Taco Death Match 2024 is upon us, Long Beach. Ten taqueros and chefs from Long Beach and L.A. are battling in the ultimate competition focused on SoCal’s favorite food. They were asked to create unique “ofrenda tacos” that honor dead loved ones in honor of the Day of the Dead. Those tacos will then be paired with a beer from a local brewery. Each will be judged by professionals in the field and the festival patrons, as in the spirit of of ofrenda competitions found throughout Mexico.
In addition to the tacos, there will also be plenty of tequila tastings. Which also means some shopping. Which then, accordingly, means some ultra-special VIP perks. And entertainment. Some giveaways. Because this is all for the chance for a taquero to proclaim victory in the ultimate Taco Death Match.
We have some Cambodian peeps competing. And traditional taqueros (obviously)… So let’s talk about the restaurant chefs competing.
Hold up—why are y’all hosting chefs for Taco Death Match 2024? It’s a taco competition.
Yes, you are very much right. This is a taco competition—a dish that is as humble as noodles, pizza, and soup, all of which have been uplifted, reinterpreted, and served in a plethora of forms that widely deviate from their origins. The taco is the perfect medium for such a transformation—and, even more, a testament to the power of Mexican culture.
In Mexico, “taco” represents far more than the tangible thing we call a taco. It represents an opportunity to dine out, gather with family and friends, and give back to someone who needs it. Ultimately, it represents compassion. Even when people receive their paycheck, they say, “Ya salio, pa’l taco.” Or, “Yeah, this is enough to eat.” Not necessarily a taco (but very much likely a taco). A taco is a sustenance and comfort—however, that is represented.
In SoCal, there is probably no other form of food more ubiquitous, influential, or comforting than a taco (and yes, that includes our ever-omnipresent burritos, be they breakfast or carne asada. They are tacos). Allowing creatives to interpret the mighty taco is to allow Mexican culture and influence to flourish—and I couldn’t be more honored and excited to see what comes of these talented, beautiful humans who have made the kitchen their professional home.
Chef Jason Witzl of Ellie’s x Ginger’s
What kind of Taco Death Match creation? The perfectly bougie, umami bomb taco.
I’ve said it before, and I’ll repeat it: Chef Jason Witzl has had one helluva 2024. Opening up his Jolie’s space on Coronado Island in San Diego, he was lauded as Chef of the Year. And, well, truth be told, it made us severely miss him here in Long Beach. Indeed, his Ellie’s and Ginger’s spaces were running fine—but it missed that Jason-ness.
It was, after all, Chef Jason who introduced Long Beach to the ubiquitous Los Angeles bistro—that is, predominantly Mediterranean food melded with a Californian sensibility. Ellie’s paved the way for spaces like Marlena in Naples or Ubuntu opening a space in DTLB. Love spaces like Funke, Angelini Osteria, or Osteria La Buca? That is what Chef Jason brought to Long Beach. (More on La Buca and Funke in a bit.)
His return to form Long Beach-side has resulted in some of his finest food to date—and that certainly includes his taco for Taco Death Match 2024. Set up on a handmade purple masa corn tortilla, Chef Jason will add a fried oyster and bone marrow on top with salsa macha, the mighty chile-meets-nuts paste born out of Veracruz.
“This taco is for my friend Cody Tesnow,” Chef Jason said, whose friend died unexpectedly from a blood clot on Nov. 17, 2022. “He was a fascinating human: businessman, fisher, chef, lover of life. He was at the forefront of psilocybin for traumatic brain injuries… One of my best friends and one of the most interesting people on the planet.”
Chef Cameron Slaugh of The Attic x Nonna Mercato
What kind of Taco Death Match creation? The one that comes from one’s childhood.
Yes, Chef Cameron Slaugh is one of the city’s best chefs—that goes without saying. And yes, it bears repeating: Chef Cameron Slaugh—the man behind both the stellar Nonna Mercato in Bixby Knolls and The Attic on Broadway—is the city’s most underrated chef. This is not a slight. He has somehow escaped regional coverage—despite being the man who made Osteria La Buca, well, Osteria La Buca—while remaining under the radar at home. And this is all even though he and his business partner Steve Massis turned The Attic from Insta-centric to Michelin-recognized while also opening one of the city’s best pasta joints.
But who needs accolades when the food can speak for itself? From the man’s consistently shifting, consistently quality menus at The Attic to making some of the city’s best pasta (in a city that is having a pasta renaissance, no doubt), Chef Cameron is the Long Beach Funke without, well, ever really trying to imitate Chef Evan Funke. His food’s effortlessness—especially his Italian food—perpetually defies any specificity outside of “this is great food.”
For his competition taco at Taco Death Match 2024, Chef Cameron returns to his childhood.
“It’s not really about one particular person but my childhood in a way,” Chef Cameron said. “My parents, my grandparents, the flavors I grew up with—including Heber City’s massive Mexican community. It’s right outside Park City in Utah. I grew up eating Mexican food and hanging out with Mexican friends.”
What does this equate to, exactly? A porchetta taco with a pistachio influence. A pastrami taco with caramelized cheese. And a shaved ribeye-gone-birria taco.
Chef Isaias Hernandez of Smoke & Fire Eatery x Broken Spirits Distillery
What kind of Taco Death Match creation? The one that honors the chef that really started it all.
Chef Isaias Hernandez will take rightful issue with me calling him head chef and calling this taco solely his. Rest assured, it only simplifies what is truly a communal effort. After all, in the words of Chef Isaias, “It would be impossible to say one person had their hand in this when it really was a team effort.”
That team effort resulted in a house-made blue corn tortilla topped with Snake River Farms prime try-tip, a cilantro crema with cabbage, radishes, lemon “caviar” (where citrus is mixed with agar-agar to form bubbled droplets of tart juice), and triple-chile salsa made with burnt tortillas and chicken stock.
But who does it honor? Smoke & Fire’s Executive Chef Oscar Victoria, the man who played a role in dialing all the locations’ menus to what it is today. His passing last year left a hole in both the hearts and operations of Smoke & Fire, Craft (their higher-end concept), and Villains (their brewery). Bits of his spirit—in the double-fried-to-perfection wings, in the lamb chops slathered in chimichurri, in the creamy-AF mac’n’cheese—are consistently in the present, leaving Isaias and the family to remember him but also in Oscar’s very aura, succeed.
“We called him ‘El Rey,’ after the Vincente Fernández song,” Isaias said. “He uprooted his life in Long Beach to make so much of what we have happen. It goes without saying, but we literally wouldn’t be where we are without him—so it’s not just this taco but every plate we put out that honors him and his legacy.”
Chef Johnathan Benvenuti of Bar Becky
What kind of Taco Death Match creation? The very American perspective of Mexican food that is as comforting as it is a testament to the power of Mexican influence.
And we return to the definition of taco and its meaning to people. For Mexicans, as mentioned, it is far more than just the physical thing that is a taco. And our last “taco” takes that spirit by the horns—and might be the most controversial.
Chef Johnathan Benvenuti—ever the one to rely heavily on nostalgia in the most beautiful way—returns to the memory of his mother, who had a love affair with Mexican cuisine like many white American families. Indeed, it was far from traditional: Like the Black tacos that have their most robust presence right here in SoCal, “white people tacos” are very much a thing: A fried tortilla. Definitely yellow cheese, preferably cheddar. Certainly lettuce. Definitely ground beef. And usually crema. Salsas tend to vary, from pico de gallo (which isn’t a salsa, but alas…) to Pace to more formal takes on the treasured Mexican topping.
Undoubtedly, many will argue this isn’t “authentic” Mexican food. (That damn word is aggravating when applied to the world of food, a space dominated by a nearly endless history of influence, imperialism, and individuality.) But it is. Indeed, through an American lens, yes, but this is proof of the resilience and outright powerful presence Mexican food has when it is brought into a space outside of Mexico proper. It is powerful, prestigious, and prominent.
“What taco am I making? Holy shit,” Chef Johnathan said. “I am doing a taco salad. Is this too avante garde? Imagine white people taco night: that ground beef goodness. My mother would have taco salad twice a week. I’m thinking of that nostalgic tic with an elevation—fermented hot sauce, a house-made taco seasoning mix… I know it’s not technically a taco—but it means a lot to me. It honors the influence of Mexican culture on me and my family.”
Can we get an amen?
