Taquito Revisitado -- Rodolfo's

Rodolfo's

8 Olvera St
Los Angeles, CA 90012

(213) 625-8501

Google Map

You may recall that some time ago, I posted a near-encyclopedic review of the numerous taquito stands lining the East side of Olvera Street. I concluded that while Cielito Lindo is the most famous, the best was Juanita's Cafe. I apologized at the end of the review for having mis-calculated my taquito intake on the way up the street, and being therefore indisposed to check out Rodolfo's at the top of the street.

Perhaps some of you saw the comment that appeared on the post a few weeks later:

you can't write a taquito review of olvera street without eating at Rodolfo's. Juanitas is good and you are right about the other restaurants, they suck (Luz del Dia excluded) but you started on the wrong side of the street cuz you would've eaten 10 straight up had you eaten at Rodolfo's and your review would have been totally different.i guess what i'm saying is you have yet to eat the best taquitos at Olvera Street... our taquitos kick ass. so come back and ask for Daniel and i'll give you the goods.

I went back to Rodolfo's. Now, even though I'm a blogger, I at least pretend to have some journalistic ethics. I rarely post about a place after only one visit, and I never let an establishment comp me a meal. Not that any have offered. But still, I would never have accepted special treatment from Rodolfo's, despite the invitation. That would not be fair you, my humble readers, who might not receive such preferred taquito treatment.

Besides, "Daniel" wasn't there when I asked for him.

But you know what? Rodolfo's taquitos do, indeed, kick ass. What sets them apart from the other tubes of greasy goodness on the block is the delicacy of the shell. Where Cielito Lindo's taquito is positively chewy, at Rodolfo's the tortilla itself manages to be crispy on the outside, fluffy on the inside, like a pastry or a perfect french fry. That's no mean feat to achieve in the 1/16th inch width of the flattened-maize medium. Only one small gripe: the stand's photographic menu tantalizingly shows taquitos served with a chunky, fresh guacamole, but it is in fact topped with that very different beast, avocado sauce. But it's a tangy, creamy one with a nice kick so no points deducted.


Add to that Rodolfo's delicious beef filling -- yes, it passes the whole-thing-wants-come-out-in-the-first-bite litmus test for stringy beef -- and Rodolfo's has clearly earned its spot at the top of the Olvera Street.

Super Bowl — T.O.T.

T.O.T. (Teishokuya of Tokyo)

345E. 2nd St.,

Los Angeles, CA

(213) 680-0344
Google Local Info

Over the past holidays, I had the dubious pleasure of serving jury duty. You'll be happy to know that I sent a probable gang-banger home to his momma for Christmas. (Yes, he was a gang-banger; no, the prosecution did not prove their weapons-possession case.) But more importantly, I pledged — for the edification of you, my readers — to visit a different Little Tokyo eatery each day of my service. I visited Suehiro Cafe for the seventh or eighth time, and decided that despite foodie claims to the contrary, it's really not very good. It's gritty, and not in a good way. I visited Sushi Go 55. And on the third day, I stumbled into the sleek confines of Teishokuya of Tokyo, thankfully abbreviated to T.O.T. I never made it to another restaurant.

The photos says it all. I've gone back several times over the past few months intending to take my camera and post about it, but the food is so good, I keep forgetting to snap a picture before diving in! I've finally given up. So let's just consider the half-eaten photo here a "cross-section" shot of T.O.T's genius: the humble rice bowl.




I suppose that in Japan, this would be donburi by any other name. But where all the donburi I'm familiar with involves chicken, beef, or perhaps fried chicken tonkatsu, T.O.T presents a stunning array of different combinations of ingredients, a couple dozen in all. I've worked my way through many of them. It's usually safe to go for the first item on any ethnic menu, and T.O.T. is no exception. The "Tuna-Tuna Bowl" is a ring of lightly seared albacore tuna, with a scoop of sushi-style Spicy Tuna on top, all on a bed of perfectly seasoned rice with a dusting of seaweed and sesame oil. The "Dragon Bowl" takes one of my favorite sushi combos — avocado and baked sea eel in a sweet sauce — and puts it over rice. The "Tuna Avocado Bowl" is spicy tuna and fresh chunks of avocado on a bed of fresh lettuce laid over the rice and drizzled with a sesame soy sayce and a delicious and tangy wasabi mayonnaise. The "Spicy Chicken Bowl" is utterly addictive, the savory chicken leg meat in a perfectly balanced blend of sweet and spicy. Baked scallops with egg is creamy and swathed in a subtle sauce that will have you coming back the next day for more. Only the Carne Asada Bowl, with grilled beef and guacamole, felt entirely out of place.


They make a decent udon, too, and I've seen plates of enticing chicken curry go by as well; but I'll be working my way through every bowl on the menu before I bother checking it out. Lunch bowls are in the $7-8 dollar range, and include a tasty salad, miso soup, and orange slice for dessert, all served up in tastefully lit, stylish surroundings by eye-candy wait staff. Throw in validated parking in the Little Tokyo Plaza lot, and it all adds up to, for my money, the best, healthiest dining option in Little Tokyo.

If anyone manages to take a picture of the bowl before beginning to consume, please share!

It's Chinatown, Jake -- Ocean Seafood

Ocean Seafood

747 North Broadway

Los Angeles, CA 90012-2819

(213) 687-3088

www.oceansf.com‎

More Info

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Everyone knows that the best Chinese food this side of Hong Kong is in the San Gabriel Valley: Monterey Park, San Gabriel, Alhambra, Rosemead... You know that, right? It's true. But sometimes that extra five is just too many minutes on the 10. Sometimes you're stuck downtown. Jury duty, maybe. Who knows, maybe you're using public transportation, and Monterey Park isn't an option. Maybe you're like me, and you just like the vibe and the romance of L.A.'s original Chinatown. After all, San Gabriel doesn't have one of the great movies of all time named after it. To paraphrase Lucy Van Pelt, "How can San Gabriel be so great if it doesn't even have a movie named after it?"

Many folks will tell you that if you're having Chinatown Chinese food, you should go to Empress Pavilion. And if you were looking for dim sum, I'd say they might be right. But when I want dinner in Chinatown, I head for Ocean Seafood.

It's located on the top floor of the same arcade that houses Mandarin Deli, Pho 79, and Kim Chuy -- all utterly worthy restaurants. It occurs to me that if I could only pick one building in L.A. in which to eat, it would be this one.

Aside from the simple loveliness of its name (isn't "ocean" one of the prettiest words in our language?), Ocean Seafood serves awesome meals in classic Hong Kong Seafood style. Entering from street level, you're greeted by a mirrored foyer with a burbling, stone-waterfalled koi pond.

You're already feeling pretty blissed-out by the time you arrive at the dining room upstairs, where your first sight is of bubbling saltwater tanks full of the little and not-so-little sea beasties you're about to consume.

The room is what you want in a Chinese Seafood palace: huge, gilt, filled with lazy susan bedecked tables and a "full bar" that's as perfunctory as the typically crappy service.

We usually bring another couple, and get the same half dozen dishes here. Other stuff is good, but it's always these dishes that I crave.

Start off with the Peking Duck. I once got into an online spat with Jonathan Gold because I love the Peking Duck here, which he argued was like ordering pasta in a French restaurant. Screw you, I basically said, I've had some great pasta in French restaurants, and if you won't order the Peking Duck here because it's regionally not a authentic Hong Kong style dish, your loss, Pulitzer dude.

Peking duck, for those not familiar, Is a whole-or-half duck, roasted. Its skin and a layer of fat are sliced off at your table and placed on a fluffy pancake with a smear of sweet plum sauce and a scallion, and served on a small plate with a shrimp cracker, to be eaten as finger food.

The remainder of the fowl is taken away, cleavered into chopstick-sized portions, and brought back to you for further consumption.

This is just one of the best dining experiences there is, and at $14.50 for half a duck or $26 for a whole, worth the price of admission.

We then move on to the Crab in XO Sauce. The crab you will have formed a personal relationship with: they bring the live one you order straight from its tank in a plastic bag, to wave its goodbyes to you before hitting the pot. The XO sauce is kinda dated by now -- it was big in the 90s -- but I still love it. A family-secret concoction of finely garlic, onion, chilis, tiny dried shrimp, salt cured fish, and the like, it's spicy, tangy and oceany. Eating this dish is a freaking mess, but worth every stain.

The golden ticket on this plate are the crab shoulders, not the legs... put the whole donut-hole sized shoulder piece in your mouth and suck until it's empty. Then use the hot towel provided to clean up.

After that, a nice palate cleanser of Chinese broccoli, steamed with garlic.

Okay, the garlic isn't exactly palate cleansing, but the broccoli is fresh and crunchy. I could eat this stuff all day.

Finally, after all that protein, a traditional "filling-in-the-corners" carb dish, just to make sure you don't leave hungry. We generally go for the House Special Pan Fried Noodle, a mixture of chicken, pork, fish and veggies atop your crispy-browned-giving-way-to-saturated soft noodle.

For dessert... well, why have funky Asian dessert when you can just order the sweet honey walnut shrimp instead, smothered in a rich, creamy mayonnaise and honey sauce, with crunchy candied walnuts?

All this can be had for about $30 pp for four. Wash all this down with a Tsing Tao, and I guarantee you won't be hungry again in an hour.

They also do a fine dim sum brunch. There's free parking available underground; they validate for the parking lot adjacent.

Bânh Mi? Bânh You! - Jenny Mai Fast Food

Jenny Mai Fast Food

424 W. College Ave.
Los Angeles, CA 90112
(213) 617-7638
CASH ONLY

Info on Yelp


[Note: this post has been edited to update the restaurant's name following a change of ownership.]

Between our matinee subscription series at Disney Hall, Sa's garment district shopping needs, and the seeming endless cycle of jury duty, we find ourselves downtown at lunchtime a lot. Lucky for us, this means FOOD. Of course, within ten minutes of the Civic Center there are loads of options, from the delights of Little Tokyo to the dim sum and seafood palaces of Chinatown. But you don't always have time for a full sit-down meal at lunchtime. One of our go-to tos for a quick grab and go is a handful basketful of taquitos from Olvera Street, which I discuss here. But lately we've been availing ourselves of the splendid and little known (outside the foodie community) Vietnamese sandwich they call bânh mi. Bânh mi literally means "flour roll" in Vietnamese: it's a baguette. You wonder why a baguette is an authentic Vietnamese culinary item, but as soon as you ask out loud, you'll remember that the French were colonizing Vietnam as early as 1850, and some elements of French cooking entered their cuisine.

So, a bânh mi is simply a sandwich made with Vietnamese ingredients on a light baguette. The ingredients are as variable as any sandwich, but you'll find a few common items: a choice of protein (maybe bbq pork, pork skin, chicken, ham, tofu, or more exotic stuff like head cheese); usually mayonnaise, sometimes with garlic; a slaw made of pickled daikon, shredded carrots and fish sauce; and cilantro, jalapeños, or cucumbers. Many of the "special" bânh mi combination sandwiches -- think Italian sub -- also come with a light smear of pate at the base of it all.

Yes, it's as delicious as it sounds, and surprisingly light. The bread is airy thanks to a high rice flour-to-wheat flour ratio, but still pleasantly chewy. My favorite bânh mi, the bbq pork with pate combo, is rich and savory at its heart, but lightened and brightened by the sweetness of the carrots, the tanginess of the pickled daikon, and the zip added by the cilantro. The sandwiches are nearly  footlong, but it's entirely possible to eat the whole thing without feeling overfed. You'll see bânh mi offered at many Vietnamese and Vietnamese owned Chinese restaurants and delis in Chinatown; there are no doubt serviceable ones scattered throughout L.A. I find myself on La Cienega Blvd. quite often and have sampled a couple at Absolutely Phobolous. But our favorite sandwiches are at Jenny Mai's Fast Food (until recently Rainbow Bakery; ownership has changed but staff, menu, and prices remain the same) located in an alley-like strip mall that, unusually for Chinatown, actually offers free parking with validation.

Order your sandwich at the brightly neon-lit counter from the numerous pictures on the wall, and the freshly made bread is toasted for you, the sandwich assembled to order. Eat at one of the small tables or, as we usually do, take it over to the lovely garden outside Disney Concert Hall for a picnic.

The other excellent news is that bânh mi are generally inexpensive: Jenny Mai''s are a measly $2.95.

The lasting influence of French colonization and American war in Vietnam is one for historians to debate. But at least all of that misery and death had one pleasant result: it led directly to the multicultural culinary phenomenon of expatriates bringing tasty, tasty bânh mi to Southern California.

Perfect Lunch Special — Sushi Go 55

Sushi Go 55
333 S Alameda Street, Suite 313

Los Angeles, CA

(213) 687-0777
www.sushigo55.com
Google Local Info

Sorry for the absurdly long delay in posts; Thanks for keeping me in your RSS feed and your thoughts. Aside from surviving the holidays, sticking to New Year's resolutions, and finishing revisions to a novel and a play, I also spent a lot of time working on a longer foodie piece about all the streets in Los Angeles named after U.S. Presidents. It includes notes on Tito's Tacos, Mel's Fish Market, and a few other choice spots; you will also find out just what culinary delights Bush Way (yes, it exists) has to offer. Please check it out, and comment on it, lest NFT think I have no readers!

I also lost a couple of weeks to the Performance of my Civic Duty, serving on a criminal trial jury downtown. I got the dubiously warm holiday fuzzies by sending a kid -- who I'm quite sure was a gang-banger, but was clearly NOT proven guilty by the overworked and under-resourced DA -- back home to his momma for Christmas. I also had the perfect opportunity to sample the delights of nearby Little Tokyo.

It's a four-block walk from the courthouse to the heart of downtown's Japanese enclave; just far enough to work up a bit of an appetite. Since I was stuck on a two-week trial, I determined to try a different place for lunch every day. On Day Two, (after yet another mediocre experience at Suehiro -- some people like it, I think it's pretty skanky, and not in a good way) I was going to splurge and take myself to food crazy favorite Sushi Gen. Think a-gen! The line out the door was absurd. So I kept walking. There is, after all, a lot of raw fish in Little Tokyo. I found myself in the odd, sleepy quintessentially Japanese indoor mall on Alameda between 3rd and 4th. The third floor is a veritable Pacific Rim of restaurants, including a couple of excellent ramen houses. But it was too hot for soup that day (one of those 85 degree days in December. Curiously, I blame Al Gore). So I took myself to Sushi Go 55.

Never more I will never darken the door of Sushi Gen. At least, not for lunch. Sushi Go 55 -- aside from its oil saving, global-warming stopping name -- serves possibly the best value sushi meal in town. I know, I say "sushi lunch special" and you think, yeah, all the cuts of sushi I really don't like -- lox, a rubbery shrimp, a bite of an omelette, some flavorless tuna, a soggy California roll -- for $14.00. Not here. At Go 55, ten bucks -- that's right, $10 U.S currency -- gets you one piece each of tuna, albacore, yellowtail, salmon (okay, there's salmon), and snapper (the last three with a brush of light and delicious ponzu sauce, the yellowtail with a bit of wafer-thin shaved onion), a blue crab handroll, miso soup, a wee cucumber salad, and a couple of even wee-er side dishes. And the quality of the fish isn't "value" at all. It's fresh, perfectly chilled, and tender... a delightful antidote to a blazing hot winter day in L.A.

I went back to a couple of times for the very same meal. Each time, it simply, reliably, and cheaply kicked ass. Between Go 55 and my discovery of T.O.T. the following day (more about that in my next post!), I never actually made it to any other lunch spots.

Seriously, Little Tokyo is almost enough to make me want to serve on a jury again.

Not.

Little Tokyo Rose - Daikokuya

Daikokuya

327 E. First St.
Los Angeles CA
(213) 626-1680
Open til 2:30 am
Closed Sundays
MC VISA AMEX

Google Local Info

We haven't been to Little Tokyo yet, have we?

You know you're living in one of the Great Cities in the World when you can go to your nearest Metro station, hop off the train at the Civic Center station, look at the Frank Gehry-designed landmark concert hall 2 blocks up the hill, check your tickets for the starting time of the world-class orchestra concert that night, decide you have time for a bite, and walk a couple of blocks into an enticing array of some of the best down-home Japanese cuisine this side of Okinawa.

If you have a good nose for grilling food, an eye for a crowded room, and/or have read this article, you'll probably duck into Daikokuya.

Here's the dish.

Along the East side of First Street, just below Main (1st and Main is, by the way, where all street number address radiate outward from in L.A.'s grid), there is a line of small, authentic Japanese eateries. Noodles, sukiyaki, sushi, each has their specialty, and all the ones I've tried are good. But my current fave is Daikokuya.

You enter the Japanese-typical fabric shrouded doorway, and at first it just looks like another hole in the wall noodlery: red naugahyde booths along one wall, a small open kitchen bar, and a single window table. A single chair sits in front of the doorway with the waiting list. You sign in. Maybe you wait a bit. Now you look at the decor. It's all vintage, post WW II collectible art: beer posters, airline adverts, little toys still in their boxes. The waitress all wear distinctive blue do-rags. The whole place strives to re-create the feel of a 1947 Tokyo restaurant.

That's just cool.

And the food is terrific. The way to order here, assuming you're hungry, is to select one of the "combinations," as pictured above. For about ten bucks, you get a giant bowl of their house Daikokuya Ramen, and your choice of various rice bowls with protein-of-your-choice toppings. You'll be brought a cabbage salad (not pictured), the cabbage shredded more finely than usual, the dressing light and tangy. A perfect amuse-bouche.

The house soup is their pride and joy. Made from pork bone and soy sauce that boils for an entire day before serving, the stew features bamboo shoots, scallion, a specially marinated whole egg, and tender, thin slices of pork on a base of perfectly toothsome ramen. It's a rich, creamy stew, perfect for insulating you against the chilly walk back up the hill to Disney Concert hall... a real comfort food dish. You'll want to taste it "as is" before you begin altering the flavors with the chili powder or crushed garlic from the condiment tray on your table. This is the best ramen I've ever had.

The accompanying rice bowl is your choice of pork, beef, tempura shrimp, tuna sashimi, teriyaki chicken or teriyaki eel over rice. I haven't worked past the shredded pork, which is grilled to perfection, slightly crispy and caramelized on the outside, tender on the inside, mixed with scallions and pickled vegetable. But man, I think I'll try that eel teriyaki next time.

You can also just get the ramen soup by itself, for $7.50. Wash it back with green tea (to keep you awake during the adagios at the Disney Hall) or a $2.00 draft Kirin (if you plan to sleep through 'em), and you can't imagine a more satisfying meal.

And if you've seen Memoirs of a Geisha and have, like me, fantasies of hot Asian chicks in down and dirty postwar garb, you'll have a satisfying dessert here, too.

Meet Okonomiyaki -- Haru Ulala

Haru Ulala

368 E. 2nd Street
Los Angeles, CA 90012
(213) 620--1120

Google Local Info, including map, directions, and more reviews

My friend Kent spent a lot of time in Japan a few years ago. When I launched LA Food Crazy, he immediately e-mailed to ask if I had come across anyplace that serves okonomiyaki. I'd never heard of okonomiyaki. It was, he said, his favorite meal in Japan.

For Kent's birthday, he demanded okonomiyaki. He sent me the results of a Google search which had turned up four places that serve it in the LA area, and asked if I'd finish up the research and pick a place.

I said sure. After a full morning's research I had discovered... that there are only four places in LA county that serve okonomiyaki. Two are in Torrance (sorry, not driving there on a Saturday), one is in Westwood (Korean-operated... not necessarily bad, but not likely to be very authentic either).

And then there was a place I'd never heard of, Haru Ulala, near the south end of Little Tokyo. We were going downtown to visit the display of Oscar-consideration costumes at Fashion Institute of Design and Merchandise (an extraordinary yearly event, btw. Anyone into movies, costumes, or both should check it out), so Little Tokyo it was.

Turns out Okonomiyaki is worth the search, and Haru Ulala is my new fave J-town destination.

The place is just a half dozen banquettes, configurable into different sizes by clever sliding room dividers. Perfect for large-sized groups. Interestingly, though okonomiyaki is listed on their website, it doesn't appear on any of their confusing array of three different menus.

This is Izakaya-style Japanese food... which is to say, bar food. The Japanese equivalent of chicken wings, potato skins, nachos, and fried calamari, or perhaps more accurately, of Spanish tapas. All the items on the three menus are inexpensive, small plates of snack food.

We were totally stabbing in the dark with our order, but did pretty well once we got past the slimy "shredded yams," which dripped with a snotty goo; a decidedly un-Western aesthetic that the mild, jicama-like flavor failed to overcome.

Everything after that was fantastic. The grilled calamari with shiitake mushroom, thin strips of squid browned in butter with small, delicate shiitakes, was still being discussed days later. A small stewed pork rib was fall-off-the-bone tender. Fried soft shell crab served with ponzu dipping sauce was as light and tender as I've ever had. Fried cheese was as far from the mozzarella fingers at TGIFriday's as you can imagine.

But we were here for the okonomiyaki. In a couple of the other local places it's a make-it-yourself-at-the-table operation at, like shabu shabu or Korean BBQ. Going DIY would terrify me with this recipe. You can get an idea of how the operation should go here. To see how it can go horribly wrong, scroll about 2/3 down the page at this delicious-looking archive of Daily Gluttony -- a terrific food blog, btw. At Haru Ulala, okonomiyaki is mercifully prepared in the kitchen. We ordered two, one for the vegetarians at the table, and one seafood version.

How to describe okonomiyaki? It's somewhere between a pizza, a pupusa, an omelette and a latke. Shredded yam, cabbage, egg, flour, and your choice of ingredients get mixed up, grilled, flipped like an omelette, then slathered with a sweet brown sauce and drizzled with mayonnaise. One came with writhing bonito flakes on top -- a subtle flavor but a freaky image. Don't try eating this on acid. (Or... do. ) The fluffy eggs, crisp cabbage, and julienned Chinese yam (slimy goo thankfully cooked away in this version) provide a variety of textures that still doesn't overwhelm the ingredients you choose for your "pizza." The brown sauce and mayo help pull all the different textures and flavors together into a savory, creamy goodness.



Sound like hangover food? It is. It's rich, sweet, comfort cuisine perfect for a rainy night (if we ever have one of those again in L.A.), yet leaves you feeling surprisingly light and healthy. Wash it back with beverages from their extensive list of beer ($8.00 pitchers of Kirin) and soju (including an array of Japanese sojus, which are much more intense than their light, slightly sweet Korean counterparts), and it's hard to imagine a more satisfying and fun group meal.

I have read one or two mentions in other reviews of uneven service. Not for us! Our server Sayuko, aside from being take-her-home-and-keep-her adorable, gave us some of the best service I've had in recent memory.

And seriously, somebody out there needs to capitalize on the untapped okonomiyaki market. A stand specializing in this stuff next to a popular dive bar in Koreatown would make a fortune.

Walking the Walk -- Taquito Talk

Cielito Lindo
23 Olvera St. E
Los Angeles, CA 90012

(213) 687-4391

Juanita Cafe (Juanita's)
20 Olvera St. E
Los Angeles, CA 90012

(213) 628-1013

La Noche Buena
12 Olvera St. E
Los Angeles, CA 90012

(213) 628-2078

See links below for further information.

The very first restaurant I remember visiting, at age 3, was the venerable Lupe's in Thousand Oaks. I was three years old. I had a hamburger. On my next visit I had taquitos, and I've been hooked ever since. Lupe's waitresses used to wager on how many taquitos I could down during a meal. They usually lost. Not long after, my culinarily-challenged mom discovered the frozen Mar-kes brand taquitos (before they became "Marquez" and changed their recipe much to the worse) that came six to a box, complete with a frozen baggie of the unique creamy avocado puree that seems only to appear on taquitos. I was perfectly happy to have 'em for dinner three times a week, and mom was happy to fry and oblige.

So when I heard a few years ago about the "world-famous" taquito joint at the bottom of Olvera Street, I had to check it out. And Cielito Lindo is certainly famous. Their website claims Orson Welles, Rita Hayworth, and Marlon Brando as enthusiastic -- albeit dead -- regulars. There's almost always a line there, and while there are some token other items on the miniscule menu, everyone's ordering taquitos, including me. But after years of performing quick "drop me off and drive around the block" maneuvers with my wife to procure them anytime we were within three blocks of the place, I got curious about the other taquito joints that line the East side of Olvera Street. Last week, I decided it was time for a taquito walk, just to make sure I was really addicted to the best taquitos on the block.

I love Olvera Street, for shopping, food, the swirl of mexican trinkets and clothes, the competing mariachi bands, and the genuine history at the heart of the city. Starting at the bottom of the hill, on the corner of Alameda and Cesar Chavez, is Cielito Lindo itself. A shack, a decaying sign, a counter, dudes rolling up piles of shredded beef machaca into fresh tortillas and dropping 'em into two big, wok-like deep fryers, a couple dozen at a time, serving 'em up fresh, hot, and perfectly crispy at the edges. There are two or three indoor tables, but this is street food, best eaten sitting on the brick planter wall right across from the shop. The taquito is like a mexican hot dog in that it has only three ingredients: meat, container, and sauce. But the sum is greater than its parts. Cielito Lindo's are undeniably delicious, and frankly closer in vibe to my old Mar-kes frozen favorites than what you'll get if you order a taquito at a restaurant. These have no salsa fresca, no chunky guac, no finely grated white cheese, and certainly no fuckin' sour cream. If you must taint your taquito, get the "combo" that comes with beans and cheese, and put a little of the smoky red salsa picante on your paper plate.

The Cielito Lindo taquito itself is almost chewy. The meat is sinewy and subtly seasoned. The sauce is tangy, and so thin that it's hard to believe it came from an avocado. It coats the slender golden-brown taquitos like hot green candle wax on a supermodel's fingers. You can't eat just two; I prefer them the way Mar-kes used to dish 'em up: by the half-dozen.

But on this day, I settle for two, and move on up the street.

Juanita Cafe, a few doors up, has people buying stuff besides taquitos, but taquitos are still the top item on their menu. As they should be. The differences between Cielito Lindo's and the fried rolls of goodness here are subtle, but noticeable. The machaca is a little more adventurously seasoned, and simultaneously fluffier and more substantial. The fried tortilla fights back a little, but isn't as downright leathery as the one down the road. And the sauce, the all-important sauce, is a scoche tangier, slightly thicker, with a little more of a kick. And a fiery salsa rojo similar to CL's is available for you heat-seekers.

I'm here to tell you that Juanita's makes the best taquito on Olvera Street.

Next up the street is El Rancho Grande. Same deal here: a wider range of menu items, but taquitos still get prime billing. Now to non-taquito lovers, no doubt all taquitos taste alike. But for me, this one just kinda sucked. Flavorless tortilla, average beef, and sauce that was over-whipped into a sort of avocado meringue. Not unlike the knockoff crap from those companies whose frozen taquitos, sadly, replaced Mar-kes.

Next up, La Noche Buena (ah, remember the delicious and festive Christmas beer of the same name from Dos Equis? No longer available in this country... I've asked) showed real promise. The taquito shell fried up a little bit flakier that the others... not chewy at all, but light, almost reminiscent of an eggroll skin. Nice. The sauce, too, was more complex: closer to guacamole, with visible bits of cilantro swimming in it. Add a little salsa verde with big chunks of onion and cilantro from the giant bowl on the counter, and you've got an attractive set of taquitos indeed.. But the final result was disappointing. The slightly acrid taste of overtaxed cooking oil -- or perhaps less-than-fresh machaca -- spoiled what was the best-looking taquito of the bunch.

Then there's Rodolfo's, the last taquitoria at the top of the street. And here, humble reader, I've let you down. I miscalculated my taquito intake on the way up the street, and was just plain too full to sample their deep-fried tubes of glory.

The waitresses at Lupe's would be very, very disappointed in me.

But perhaps it's a boon for you. You don't want to hear my take on EVERY taquito joint on Olvera street do you?

So do me a favor. Go to Rodolfo's. Let me know how it is.