Case file 000
El Informante
Charge: misdemeanor.
One smash patty, American cheese, plancha onions, house sauce. A small side of fries, just enough. Says little, delivers, and leaves your paycheck alone.
$99 MXN. Small fries included.
Case file 000. San Blas, Nayarit. Open.
The only good thing out of Gringoland, deported to your door.
Tacos, no. That was settled long ago. But burgers, wings and fries, that gringos can do. So we grab them on the beach, put them in the kitchen and send you what comes out. You order. We deport. The gringo does the dishes.
Operation log
Handmade. By gringo hands. Supervised.
Every burger is made by a real gringo. Caught on the beach, walked to the kitchen, put to work. First time in his life he does something right.
They brought the recipe. We bring the supervision. The beef is ground every morning: chuck, brisket, sirloin and picaña. Never frozen. The wings come fresh from the chicken guy, never from a bag with frost on it. The brioche bun is baked in town. The smash is pressed by hand on a hot plancha. Nothing comes out of a plant in Ohio. Up there they allow it. Here we don't.
Labor: 100% gringo, 0% papers. They work for food, shade and the right not to be deported before closing. Nobody has complained. Nobody has anyone to complain to.
The kitchen answers to El Cardiólogo. From Texas. Not a doctor. Earned the name with his fry blend: 70% pork lard, 30% pure palm oil, the kind pressed from the fruit. Nothing hydrogenated. Nothing from a tub. His motto is painted above the fryer: we keep your doctor in business.
Result: the most authentic gringo food on the planet. Made by gringos. In Mexico. Under watch.
- Real American cheese. The kind that melts without asking.
- Beef ground the same day: chuck, brisket, sirloin, picaña. Zero freezer.
- Fresh wings, daily. If it has frost on it, it isn't ours.
- Every sauce made by hand, from the chile up. No packet, no bottle, no label in English.
- Fries and rings fried in 70% pork lard and 30% real palm oil. Zero hydrogenated fat.
- Zero franchise. Zero manual. All gringo in the kitchen, none at the register.
The kitchen has no address. Your house does.
No sign. No tables. No Google pin. If you find it, don't post it. Agents roll out from there and reach any point in the sector in under 40 minutes, sand flies or no sand flies.
Tap your zone. Each one has a report.
Pick a zone
Radar is on. The kitchen is hidden.
Open case files
Every dish comes with a case number, a charge and a price. That's it. No filtered photo, no three paragraphs of poetry. Want to know what it tastes like, file the report.
Case file 001
El Fugitivo
Charge: double meat without a permit.
Double beef smash, American cheese, bacon, onions browned on the plancha and a sauce a gringo would cry to learn. Brioche bun baked here. Bolillo, no.
$150 MXN. Delivered without handcuffs.
Case file 002
La Redada
Charge: we take everything.
Triple meat, triple cheese, barbed-wire rings on top and house smoked BBQ. Weighs like a federal case. Do not drive afterwards.
$190 MXN. Napkins included. Lots.
Case file 003
Sobrino de Trump
Charge: orange, big, no clue.
Double bacon, orange cheese, buffalo sauce. Talks a lot, can't handle chile. Most ordered burger among people who say they don't like politics.
$150 MXN. The uncle paid the bill.
Case file 004
Alitas sin papeles
Charge: crossed without a visa.
Marinated 24 hours, fresh from the chicken guy. Bone-in, or without identity (boneless). Every order comes with fries and carrot sticks, as the town expects. Pick your immigration status: Tourist Visa to Deported. Ranch for whoever surrenders.
| Bone-in | 6 $110 | 12 $190 | 15 $230 |
|---|---|---|---|
| No identity | 12 $110 | 18 $170 | 25 $230 |
MXN. Every order with its own heat level. Extra sauce $20. Water for the gringo: free.
Case file 005
Papas confiscadas
Charge: edible evidence.
Thick knife-cut potato, fried in El Cardiólogo's blend: 70% pork lard, 30% real palm oil. The kind that comes from the fruit, not the hydrogenated vegetable shortening in a tub. Sea salt from the bay. Optional: drowned in American cheese and jalapeño. Found during the raid and we decided to keep them.
$70 MXN. We keep your doctor in business.
Case file 006
Aros de alambrada
Charge: obstruction of the mouth.
Thick onion rings, hand battered, fried in the same blend until they crunch out loud. The only wall we actually want you to cross. Muro chido: not even Trump stops us.
$70 MXN. Nobody pays for it from the other side.
Joint operation
Operativo doble
Charge: two suspects, one order.
Two burgers from the list (El Fugitivo or Sobrino de Trump) and a large order of confiscated fries. For two people, or one with an agent's appetite.
$280 MXN. Round number, as is customary.
Joint operation
Redada familiar
Charge: 30 wings, all at once.
30 bone-in wings, fries and carrots for the table, two extra sauces on the house. Mix the levels however you want. Deported is signed individually.
$400 MXN. For the family, the crew or the team.
Case file 007. Under interrogation.
Costillas del otro lado
Charge: 12 hours hiding in the smoker.
Real BBQ, mangrove wood, no rush. Hasn't confessed yet. When it does, the file opens and you hear first.
No price. No date. Plenty of patience.
Case file 008. Under interrogation.
Wurst ahumada
Charge: entered on a German passport.
Smoked sausage over mangrove wood, made here, El Patrón's recipe. The only thing he cooks with his own hands and the only thing he doesn't discuss. Out when he says so.
No price. No date. No questions.
The sauce decides your papers
Four levels. Tap one. The last one isn't a sauce, it's a sentence.
Every sauce is made here, from the chile up. Roasted, ground, whisked by hand into butter. Real butter, from a cow. No margarine, no dyed soybean oil, not the shit that turns you gay. No packet. No label. Tossed the moment the wings leave the lard, never before.
No status selected. The agent is waiting.
Stamp card
Your Green Card
Every deportation, one stamp. Ten stamps, citizenship: El Fugitivo, free. Faster than the embassy and nobody asks why you're here.
Tap the circles. Practice. In real life the agent stamps them.
0 of 10. Status: hungry tourist.
Statements from detained gringos
Taken at the scene. Edited a little.
Statement 014. Playa El Borrego.
"I asked for water. They brought water. Then the whole beach laughed."
Brad, 34, Texas. Status: Tourist Visa.
La Migra replies: Yes, Brad. That's how it works.
Statement 027. San Blas marina.
"This is NOT authentic Mexican food. One star."
Karen, 47, Ohio. Came by sailboat. Leaves by sailboat.
La Migra replies: Correct, Karen. It's gringo food. That's the point.
Statement 041. Matanchén.
"Best burger I've had south of the border. Still don't get the name."
Kyle, 29, California. Status: Green Card. Surfs badly.
La Migra replies: Ask your uncle, Kyle.
Statement 058. La Tovara.
"Please tell me the wings come mild. I have a thing tomorrow."
Chad, 31, Colorado. Came for the birds. Found the chiles.
La Migra replies: Yes, Chad. It's called Tourist Visa. Like you.
Interrogation
Questions we get. Answers we give. Nobody asked for a lawyer.
Is it Mexican food?
No. It's gringo food made by gringos, with a Mexican watching. That's why it comes out right.
Where are you?
San Blas. That's all. The kitchen has no sign and no tables, and it stays that way. You order, the agent shows up. Nobody needs to know where it came from.
How far do you go?
Centro, El Borrego, the marina, Matanchén, Las Islitas, Aticama. Further than that, the agent asks for travel expenses and a bigger bike.
Is it spicy?
Depends on your papers. Tourist doesn't burn. Deported does. If you're blond and order Deported, the agent will give you a look. Part of the service.
Do you take dollars?
Only if they come with salsa. Cash, card and transfer, yes. No crossing fee.
What about the sand flies?
Those are locals. We don't deport them. Shut the door fast when the agent arrives.
What if I don't open the door?
The agent waits 5 minutes, eats one confiscated fry as evidence and leaves. The deportation order stays on your file.
Who runs this place?
A German. Nobody knows how he got to San Blas. He checks the plancha, tastes the salsa, does not smile. Says the hamburger left Hamburg long before anyone put a flag on it, and that gringos stole BBQ too, like everything good. We don't argue. He's right.
What if I'm a gringo?
Welcome. Nobody here asks for your visa. We ask you to handle the chile. Almost none of you do, and that feeds us too.
Muro chido. Not even Trump stops us.
The fryer is already hot.
Operations every day, 1 in the afternoon to 1 in the morning. After midnight the combo changes.