My knowledge of chilaquiles didn’t emerge until a friend was planning to cook these for our friends and me while we were in a cabin-lodging retreat at Big Bear Lake, CA a few years ago.  Obviously being a food enthusiast, I immediately asked him what they were composed of.  Despite his very candid response, we didn’t end up catching our taste buds to his edible project (though at the same time I discovered another friend’s homecooked Lomo Saltado—oh man, I’m already salivating while typing this).

And ever since, I’ve been on a continuous hunt for these breakfast nachos–which is a more comprehensive way to describe it–except that eggs are welcome in this show, and real cheese stood its ground.

To my astonished delight I hailed this small San Diego local spot, blended almost surreptitiously against a vast region of neighborhood homes, for assembling these tempting chilaquiles, along with their myriad ingredients for concocting the revering mocha of the consumer’s dreams—whether it’d be Mexican mocha, peanut butter, or the traditional American.  Was this Aztec-themed restaurant alluded to the 80’s movie starring Julia Roberts: my answer is both uncertain and not purely coincidental.

My best friend and I each ordered the chilaquiles and lattes that we were eyeing most on—distinguished as its walled menu above and behind the cashier—so that we followed our workable tactics by at least sampling the munch-able part.  Before we even ordered thru the counter, we noticed on its table surface a newspaper clip of the day’s horoscope, freely displayed to discover if we choose to follow through a terrific or cautious one, depending on our sign—which for now you’d have to guess mine.

The Butterfly Wants to Know Your Horoscope, Too

Falling back to the real world, the one I sank into such utterly shameless indulgence was aptly called the Chorizo Chilaquiles ($7.50).  Meanwhile, my best friend decided to do the limbo by ordering Blue Corn Chilaquiles w/ Chicken, which I do apologize for not having a photo of what was virtually brandishing the same execution as my plate pictured below.

The Chorizo Chilaquiles w/ the Lusciously Yummy Salsa Roja Hidden Behind Those Wings

I hope you could determine the size comparison of this controlled leviathan with my friend’s iPhone 5S in the background.  How can one absolutely not forgo a heaping, terrifically sated proportion of crispy fried tortillas, seasoned stir-fried scrambled eggs, an array of piquant Mexican cheeses, and–last yet certainly not least–the devilishly sensuous chorizo conquering all-around each chip?

I mean, at that aforementioned whopping price, if you assuredly can resist easily, either you’re understandably vegan, allergic to eggs, or you need to stop self-depriving and thus ephemerally rebel from this health-conscious Golden State.  Speaking of which, the inherent healthy minds nagged us to briskly amble around Balboa Park afterwards for a couple of hours.

As for her Blue Chip Chicken Chilaquiles, as a whole it was scrumptious, but choosing between poultry and minced sausage would unthinkably make an epicurean difference.

Nonetheless, whatever stage in the sky or the underworld we were transiently stuck at, we eventually escaped when we claimed willpower to take 2/3 of our dishes as leftovers for both the next day and the day after.  I’ll say from eating the remnants, I thanked the chorizo and cheese deities for keeping their flavor post-microwave!

To praise these other deities, we cheered with the above-pictured drinks.  Having a pretty good number of Mexcian Mocha delights previously, whether in Cali or the Hawkeye State, this splendidly placed me under the protection of their godly eyes because I relished this luscious, calmly caffeinated drink, requested non-fat though not necessarily in lesser amounts of carb calories or whipped cream.  Unfortunately the same eyes weren’t working for my friend’s take on the PSL, and thus I bluntly recommended her to try the Two-Tailed Mermaid’s version.

So yes we were in mixed, supernatual domains during our quality breakfast moments, and for that reason, entering Mystic Mocha might be a risk, whether foodie-wise or personal-wise.  But it’s undoubtedly worth taking.

Overall Grade: B+

2105 Mission Ave.

San Diego, CA 92116

(619) 688-0858