by Gustavo Arellano
As a devoted defender of Mexican cuisine and author of “Taco USA: How Mexican Food Conquered America,” I often find myself stepping into the ring to champion its honor. It’s a role I embrace, ensuring no culinary injustice goes unchallenged.
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Over the years, I’ve playfully sparred with celebrity chef Rick Bayless for his presumptuous claim of introducing “authentic” Mexican flavors to Southern California, a region already rich in genuine Mexican culinary traditions dating back centuries. I’ve challenged Austin, Texas’s assertion as the originator of the breakfast taco craze, pointing to its true roots in South Texas’s deeply Mexican heritage. And when Donald Trump proudly posted a picture with a taco bowl, I was quick to remind everyone that this dish was popularized by Mexican workers at Disneyland in the 1950s.
So, you can imagine my anticipation when I heard about San Diego Padres first baseman Wil Myers’ bold statement this past summer. He confessed to a reporter, “I’ve said this on a couple occasions, and people get really mad at me. I enjoy East Coast Mexican food a little better. Yeah, wow. I grew up on it. That’s just what my taste is, but there’s nothing wrong with San Diego Mexican food.”
“I enjoy East Coast Mexican food a little better. Yeah, wow. I grew up on it.” —San Diego Padres first baseman Wil Myers
The backlash was immediate and intense. San Diegans, fiercely proud of their city’s Mexican culinary scene, felt personally attacked. But it wasn’t just San Diego; Mexican food enthusiasts across the nation were stunned. How could anyone, they wondered, prefer East Coast Mexican food over the celebrated fare of the Southwest? Witnessing this passionate defense, I was genuinely impressed. Finally, it seemed, America was ready to rally in defense of Mexican culinary pride!
Ready to join the fray, I began to research Myers. (Full disclosure: As a Chicago Cubs fan, the Padres have been off my radar since the Tony Gwynn era.) But before I could launch my critique, I paused. It turns out Myers isn’t some elite Bostonian or a wisecracking New Yorker. He’s a Southerner, a Tar Heel born and bred. When this twenty-five-year-old from Thomasville, North Carolina, spoke of his fondness for East Coast Mexican food, he wasn’t referring to the Northeast corridor; he was talking about Southern Mexican food.
For those unfamiliar, the distinction might seem trivial. And it’s true, Mexican food in the South, while evolving, hasn’t yet reached the heights of West Coast Mexican cuisine, or indeed, various other regional Mexican styles across the US. The Southwest boasts a 250-year head start in Mexican culinary traditions. The East Coast, particularly New York, has benefited from a vibrant influx of immigrants from Puebla, Mexico, enriching its food landscape. The South? Historically, its Mexican restaurants often remained rooted in a somewhat dated Tex-Mex paradigm, reminiscent of menus from the early 1990s. Perhaps its most unique contribution to the broader American Mexican food scene has been the tostaguac, essentially a guacamole taco.
However, Myers’ comments deserve praise, not condemnation. He represents a significant shift in the South. A generation is coming of age for whom Mexican food isn’t an exotic novelty, but a familiar, comforting part of their Southern identity. This embrace of Mexican food is a powerful indicator of the South’s growing inclusivity and evolving cultural landscape, particularly its increasing connection with Latino communities.
A generation is growing up with Mexican food and embracing it as part of who they are as Southerners.
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For someone like me, who grew up in Southern California, Mexican food is woven into the fabric of daily life. It’s a cuisine we claim as our own without a second thought about cultural appropriation. It’s as integral as the air we breathe, almost part of our DNA.
Exposure to diverse cuisines, especially from a young age, broadens perspectives and fosters understanding. Historically, dismissing ethnic foods has been a tactic used by dominant cultures to marginalize minority groups, marking them as “Other.” When my family immigrated to Orange County, California, in the 1960s, while Mexican food was enjoyed by many, it—and the Mexican people who created it—weren’t fully accepted as truly American.
But when tacos and enchiladas are regular staples in your diet, embracing Mexicans as friends, neighbors, classmates, and partners becomes natural. These everyday culinary connections have profoundly shaped Southern California, making it a more welcoming and integrated place for Mexican people.
The South is now embarking on a similar journey. No other region in the United States has witnessed such a rapid proportional growth in its Latino population in recent decades. North Carolina, Wil Myers’ home state, has been at the forefront of this demographic shift, welcoming more Latino immigrants than almost any other state. According to data from the University of North Carolina’s Carolina Population Center, in 2012, approximately 845,000 Latinos resided in North Carolina, out of a total population of around 10 million. This is a dramatic increase from just over 76,000 in 1990. Only Florida and Georgia have larger Latino communities in the Southern United States.
A field guide to snacking on corn by Arellano. Data from the Pew Hispanic Center reveals that in 1990, the year Myers was born, only 602 Latinos lived in his native Davidson County. By 2011, that number had surged to 10,550, representing 6 percent of the county’s population. However, the 2010 U.S. Census indicates that Latinos constituted 14.4 percent of Thomasville’s population, Myers’ hometown. This means Myers grew up in a town with a Latino demographic twice as high as the rest of Davidson County and exceeding the state average. While his parents’ generation may have viewed Latinos as newcomers, Myers grew up alongside them, likely attending school and playing sports with children of immigrants and second-generation Latinos drawn to the area’s manufacturing sector and its proximity to the Winston-Salem/Greensboro/High Point Triad area.
His pride in North Carolina’s Mexican food is not misplaced. Statistics from the Institute for Mexicans Abroad show that the majority of Mexican immigrants in North Carolina originate from Hidalgo, Veracruz, Guerrero, and Oaxaca. These states boast rich and diverse culinary traditions: Hidalgo is renowned for its slow-roasted barbacoa, Veracruz for its exquisite fish stews, Guerrero for its unique take on huevos rancheros known as aporreado, and Oaxaca for its complex and flavorful moles. It’s highly probable that the Mexican restaurants Myers frequented in his youth were run by individuals deeply knowledgeable about authentic Mexican cooking. Even if these restaurateurs made strategic business decisions to offer crowd-pleasing nachos alongside more regional dishes, we can be confident that Myers was exposed to genuinely good food.
Carne asada tacos are now as Southern as biscuits and gravy, whether people want to believe it or not.
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Wil Myers’s appreciation for his hometown Mexican food is significant. This cuisine has become an integral part of his Southern identity, and for millennials like him, it paves the way for greater connection and collaboration with their Latino peers in shaping the South’s promising future.
So, congratulations, Wil Myers. You might have faced some playful ridicule for your food preference. And while I might still argue that San Diego Mexican food offers a broader spectrum of flavors and styles (have you tried the seafood at Mariscos German?), you were courageous in voicing a truth that many need to acknowledge: Carne asada tacos are now as Southern as biscuits and gravy, whether everyone is ready to admit it or not.
Gustavo Arellano is the editor of OC Weekly and Gravy’s columnist.
