Mi Nidito has been on South Fourth Avenue for decades, and the line outside on a Saturday afternoon will tell you everything you need to know about its reputation before you ever step through the door.
Rolando Morales grew up eating here. His mother brought him as a kid, back when the booths were already worn in and the salsa was already exactly like this — brick-red, smoky, with a slow heat that builds rather than announces itself. He started working here in his twenties, eventually became a manager, and has now outlasted three generations of servers, two paint jobs, and what he describes, with the deadpan of a man who has answered this question many times, as “a lot of food writers who thought they discovered us.”
The restaurant sits in South Tucson, which is technically its own incorporated city despite being surrounded on all sides by Tucson proper. That detail matters because South Tucson has its own character — denser, more working-class, with a concentration of Mexican food institutions that have never needed to market themselves to tourists. Mi Nidito is the most famous of these, partly because President Clinton ate here in 1999 and they have never let anyone forget it. The “President’s Plate” — a combination platter of a taco, enchilada, chile relleno, tamale, and bean tostada — is still on the menu. Rolando recommends it without irony. “It’s a good plate,” he says. “It was a good plate before he ordered it, too.”
The room itself is comfortable in the way that places get after they stop trying. Red vinyl booths, strings of lights, a painted mural that’s been there longer than most of the staff. Tables are close together. It’s loud when it’s full, which is most of the time. Reservations aren’t accepted, so the line forms early on weekends — sometimes by 4:30 for a 5 o’clock opening. Bring cash or a card; they take both. Expect to wait at least thirty minutes on a Friday night, longer on weekends. Rolando thinks the wait is part of the experience. He also knows he’s not going to convince anyone of that while they’re standing in it.
What’s worth ordering: the green corn tamales when they’re in season, the carne seca plate if you’ve never had Sonoran-style dried beef prepared correctly, and the sopapillas at the end, which come with honey and are not optional. The red chile enchiladas are smothered in a sauce that takes time to make and tastes like it. Portions are large. Prices are genuinely reasonable — most plates run $12 to $17, and you will not leave hungry unless you try very hard.
Rolando doesn’t get sentimental about the place out loud, but he does say that the regulars are what keep it honest. “When people come back every week,” he says, “you can’t cut corners.” He’s been not cutting corners here since the late eighties. The menu has changed some. The clientele has broadened. The line is longer than it used to be. The salsa, he is happy to report, is exactly the same.
Mi Nidito is at 1813 S. Fourth Ave. Hours vary by season; check before you go. Closed Tuesdays.
