How a fast food taco showed who Steve Hilton really is

Gustavo Arellano, Tribune News Service

Out in the high desert city of Barstow stand three Del Tacos that bill themselves as better than their corporate cousins. They're the last ones owned and operated by Ed Hackbarth, the founder of the Mexican fast food chain. Two of them feature the word "Original" under their marquees, even though that's historically inaccurate — Hackbarth opened the first Del Taco in the nearby town of Yermo in 1964.

That hasn't stopped thousands of devotees — myself included — from trekking to these Cal-Mex shrines to buy memorabilia, gawk at historical photos and gorge on hard shell tacos, burritos and bun tacos that they insist are tastier than the ones at regular Del Tacos.

Among those visitors was Republican gubernatorial candidate Steve Hilton. He stopped by the Original Del Taco off 1st Avenue on Saturday after a town hall with lieutenant governor candidate and Barstow native Gloria Romero. His campaign posted a short video on social media of him standing outside the spot — the oldest operating Del Taco — while holding something that looked like a melted Frisbee.

It was what the place calls a Barstow Taco: ground beef, a few strips of lettuce, a blizzard of bright yellow cheese and a thick red tomato slice on top, all inside a hard taco shell. Hilton gleefully wielded the crunchy mass with one hand as he pointed to the Original Del Taco sign with the other. "My Barstow street taco, I'm going to enjoy," he concluded in an accent from his native England, while giving a thumbs-up. "See you soon."

He didn't take a bite. The social media blowback exploded like a digital Montezuma's revenge. Haters ridiculed Hilton for visiting a Mexican restaurant in what seemed like an attempt to attract Latino voters — if he was going to do that, why on Earth pick a multimillion-dollar empire founded by a gringo? Others noted that "street tacos" are made with corn tortillas and bought from a food truck or street stall. As the author of a book about the history of Mexican food in the United States, I pointed out that this Del Taco isn't actually the original, despite what the marquee says.

A humble man would have immediately owned up to his mistakes. Hilton is not a humble man. To someone who pointed out that "Barstow street taco" is a misnomer, Hilton shot back, "It's what they call it!" To someone who accused him of supporting bland corporations instead of mom-and-pop shops, Hilton responded that he went there because Romero once worked there.

"Not everything in life has to be turned into a political argument!!" he whined. Hilton and his followers are treating Del Taco-gate as much ado about nada — and yet it tells voters everything they need to know about the man. Endorsed by President Donald Trump, he has consistently topped the polls this year, mainly because the many Democratic candidates have split the vote. Hilton has outperformed his main Republican rival, Riverside County Sheriff Chad Bianco, by promoting a message of positivity with weak-salsa slogans like "Make California Golden Again" and "Califordable."

During debates, the former Fox News host has relied on his dry wit and posh tone to make his answers sound stronger than they are. He has especially focused on selling himself to Latinos. Months before announcing his run, we sat down at my wife's restaurant in Santa Ana as he tried to pick my brain about this crucial swing vote, asking questions I kept telling him I had already answered in my columna.

Hilton is not stupid. But I have to wonder about his judgment after that Del Taco video. I have no problem with Hilton campaigning at a Mexican restaurant — it's a political trope practised by candidates of all persuasions. It's unfair to expect a British immigrant who's been in California only since 2012 to be fully versed in taco culture, as essential to the state as it is. And people shouldn't bash him for highlighting a California culinary institution that's one of the better legacy fast food chains out there, even though the Barstow Taco is, well, whatever. (Del Taco's half-pound bean and cheese burrito, on the other hand, is as silky as a Luther Vandross slow jam.)

A proper hard shell taco is a beautiful thing. Just head out to San Bernardino's Mitla Cafe, where Hackbarth's former boss, Glen Bell, learned to make the tacos that turned the two of them into millionaires. But bragging about enjoying a hard shell taco nowadays is like showing up to a street takeover in a horse buggy. As relevant to modern-day California as tamale pie, hard shell tacos are a reflection of Hilton's pitch to voters: Instead of offering a bold vision for the future, he offers a return to a past that will never happen again and that wasn't as great as people make it out to be.

I've tried to be as open as possible to Hilton's campaign. California could benefit from a governor who didn't emerge from the Sacramento swamp. It might even benefit from a Republican, as in the 2000s when Arnold Schwarzenegger forced Democrats to fight instead of fester. But Hilton disappoints again and again. He launched his campaign in Huntington Beach, enamoured of politicians there who seek to silo their city from the rest of California and humiliate liberals at every opportunity. His embrace of Trump's endorsement and refusal to admit that Joe Biden legitimately won the 2020 presidential election expose him as a toady. Hilton's ongoing boast that he is the candidate for legal immigrants disqualifies my father, who originally came to this country without papers yet has contributed more to the California experiment (and is now a US citizen) than Hilton ever has.