A Sad Postscript - The El Coyote Boycott

According to several management-level sources at El Coyote, Marjorie Christofferson has submitted her resignation, both as a member of the restaurant's corporate board and as an employee. "Margie submitted her resignation today," manager Billy Schoeppner told me last Thursday. "I just got off the phone with her. She was crying."

This is the emotional result of the boycott of El Coyote launched by elements of the local gay community in response to Margie's personal, $100 donation to the "Yes on Proposition 8" campaign. So, the question is, does this mean the boycott's over?

During the largest protest against the restaurant, I asked many of the 200 protesters picketing enthusiastically on the sidewalk during prime business hours what they were after: what were their "demands" were before they would return to El Coyote? "Margie needs to resign," was the unanimous answer. So now she has. But various posts on other boards about the issue have expressed the opinion that "as long as ANY of the money I spend at El Coyote goes to the Mormon church, I won't spend my money there." It has been asserted on some other boards that: Margie is secretly the owner, because she's listed as the corporate contact with the state of California; that her family is Mormon, and because it's a family business, that means 10% of any money spent there is tithed to the church. I did some deeper digging, interviewing members of the staff, family, and longtime friends. Here's the real scoop.

"El Coyote is not Mormon. Margie's family isn't Mormon. They're all drinkers, except Margie!" Billy repeated to me over three days, over and over again. I thought this curious; Mormonism tends to run in the family. How did she end up the only one? Billy asked another manager, Larry; Larry asked Margie's husband Chris. Word came back. There were three Salisbury siblings: Blanche and the twin brothers George and Jim. Blanche and her husband founded El Coyote; George founded El Cholo. Jim married Margie's mother, Grace, and when her sister Blanche passed away, ownership of the restaurant passed to Grace. One of Margie's older cousins attended Brigham Young University in Utah, where he converted to Mormonism. Margie, at her cousin's recommendation, also went to BYU -- where she also converted. Jim (a life-long drinker and smoker) converted to Mormonism just before he died. Margie's cousin later left the church, leaving Margie (aside from, possibly, her two daughters) as the only practicing Mormon in the family.

As far as Margie's recent corporate involvement, El Coyote is run by a small, family-held corporation. Grace is its president and CEO. Margie has functioned as its Secretary. That's why she was the listed contact with the State of California. When she gave her notice as an employee, she also submitted her resignation from the board to Grace.

So there it is. Margie's out the door. I wonder who will be coming back in? The only possible rationale for continuing to boycott the restaurant (aside from not liking the food -- de gustibus non disputandem est, is I'll say about that) is that she might inherit a portion of it someday. True, she's the current owner's daughter. She also has siblings, so (and I am not, nor do I want to be, privy to anyone's will over this) maybe she'll get a piece of it someday. Is that justification for a boycott? Should your livelihood be imperiled for something one of your nieces, or nephews, or children did, or might do in the future? That seems absurd to me.

El Coyote has given thousands of dollars over the last few weeks to GLBT causes and charities. The restaurant is now -- believe it or not -- being boycotted by various right-wing groups for doing so. Mormon wards as far away as San Diego have sent groups to the restaurant in support of the restaurant's supposedly "anti-gay" policies. But of course, those Mormon's ain't drinking margaritas. Business is off dramatically, even considering the current economy. Waiters and waitresses -- many of them gay -- are having their shifts cut back.

The gay community has made an important, and nation-wide, point about civil rights, separation of church and state, and the power of the gay pocketbook. El Coyote has done everything it can -- and Margie has given up her lifelong job -- to make amends.

So could someone please declare victory achieved, and the boycott over? My local diner's in trouble.

Tidbit: Del Crispy Fish Taco

I'm going to have to start posting some smaller items, so that you my readers have material to check out more often than the once a week or less I find time to post a full review with photographs and all. So let me just say this today. Have all of you who love good cheap eats tried the $1.49 Crispy Fish Taco at Del Taco? I know, all the real foodies believe you can't find any really decent food at any fast food establishment. I beg to differ. The crispy fish taco here, while maybe not up to the absolute best you could find in Rosarito or Ensenada, is the real deal. Two flour tortillas, cabbage, a light cream sauce, pico de gallo, and a squeeze of lime. Add some Del Scorcho sauce, maybe a little guac, and you're in Baja, dude. And there's a little something extra. The "Crispy" in the fish taco moniker is no lie, but it's NOT about the shell like you might think. It's the fish fillet. And the batter has a little rice crispy-ish crunch to it that makes for one satisfying taco. While the fish itself may not be quite as fresh and light as the best of Baja, it's not the fish stick you may be fearing. Really, trust me, check it out.

Soon, I'll do a full piece on Del Taco... there are some real delights to be had here, and I'll tell you about my friend Kent's Tuesday Taco Night ritual. It's worth the price of clicking here all by itself.

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.

If Yucan't Go To Yucatan Yucan Go To Yuca's

Yuca's

2056 Hillhurst Ave
Los Angeles, CA 90027
(323) 662-1214
Mon - Sat. 9-6
Cash Only

Click here for Google Info & Map

At this moment, Sa’s cooking dinner for me and I’m sure it’s going to be delicious. But the fact is I’m still full from my lunch today. I took her to Yuca’s Tacos & Burritos, and I had to keep ordering tacos to, you know, research this post.

For those of you who haven’t had the pleasure of visiting the Mayan Riviera, as the stretch of white sand beaches between Cancun and Tulum is known -- or was until it was washed almost completely away by Hurricane Wilma -- the food of the Yucatan peninsula is memorable for two things: pork and hot sauce. The food itself tends to be mild, but the habañero- and jalapeño- based salsas served with it are blazingly spicy -- which as you know is just the way I like it. And both the pork and the salsa are available in quantity at Yuca's.

Here's the dish.

It's the kind of taqueria that makes my taste buds do jumping jacks of excitement. The kind that, as we drive past, I'll say to Sa, "That could be the best Mexican food in the world! What if it is, and we never know?" It's a scary little shack in the middle of Los Feliz village, in the middle of Hillhurst, in the middle of a parking lot. Okay, actually it kind of is a parking lot. A handful of rickety particle board tables teeter with legs half on sidewalk, half on asphalt. A dozen or fewer garage sale wedding auditorium chairs make up the "dining area." There's a blue plastic tarp strung up overhead for shade. That's it.

But did I mention there's parking?

The menu is disarmingly, charmingly small. Burritos of carne asada, carnitas, machaca, chile verde, and pork cochinita pibil (more on that in a moment) and bean & cheese for you (ugh) vegetarians. Tacos and tortas of the same, minus chile verde. Special pibil tamales on Saturdays only. There's also a selection of hot dogs and burgers -- what up wid dat?

You go to the window, and Socorra Herrera, the doña who runs the family operation, takes your order and name... she writes it down on the very paper plate on which your order will be served. This is apparently an excellent system, as it's ready seconds, not minutes, later.

Whatever else you get, and it's all good, you must get the Mayan classic cochinita pibil. This is the local specialty of the Yucatan: it's their gumbo, their deep-dish pizza, their nigiri sushi, their cheesesteak. It's shredded pork that's marinated in spices and steamed in banana leaves. Mmm, yes, it is good as it sounds, and the version here is terrific. What's in it? Achiote, a staple of Mayan cooking. (For info about it click here.) Cumin, definitely. Maybe a bit of cinnamon? Something citrusy, either orange or lemon; I'm thinking orange. Red onion. Mild chilies. It's like the best BBQ pulled pork you can imagine, only not nearly so sweet or spicy, subtler, more tender and juicy. It totally fuckin' rocks.

The carne asada is flavorful and toothsome. The carnitas... well, it's Yucatecan pork. Less unusual than the pibil, but just as tasty. The machaca pictured above, which can be uninteresting on a lot of taqueria menus, is delicious here. It obviously gets the same careful marinade treatment as the pibil. It's incredibly juicy and bursting with flavor. The chile verde is unusual. It's not the tomatillo stew that is my personal favorite food in the world (Sa makes the best version of it I know), but a pulled-pork concoction with tender stewed jalapeños that's addictive. The flour tortillas have that slightly gritty feel that I believe says "eat me" or simply, "lard!". So do the beans.

For two bucks, you can buy a bottle of either the red or green "El Yucateco" brand habañero ultra-hot sauce, or borrow one from the rickety tables, to jack up the heat once you've tasted a bite or two "straight" to appreciate the subtle flavors. Wash it back with a lemonade (the only drink on the menu unless you count coffee, milk or orange juice, which I don't) or your favorite beer or soda from the liquor store two steps away. You're in parking lot heaven.

But I'm sure most of you know about Yuca's already. It's right there on Hillhurst above Franklin. Surely you've already been there. Right? No? You'd better go.

It might just be "the best Mexican food in the world."

Where the Food Craziness Began -- Lupe's Mexican Restaurant

Lupe's Mexican Restaurant
1710 Thousand Oaks Blvd.
Thousand Oaks, CA
(805) 495-3573

Maps and Info at Yelp.com

This is the very first restaurant I ever went to. My memory of that first visit is as blurry as this dying-battery photo. Yet I do remember it, even though I could only have been 2 or 3 at the time. Lupe's used to be set back about 50 yards from Thousand Oaks Blvd., tucked into the oak trees against the hillside and painted a bright, fiesta green. I remember the screen door you went through to enter, and I remember formica and naugahyde. I think I had a hamburger. I remember a fly.

That photo is actually a painting of the restaurant during those days, that hangs on the wall at the current Lupe's.

By "current," understand that it hasn't changed significantly since that last remodel in 1966 or so. Even the black velvet paintings of toreadors lining the interior walls are the same.

I will receive comments about why Lupe's sucks, about the better Mex food even in Thousand Oaks, about how it isn't "authentic" Mexican food, blah blah. In this case, it doesn't matter. It was my first restaurant, my favorite restaurant, and it informs everything about my take on food since.

I used to go once a week. My mom would take me bowling on Thursdays. She didn't bowl, but she'd watch me, and keep score, and then we'd go to Lupe's. They had a good jukebox. I remember my favorites as "Yesterday," "Raindrops Keep Fallin On My Head," "Sugar Sugar," and "ABC", which places me there a lot in '70-71.

The food hasn't changed since then. Not an iota. And I suspect it hasn't changed much since 1947, when it became the first established eatery in the Conejo Valley. As one post on Ventura.com says, "It's as old as the oaks in Thousand Oaks."

Lupe's still serves California Mexican cuisine of that era, which happens to be what I love. Scratch that, it doesn't "happen" to be what I love... I love it because it's what I grew up eating, right here.

Originally owned and operated by a sweet and tough lady named Martha and named after her eldest daughter, Lupe's has the distinction of now being operated by Lupe herself. That's cool.

The salsa and chips are perfect, the salsa served in little metal bowls. Ground beef tacos are quintessentially SoCal tacos of the era. The Chile Colorado is delicious, smoky and intense like it's been stewing in the pot since 1947. Combo plates are just like you want 'em, big and inexpensive and cheesy and tasty.

But what keeps me coming back are the taquitos. They're utterly addictive: fresh, crispy tortilla; stringy-yet-moist hand-shredded beef; a pile of fresh guacamole and shredded lettuce on the side; finely shredded mild cheddar on top, some Thousand Island dressing, and a couple of black olives to boot.



Did they always serve it with sour cream? I don't think so; I've never cared for sour cream on Mexican food. When I was ten, I remember winning a bet with my waitress that I couldn't eat two orders of 'em (that's six taquitos) plus a guacamole and ground beef taco. She lost. If she'd been paying attention she would never have made the bet because I ordered and devoured the same mountain of taquitos every week. These are, you heard it here, the best taquitos in the world. Because they were my first.

For someone who's lived and traveled and eaten over the world, it is supremely satisfying to be able to re-visit one's first foodie love and find it entirely unchanged.

If only "Yesterday" were still on the jukebox.

My Crispy Taco Jones: Henry's Tacos

Henry's Tacos

11401 Moorpark St.
North Hollywood, CA 91602
(818) 769-0343
CASH ONLY
Google Local Info

It's been so long since I've posted! Been hunkered down, finishing the first draft of my novel. It's done, it's not perfect yet, but the word so far is good. Thanks for asking!

Despite my absence here, I have not stopped eating, nor embarrassing my wife by snapping pictures of food in restaurants and lunch counters around L.A. So I have a lot of research in the can. I hope you'll hear more posts from me in coming days.

For some reason, this fall I've been thinking about almost nothing but crispy ground beef tacos. You know, the kind mom used to make on Taco Night. Chopped tomatoes, shredded iceberg lettuce, grated cheddar, a pound of ground round, Lawry's Taco seasoning, Old El Paso shells. The kind that Del Taco or (less successfully) Taco Bell deals in.

There are many great versions of this humble taco in L.A. The most famous perhaps is Tito's Tacos in Culver City; but for me, Henry's Tacos in Studio City wins the horse race by a nose... because of the sign.


I love that sign. Maybe it's because the restaurant opened the year I was born, but that Jetsons-Meets-Shag aesthetic just makes me all glowy every time I see it.

I own the T-shirt.


Henry's perches on an anonymous corner in the Valley, unchanged since the street was dominated by big-fin American cruisers populated with guys trying to look like James Dean. The tiny menu is the kind I like, lean, mean, and focused on what the joint does well. We got beef. We got beans. We got rice. We got cheese. Chicken? Fuck off. You get your beef and/or beans in three different formats: taco, burrito, tostado (note the retro spelling), and "taco burger."


That's the only oddity here: the ingredients of a taco stuffed into a hamburger bun; a Mexican Sloppy Joe. Ain't that just the ultimate in early sixties muliculturalism?


Some like the taco burger, or the bean or combo burrito. They're fine, but too squishy for my taste. When I come here, I'm after that dialectical interplay between crispy shell and soft, savory beef that makes the hard shell taco so irresistible. Henry's Tacos ($2.40) have that in spades. The beef is mildly seasoned; it profits by addition of the little tubs of "hot sauce" (not salsa, please, remember this is 1961) that come on the side. The shell is perfectly crispy, less greasy than some other excellent hard tacos in town but not as cardboardy as either Mom's Old El Paso or Taco Bell shells. The shredded lettuce is fresh and crunchy, the real cheddar cheese perfectly sharp. The single slice of half tomato gives a tangy semblance of something healthy. If you must have a side dish, the beans, with green chile sauce added, are tasty.

But that's the great thing about a Henry's taco. you don't need a side dish. Just order another taco... and a t-shirt of that fabulous sign.

Be careful not to dribble the hot sauce on your swell new shirt.

Dining at Canyon Pace -- Abuelita's

Abuelita's

137 S. Topanga Canyon Blvd.
Topanga, CA 90290
(310) 455-8688
www.abuelitastopanga.com
Google Local Info
MC, Visa, AMEX
Extensive Vegetarian Menu

In an effort to rediscover my Shakespeare roots, I made the trek out to Topanga Canyon for a production of Twelfth Night at the Will Geer Theatricum Botanicum. Of course, Twelfth Night features a clown named Feste, Feste reminds me of "fiesta," "fiesta" is Español for party, so was there any question that I'd be going out for margaritas before the show?

Turns out one of the most well-reviewed Mexican places in L.A. is Abuelita's, about a mile and a half down the Canyon from the Will Geer, right around the corner from The Inn of Seventh Ray. I might have checked out the New Age, organic Inn, as everyone says I must do; but I worry, do they even have margaritas, and if so, do they put tofu in them?

I'll make it to Inn of the Seventh Ray one of these days, but let's talk Abuelita's. The name is a good sign: "Granny's", is a loose translation. You know that I'm all about Mex food made by grandma, not the gang youth at your local Baja Fresh, right?

The service upon entry was not a good sign. Bees were attacking their outdoor patio overlooking the creek (the best outdoor dining in L.A., according to AOL Cityguide -- as long as you don't count the horror-movie infestation of bestingered insects), so I'll cut 'em some slack. But still, our hungry party of five waited fifteen minutes just to be seated in a nearly-empty restaurant. We sat inside to avoid the swarm, but the creekside canyon ambience did seem lovely.



The first round of margaritas, the house blend, were so watery that we seriously wondered if they'd remembered to add the booze. Our waiter (cute, I'm told, by our female companions) had suggested we order the Cadillac version for a buck more, and he was right. The second round was a major improvement.

When the food finally arrived, all other concerns went out the window. The tortillas, handmade on the premises, were delightful. The chiles rellenos were delicate and fluffy, perfectly picante chiles stuffed with a generous (maybe too generous?) amount of cheese, the light tomato sauce tangy, flavorful, and not the least bit gloppy.

A grilled shrimp burrito, made mojado with an unusual lobster bisque sauce, got rave reviews. You know I love my taquitos, and these delightful fingers of deep fried pulled pork were some of the best I've ever had. The sum of gritty, chewy quality of the fresh, hand-pounded tortillas, perfectly cooked pork, and fresh guacamole added up to a thoroughly satisfying whole. Only a chicken mole soft taco disappointed. The chicken was fine and tender; the mole, a little too sweet; but the taco itself, just chicken mole with no condiment, felt like it needed another ingredient to finish it off. Onion? Scallion? Something.

Visting Topanga Canyon is a little like visiting the 70's. Life goes on at a slower pace there; but you do come away with some good memories.

Oh, and Twelfth Night, under the moon and oak trees of the utterly delightful Theatricum Botanicum, kicked ass.

The World's Biggest Feed Bag -- L.A. County Fair

THE LOS ANGELES COUNTY FAIR

Wed-Sun Through Oct. 4

1101 W. McKinley Ave.,

Pomona, CA 91768

(909) 623-3111

http://www.lacountyfair.com/2015/

Apparently people are beginning to wonder if I still blog about food. I do. The late spring and early summer were totally taken over by producing and narrating the audiobook of my novel, My Name Is Will, and taking on a bit of work with my old friend Stitch, the little blue alien dude. Apologies to those who have gone hungry since my last post in April!

I hope to make up for it spades. Read this, and you will be primed to eat more in one day than you have all summer. Because that's what you're supposed to do when you go to the Los Angeles County Fair.

I freakin' love the County Fair. What's not to love? The crowds, okay. Aside from the crowds, what's not to love? The heat, sure. The traffic going in, yeah. And the parking, fine. Aside from the crowds, the heat, the traffic, and the parking, what's not to love? There's entertainment galore, hot tub sales, real trains to climb around on, livestock to marvel at, pig races, dogs jumping into pools, ferris wheels, miniature trains, the wine and beer pavilion, and most joyous of all, a racetrack where you can wager on the ponies if that's your perversion (it is mine!), all for your 17 dollar entry fee. (Sa and I got season passes for this year: 25 bucks.)

But for me, it's all about the food. I have been looking, on Chowhound and elsewhere, for a one-stop set of recommendations to "what to eat at the LA County Fair," and haven't found it. So this year I decided to compile my own, based on recommendations and research from all over the food blogosphere, and a couple of days of my own research on the Fair's final weekend last year and opening weekend this year. I'm including exterior shots of all the mentioned vendors so you can recognize 'em when you stumble upon them.

Of course the County Fair is notorious primarily for various deep fried foods-on-a-stick. You can, it's true, have Deep fried Snickers Bars, Deep Fried Coca-Cola (to answer everyone's question of "How...?", it's frozen solid, then battered and fried), Deep Fried Oreos, Deep-fried Krispy Kreme Chicken Sandwiches, or god knows what else Chicken Charlie's will come up with as a specialty item this year. And sure, you can get a pork chop on a stick.

Take my advice: don't waste stomach space on that crap. It's as awful as it sounds. Instead, try some of this.

If you're there early, and of a sweets-for-breakfast mindset, head straight to Old West Cinnamon Buns outside the Jurassic Planet exhibit hall. The bun served here, I guarantee, is the best you've ever had. Hot, sinfully buttery, cinnamony, not too sweet, and melt-in-the-mouth soft with just enough of a bake on the outside to remind you it's there. Order dry, without frosting, which would be truly gilding the lily.

Midmorning snack, or second breakfast if you're a hobbit: a bit of roasted corn on the cob. This stuff is everywhere, all over the fair, and is pretty much the same everywhere. We ate ours here, just east of the Clocktower.

Fire-roasted on the grill, husks pulled back but still attached, a few kernels slightly charred, tender and juicy and sweet inside. Most purveyors have a varied selection of condiments. I use 'em all. Why have corn with butter and salt when you can have it with butter, salt, pepper, lime juice, garlic powder, chili powder, and seasoned salt? It's delicious, California-grown, and healthy for your colon -- you're gonna need that.

It wouldn't be a trip to the Fair without two things: visiting the animals and eating BBQ. I recommend doing them in succession. There's nothing like sharing a moment or two with some cute, snoozing pigs to ratchet up your appetite for pork.

I'm not that great an authority on BBQ. I generally find it to be either too dry or too gloopy (yes, "gloopy"), too sweet even when it has a spicy kick, and generally a killer to the subtle flavor of the meat. Last year people I was with raved about the pulled pork (or sliced pork) sandwiches to be had from the stand that proudly trumpets "Pork Butts!"

Personally, I wish the bun were of more interest, and the pork required too much added gloopy sauce to make it interesting.

This year, I went with the suggestion of a post in the helpful Fair thread on Chowhound, recommending this Texas style BBQ spot conveniently located near the entrance to the big animal barn at the Blue Gate.

Sa's pork ribs were tasty and had a nice dry-on-the-outside, tender-on-the inside-texture.

My Beef Brisket Dinner Plate at 12.95 was pretty awesome. I rarely eat all of an order at the Fair, preferring to share and split to make room for more tastes later on. But I made "all gone" with this stuff.

Flavorful, the sauce tangy and not too sweet, and the meat cooked to falling-apart perfection. Slaw, good; Corn bread, eh; beans, canned and bland. Although they do sell a brisket sandwich, $7.95, I wish they sold the sliced brisket a la carte, as they do the ribs.

Instead of the bland beans as a side order, I suggest sending someone to find an order of Tasti-Chips, available in various locations.

These are amazing: freshly sliced potato chips cooked to order. They're like no potato chip you've ever had, and no two alike. They range from light and crispy to chewy and savory, like a basket of fresh-baked cookies that have come out of the oven at slightly different, but recent, times. Douse with salt, coarse ground black pepper, maybe some malt vinegar, and consume. Arguably the best single dish at the Fair.

If chips aren't your style, and you want something a little heftier, you could opt for fried artichoke hearts, or better, some fried sweet potatoes from around the corner.

And if you're the type who likes to have dessert after lunch, just down the road in the Fair View Farms area, is Dr. Bob's Ice Cream.

This stuff is usually delicious, the perfect antidote to a hot day.

But I'm officially warning you off their sorbets. My friend had one on Sunday, and, well-- I'm pretty sure this glutenous strap-like stuff is not the consistency they were shooting for.

By this time, you've probably laid down a good base and couldn't eat another bite for awhile. Time to head to the wine pavilion, where you can sample one or several of the (hundred or so) gold medal winning wines from the wine and spirits competition. $11 gets you a tasting of five wines of your choice, and it's a great opportunity to try wines from locales and countries that you might not otherwise. My favorite this year was an '05 Adelaida (Central Coast) Syrah, rich with intense berry flavors and a chewy mouth feel. After ordering a glass of Bordeaux (a dozen or so wind=es are available for reasonable prices by the glass) and sitting out on the wine pavilion's verandah and watching bungee jumpers for a bit, I was ready for a snack.

My favorite, available at any of the supposedly "Thai" food vendors, is this New York style eggroll, with a thick, chewy wonton skin, and a simple cabbage and carrot filling, and a delightfully old skool sweet and sour dipping sauce. And don't forget to eat those innocent looking cucumbers with your roll... they're spicy and delicious.

Really, that egg roll just warmed up my appetite, kinda got me ready for -- well, another egg roll. But THEN I was ready for the big guns. I was tempted to visit one of the Pink's outlets -- an opportunity to get a Pink's dog without waiting in line for a freekin' hour! But instead I opted for King Taco, the truly great chain distant East LA -- a great opportunity to get me some. There's one in Park Square, right around the corner from the Grandstand, and another at the Yellow Gate entrance. Maybe more besides.

Tacos ordered: two asada, two al pastor, and one chicken. At $1.49 each, and washed down with an horchata from the stand or a Dos Equis from nearby, there's no better way to end the day. The carne asada is a 9 out of 10, with a light char on the outside and tender and juicy on the inside. The al pastor is, perhaps, a little dryer than some might like it, but right in my wheelhouse of toothsomeness. Pardon the messy plate; it was late, and I failed to dress the set.

One warning: that red salsa that come "with everything" is wickedly spicy. L.A. Food Crazy loves it, but then, he's, you know, crazy! Saner foodies might wish to order it on the side.

Finally, the chicken, the best of the three, a wonderment, pieces of tender, stewed chicken with juicy onions and mild chiles and cilantro in a green sauce. If you haven't had a memorable chicken taco in a long time (I hadn't) this one will remind you what the bird is all about.

Next time, I shall surely have a torta if I have room; it comes with sour cream, lettuce, onion, and guacamole (which I've never had at the King).

Oh, and if you have room for another dessert after all this, three words: "hot gingerbread." Okay five words, with whipped cream. From the Gingerbread House right around the corner from the Grandstand on Birch, and across from King Taco. You can't miss it.

I'll go back next week and bring back some more ideas and updates. Recommendations, most welcome!

I wonder if my Fair Season Pass comes with a free rental of one of those I'm-Too-Fat-To-Walk motorized cart jobbies?

Families Are Hard: Guadalupe's Place

Guadalupe's Place
5028 Melrose Ave, Los Angeles, CA

(323) 462-3329
Cash Only

Google Local Info

No, that's not a typo in the caption. The sign that says "Elizondo's" means "Guadalupe's." Read on.

About twenty years ago, I had just moved to LA from San Francisco's Mission District, and was looking for a replacement for my daily burrito fix from Taqueria La Cumbre, El Toro, Pancho Villa, La Parrilla Suiza, El Faro, and the other fantastic competing burrito joints in the few square blocks bounded by Mission and Valencia, 16th and 24th Streets. The burrito was invented in the Mission (it's true, you can look it up), so they've got 'em down, there.

I was shocked that LA, with a much higher Latino population, hadn't matched San Francisco -- at least in this one, very important regard. The first place that made me think LA might someday catch up was Anelcy's, on Melrose Blvd. one block west of Western.

Their carne asada was good (though no Taqueria La Cumbre, whence my friend Franz occasionally brings me a steak burrito, still warm its foil wrapper, when he returns home from a visit to The City), their carnitas excellent. But what made Anelcy's worth the drive across town for me was their Burrito de Vegetales.

Now I'm not a vegetarian, heaven forfend, but I enjoy vegetables as much as the next ominivore, and am just as likely to order tofu at any given meal as lamb or steak. But the vegetable burrito at Anelcy's, for my money, was the best burrito in town.

A burrito is always way more than the sum of its parts. Anelcy's was the poster child for the concept. It was just your standard big tortilla, beans, shredded lettuce, rice, grated cheese, chopped tomatos, chunks of avocado, and a fiery salsa. But it just totally kicked ass.

First and foremost, the vegetables were never unceremoniously dumped onto your burrito from a Taco Bell style prep line. When you ordered a burrito, the silent, macho dude behind the counter would take out a whole fresh tomato; a whole, ripe avocodo; a head of lettuce, and begin slicing, chopping and shredding. It actually TOOK a few minutes to make your burrito! The beans were delicious, the cheese, grated coarsely, retained some texture, the huge chunks of avocado were always impeccably creamy, and the tangy, lemony hot red sauce was such a perfect complement to the cool, crisp fresh veggies that it all just WORKED.

A few years ago, I went to Anelcy's to find the name had changed: "Elizondo's" it was called. I walked in in fear, to find that the menu board still said "Anelcy's", the prices were unchanged, and most of all, the same taciturn macho dude was still chopping up fresh avocados for the veggie burrito. The burrito was identical.

Well, I've been meaning to write it up for awhile, so today I went back to check the location and take a picture, only to find out the name has changed again. It still says "Elizondo's Place" on the outside, but inside the menu board has changed. It's now "Guadalupe's Place." And no macho dude behind the counter. Concerned, I asked the pretty young cashier what was up. "It's always been the same place. In fact," she said, "there was one more name between Elizondo and Guadalupe. But it's all in the family."

Well, I ordered my burrito, and watched for telltale signs of even infinitesimal change in Guadalupe's purveyance of its preparateion. The tomato was still taken fresh from the counter cooler and chopped. Same with the avocado-- though I think there was significantly less of it in in the burrito than there Used To Be. But the dude didn't ask if wanted my salsa inside the burrito (you do -- make sure to specify), and he doused it with some squeeze-bottle crema. I was distracted by a World Cup goal on the TV over the door, and didn't see if the lettuce was fresh shredded... I suspect it wasn't, as the burrito popped up onto the counter too quickly. The delicious fiery red salsa picante is the same... I came home with a pint of it.

But somehow, the sum of this burrito, while still greater than the parts and still delicious, was somewhat less than its former whole self. The rice (I usually order without, but forgot this time) was too prevalent, the avocado was skimpy, and the lettuce was a little limp.

I'll go back to try again, and I'd be curious to see if anyone else has followed it through all of its myriad changes of management, and has thoughts about its development. But, sadly, my long-awaited post about Anelcy's/Elizondo's/Guadalupe's place is not the triumph I had hoped; it mostly makes me crave a burrito from Taqueria La Cumbre.

Good F&ckin' Tacos -- Pinches

Pinches Tacos‎

8200 West Sunset Boulevard

West Hollywood, CA 90046-2414

(323) 650-0614

pinchestacos.com‎

Google Info

Open seven days. MC/Visa/AMEX. Free parking.

For much of my life, the corner of Sunset Blvd. and Havenhurst, just west of Crescent Heights was one of my favorite corners in Los Angeles. As a twentysomething cartoon geek, I'd make occasional pilgrimages there to visit the Dudley Do-Right Emporium, the only place (back in the pre-Internet era) where you could buy officially licensed Jay Ward merchandise. I'd load up on Mr. Peabody figurines and George of the Jungle t-shirts and worship the iconic statue of Rocky and Bullwinkle outside the doors..

Alas, the Emporium closed permanently in 2015 (though the statue blissfully remains), but I'm going back to that corner regularly again. Not to see and be seen at Bar Marmont across the street. I'm there for the stellar Mexican food at Pinches Tacos.

There is so much to love about Pinches. First there's the name. If you don't even speak that much street Spanish, well... you need to get out more, but it's translated in the title of this post. Suffice to say goes well with puta and cabron. Beyond the name, there's the pleasant corner location, where you can sit on the shady sidewalk patio and watch entourage-laden Escalades and Range Rovers pull up to the Chateau Marmont. And there's the fact that this tiny establishment offers... wait for it... free pinche parking! On the Sunset Strip, this is pinche rare and pinche awesome. Pinches is open til midnight, but stretches out to 3:00am Thursday-Saturday, for those late night post-club burrito needs.

The interior is perfect for a taco stand, and surprisingly down to earth for such a high rent location. Except for the Dayglo pink exterior with the bright blue neon sign on the side, it feels like any friendly neighborhood taqueria. Sombreros and the usual pictures of Mexican revolutionaries, artists and chanteuses adorn the walls. The menu is written on a white eraserboard, and features a deceptively simple array of tacos, burritos, tortas, sopes and enchiladas.

The food is perhaps best described as a meeting point between the Yucatecan stylings of the hip but overrated Lotería restaurants (at Farmer's Market, on Hollywood Blvd. and in Studio City) and your local taqueria. The servings at Pinches are larger, the offerings more kitchen-sink; my wife often complains that Lotería doesn't put enough "stuff" on their tacos and burritos. At Pinches, burritos ($7.50-8.95) come with the works: beans, rice, guacamole, onions, cilantro and salsa. Tacos ($2.00-2.95) come with whatever the chef thinks belongs on that taco. No overachieving salsa bar here: they give you what's good for the goose, not the gander.

Al pastor -- though a little dry for my taste; those who prefer a gooier, sweeter pork will want to go for the excellent marinated pork adobado -- comes with a sweetish red. The delicious Angus beef grilled carne asada comes with onions, cilantro and a fiery roasted salsa verde. The Veracruz style pescado comes with a well-matched slaw and an medium-spicy roja that adds a little heat without overwhelming the delicate fish flavor.

Ingredients are excellent and carefully prepared. The guacamole is tangy, chunky, perfectly seasoned; rice is fluffy, seafood items fresh and tender. Like Lotería, their rich black chicken mole is a star here, and especially nice to be able to get in that big burrito format -- with all the "stuff."

In addition to the standard taco and burrito fillings, there are California touches like optional wheat tortillas, and a unique array of unusual regional items: Oaxacan cheese enchiladas ($7.95), cactus tacos ($2.00), and taquitos or flautas filled with potato and Manchego cheese ($2.95-3.95), corn on the cob served street-vendor style, and homemade guava flan. But let's face it, you're probably getting a burrito or that 3-taco combo plate (a bargain at $8.95) pictured above.

True, prices may be steeper than your local taqueria, but hey they gotta pay the rent, and... isn't that pinche Lindsay Lohan naked in a window across the street?

And if you're like me, when you walk back to your freely-parked car, you can take a few extra steps and take a moment to bow your head to Rocky and Bullwinkle.

If Not For the Decor -- La Parrilla

La Parrilla

Three Los Angeles locations:

3129 W Sunset Blvd
Los Angeles, CA 90026

(323) 661-8055

1300 Wilshire Blvd
Los Angeles, CA 90017-1705
(323) 353.4930

2126 Cesar Chavez Ave
Los Angeles, CA 90033-1823
(323) 262-3434

MC, Visa, Amex

http://www.laparrillarestaurants.com

I've been meaning for years to make it to one of the branches of La Parrilla, consistently mentioned by local Chowhounds as one of the top sit-down Mexican restaurants in L.A. You know this is one of my favorite genres of foodie experience. A few weeks ago, I finally made it to the branch on Sunset Blvd. in Silverlake.

There is so much wonderful to say about this place. A stone-faced abuelita hand-making fresh tortillas at a station near the entrance: always a good sign. Guacamole made fresh at tableside. Also, always good. Our one fear, when we saw no bottles of booze on the wall, and wine margaritas on the menu, was that there was no tequila. Our waiter, whether legally or not, promised us tequila, and the margaritas were in fact good and strong. By all accounts, La Parrilla serves up decent versions of classic tacos, enchiladas, chiles rellenos and the like.

But parrilla means "grill" en español, and that's where La Parrilla shines. Find the selection of molcajetes and parrilladas. A molcajete is a mortar bowl usually used for grinding ingredients (like your tableside guac). Here they also come overflowing with various meats from the grill. We had the "Azteca," featuring tender, moist grilled chicken and perfectly cooked carne asada, nopalitos (grilled cactus, which I've never had before... delicious! Somewhere between a roasted bell pepper and an ortega chile), a grilled slab of mild panela cheese, and grilled scallions, all doused in a delicious, smoky, and delightfully spicy red chile huajillo salsa.

We also got a parrillada. Same idea as the molcajete, but this is served on a small portable grill that comes to your table and continues to cook, char and caramelize your food as you plow your way through it. We ordered the chetumal, an amazing array of grilled goodies: two skewers of shrimp al carbon, melt-in-your-mouth pork loin, chicken adobado, sliced red potatoes, a couple of whole jalapeño chiles. All this is served with some of the better whole beans I've had in LA (with plenty of bacon to add flavor), Spanish rice, and a bowl of melted cheese sauce to add to whatever bites you wish. Throw some of that together in your fresh, handmade tortilla, and holy guacamole, is it good. And each of the molcajetes and parrilladas serve two to the point of stuffed... at $11-15 per person, that's a hell of a deal.

But there's a "but..."

The decor sucks. It's been described as "Tijuana chic." That's being generous. The layout of the place is bizarre. You have to negotiate a seemingly endless maze of candy counters and carts to get to the seating area. The lighting is harsh. The requisite piñatas and plastic parrots look like they're beginning to rot. And if you want to enjoy your food, don't even glance upward at the nasty drop ceiling; the oozing water-damage stains and general filth and squalor there might well put you off what is arguably the best sit-down Mexican fare in town.

I'm going to have to go check out the other locations; if I can find one a little less skanky, I'll become a regular.

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.