The Legendary Baja Lobster
by Greg Niemann

Mr. Niemann resides in Cantamar, Baja California and is the author of Baja Fever (published in 1999). The accompanying story is excerpted from his latest work Baja Legends, due to be released soon.  For more information on Mr. Niemann and his work please visit:  http://www.BajaFever.com. 

It's just a mile up the road from us. And we've watched it grow into a real tourist destination for those seeking a great meal. It's not the place for steak, nor chicken, nor ribs, nor quiche. It's a lobster village, and lobster is king. Virtually unknown to outsiders just two decades ago, now Baja's Puerto Nuevo (New Port) is more popular than the surrounding communities.

If I thought Puerto Nuevo was overcrowded two years ago, even I was surprised at the recent growth in the village where approximately 35 restaurants line four block-long streets on an ocean bluff about 11 miles south of Rosarito Beach. Tourists are now bussed in from hotels in Rosarito Beach and as far away as San Diego. Even charter busses arrive each weekend. Parking on weekends is at a premium and on summer weekends, forget it.

The town got its start in a tiny cove where a trail drops down from modest fishermen's dwellings between the restaurants and the sparkling sea. This cove allows fishermen to penetrate the surf with shallow pangas and fish the area. About 50 years ago several families of fishermen from Lake Chapala in Jalisco relocated there and began a modest fishing enterprise.

The plentiful succulent California spiny lobster in the area lured the fishermen to set traps. Aside from supplying local restaurants and markets with their catch, the fishermen would sell lobster and fish directly to tourists and locals alike.

In the mid-fifties the first modest restaurant opened. By 1970 several of the families had set up tables in their living rooms and the term "Puerto Nuevo Style" was born. "Papa" passed the freshly severed lobster halves through the kitchen window to be cooked while guests gathered round to watch.

We Grabbed Our Own Sodas

In those early days, the customers actually felt like members of an extended family. We would just go in the kitchen and grab our own sodas or beers out of the family refrigerator. Before we left, the owners would just tally up the number of empty bottles on the table, a practice many restaurants still employ.

Even today the basic meal is almost the same in each restaurant: two halves of "Langosta" fried in lard (now also boiled or grilled), mouth-watering hot, home-made flour tortillas, beans, rice, butter, salsa, chips and limes, all served family style. Some restaurants include a tortilla soup or salad, others a guacamole dip, and others a margarita included in the package lobster dinner price.

Mariachi music wafts through the now-cobbled streets as musicians stroll from restaurant to restaurant along with purveyors of freshly cut flowers and trinkets made of seashells.

Leila and I will never forget that summer weekend day in 1985 when we went to the village to hire a mariachi group. We were throwing a party in Cantamar about two weeks hence.

Several groups of musicians lounged in the shade of a tree near the end of the main road, down about where a market is today. We were introduced to the leader of a group who would be willing to come to Cantamar on that date. We began negotiating how many hours they'd play, how much per hour, etc.

As we were closing in on a deal, they proudly offered to let us hear them. We agreed. So Leila and I stood, our arms around each other, in the middle of the dusty, dirt road, while this mariachi group serenaded us in the hot August sun. Quickly a crowd gathered out in the road while these guys just kept playing and playing. Their enthusiasm won us over. That we felt special amid a large group of gringos didn't hurt either.

Puerto Nuevo is now well identified with a welcoming arch, neon signs, modern buildings, hundreds of cars and tourists and numerous curio shops, yet for decades the place was hard to find.

Even giving directions was cryptic. We used to tell people, "About a quarter mile south of El Pescador restaurant, you'll see an old white building with a 7-Up bottle painted on it; turn down the dirt road next to that building. Stop at the first house on the left and knock on the door; it's really a restaurant. If they're out of lobster or busy, go to the second house."

A Big Demand for Lobster

By the late '70s demand outpaced the supply. Long lines formed at restaurants not "sold out." Many people were turned away, no lobster to be had. Now the village imports most of its lobster.

Today the restaurants run the gamut from a few tables in a modest house to beautiful marble and tile three story extravaganzas. The meals are fairly consistent, with many places also offering mixed drinks in addition to beer and sodas, and broader menus which now even include steak.

These days I constantly notice long lines at the first corner restaurant, one of the originals. I've been puzzled because elsewhere restaurants have kids "hawking" to come in and eat as they have plenty of room. One day recently Leila and I ate there to see if there was some special "magic" about the place. There wasn't. It was good, but no better than any of the others, certainly not worth standing in line for. I asked some people in line "Why stand and wait?" and their reasons vary, "A friend told me to only go to the first place, that it was the best." "I've been coming here for years and we always eat here." "It's good, worth the wait." Hey, it's not me standing out there.

Most of the village is related. Brothers, sisters, cousins and in-laws may all own restaurants on the same street. The Ortega family (Juan and Petra and their 10 children) was one of the first to offer home serving in the mid-'50s and now boasts five Puerto Nuevo restaurants and two in Rosarito Beach, further spreading the "Puerto Nuevo Style" fame.

About Half the Stateside Prices

Prices have risen at all of the restaurants over the years but still remain about half of most stateside prices. You can get a chica "small" lobster (2 halves) from $8.50 to $12, and mediums from $12 to $15. Places are now even offering packages of three halves. For two people it might be better to buy a "Grande" for $16 to $20 and split it.

One time Leila, Ken and a teenage buddy split a large $25.00 lobster three ways. There was still some left so we bundled the remainder up and took it home. The next morning it became a delicious lobster omelet that fed all four of us.

Smaller places on the side streets usually have the best buys and the quality is the same or better. Most of us who live in the area have our favorite places even though the offered fare is similar. I've eaten in at least half the places and keep gravitating back to one on the last street. I've gotten to know the family and watched the younger ones grow up, get married and have children of their own. The owner is most gracious and always whips up a special treat for his friends.

The busloads and carloads of tourists that make for busy weekends at Puerto Nuevo now call for a different strategy. Do like a lot of the Mexicans and eat your main meal earlier in the day. Go during the week. Go only before Memorial Day and after Labor Day. Today Puerto Nuevo is a far cry from when we used to give directions to it based on a well-placed 7-Up sign.

Take free (libre) road 11 miles south from Rosarito Beach. From toll road, there is a marked "Puerto Nuevo" turn-off about 10 miles south. Or you can take the "Cantamar" turn-off and go north on old road one mile.

Puerto Nuevo is more than eating a dinner out. It can be a complete Baja experience: the succulent food, strolling mariachis, vendors and purveyors of trinkets and curios, a bustling village, and killer sunsets over the sparkling blue Pacific.

The lobster village of Puerto Nuevo has in just a few decades become an immensely popular Baja Legend.