Hail, Caesar

No bacon. Optional croûtons. ALEX MCCLINTOCK celebrates the salad days of Tijuana.

- Alex Mcclintock

The frat boys and sailors who once trawled Tijuana’s main drag have long gone, scared away by the drug war. Now the drug war has drifted away from the city centre, too, leaving Avenida Revolución, with its shabby bars and seedy strip clubs, largely to the locals.

It’s seven in the evening and the touts look tired. So do the zonkeys – donkeys painted black and white to impersonate zebras for photo opportunities (a small fee, gracias, to the zonkey handler).

I’m feeling tired myself, when a pink stretch Humvee rolls past. Half a dozen teenagers in formal wear lean out of the sunroof, waving and hooting. They’re on their way to a quinceañera, the elaborate 15th-birthday celebration that marks a Mexican girl’s coming of age. I’m heading to something of a celebration myself, for Avenida Revolución is the unlikely birthplace of one of Mexico’s best-known culinary exports.