Garibaldi’s greets you with a storm door, not a glass façade. Inside, hand-lettered specials on neon poster board taped to a fridge advertise pozole and enchiladas beneath a silent TV. It feels more like stepping into a cousin’s kitchen than a restaurant.

The food matches the room: migas smothered in cheese, burritos wrapped in foil, beans and potatoes served without ceremony. In a city where downtown Mexican spots come and go with all the authenticity of theme-park restaurants, Garibaldi’s keeps its edge by being exactly what it is—unvarnished, generous, and true to its roots.

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