so with whom appeared to be her mother sitting on a nearby doorstep...holding a baby...
La Roca El Balcon is on Calle Elias. (Not to be confused with Calle Plutarco Elias... You'll see.) This street is basically a largish alley which serves as the backdoor and loading zones for the aforementioned whorehouses. So if ever these establishments have to deal with an undesirable customer (what are the odds?) they will be thrown in your path. La Roca El Balcon is located on the East side at the southern end of the street, the courtyard entrance covered in ivy and framed by Magnolias. What!?! Where did this come from? This is...beautiful! The sound of the bubbling fountain was like the hands of a masseuse on my brain. Old but well maintained, the restaurant is built into the side of a solid rock hillside. The temperature dropped 20 degrees as we walked in. The atmosphere was dimmed, but not dark, just pleasant after our eventful stroll in the heat.
We were seated immediately at a booth next to a window. Drink orders were taken promptly, and we each indulged in a single Margarita. It was simple and well-crafted. Thankfully, there were no blender noises to disturb our reverie. The waiter was very attentive to our beverage needs, perhaps a bit too attentive. It seems that the word has gone out that gringos like their cheap booze, and the adjacent table of the real housewives of Tucson did nothing to assuage that opinion.
Having worked up an appetite, we opened with ceviche, guacamole, and La Roca cheese. I had the beef ranchero with a chile relleno on the side. Girlfriend had enchiladas or some such. The food was good, excellent even. Not the best Mexican restaurant I have ever been to, but it vies for second place. The bill wasn't cheap, but nor was it unreasonable. If memory serves, it was around 40USD with tip. Being no stranger to those who troll Yelp, I know there is some neckbeard out there who is bound to ask, "But was it authentic?" To that I respond, "Define authentic anymore."
Upon leaving we took further respite in the courtyard to gird our loins for the in real life NC-17 video game that awaited us outside. Then hi-diddle-diddle, straight up the middle to the border. Arriving at passport control all sweaty and flushed, the female US Customs officer gave us the hairy eyeball. Looking at me, then at my girlfriend, she had probably surmised that I had just eaten a bottle of over-the-counter Viagra from the pharmacia and was rushing home in seek of the elusive erection lasting longer than 6 hours. When we told her that we had traveled to Nogales to eat at La Roca, she beamed and said, "Isn't it good? My family loves that place! Lucky!" Stamp-Stamp. A glowing review in itself. read more