Believe It Or Not -- Carl's Jr.

Carl's Jr.

Bazillions of locations

www.carlsjr.com

Odd -- perhaps even shocking -- that my re-entry to the blogosphere after a long hiatus  should be about a formerly right-wing Christian apartheid-supporting fast-food joint with one of the more obnoxious ad campaigns in television history.  If this seems out of character, you're partially right.  I find all that stuff abhorrent.  But hey, the supremely evil, gay-hatin', John Birch-lovin' founder Carl Karcher was ousted as CEO years ago, and he died in January, and when it comes down to it, it's all about the food.  And for my taste, Carl's simply makes the best fast food burger out there, always has.

I've always had a soft spot for Carl's. It was my first job, during my junior year in high school. I washed trays, I took out garbage, I made fries, finally I got promoted to the burger line, where I learned intimately about the design and construction of the Carl's hamburger.  They are flame-broiled, and that's how I like 'em.  The buns on the Famous Star and Super Star are sesame-seed, and that's how I like 'em.  The lettuce is leafed, not shredded, and that's how I like 'em.  Don't get me wrong, In-N-Out's fine, but their plain bun, griddled patties, and prosletyzing soft-drink cups just aren't my type.  Plus their limp fries truly suck. 

In addition the burgers, Carl's has also had some kick-ass alternative sandwiches.  I still lament the loss of the California Roast Beef Sandwich, with its swiss cheese and ortega chile.   I celebrated my last day of work at Carl's by eating three of 'em on my employee discount.  Fortunately there is still the Santa Fe Chicken Sandwich, which is just plain delicious, with that spicy special sauce and the selfsame ortegas.

But what got me wanting to write up Carl's here is their new Chili Cheeseburger.  Yeah, the one with the totally gross commercial of the guy with chili all over his face.  For some reason I expected that the burger would be built on Carl's oxymoronically smaller "Big Burger" (formerly the Happy Star), so the first time I ordered one I got a double: a freakish amount of food!  The burger's built on a Famous Star base, with a big beefsteak tomato slice, sliced (not chopped, another big burger preference of mine) onion, pickle, and mustard.   And the double is based on a SuperStar with chili.  If you know the SuperStar, you know that's two meals' worth of burger even before adding chili, which brings it up to a whopping 1050 calories and 61 (count 'em!) grams of fat.   But face it, you're not getting a chili cheeseburger for the health benefits. 

What makes a chiliburger is the chili itself, and the Carl's version is unexpectedly excellent.  It's finely-ground beef in a tangy and surprisingly kicky sauce; entirely comparable to the chili at the Original Tommy's.  And given that the burger at Tommy's is griddle-cooked on a plain bun... well, I know it's just a matter of taste, but I am willing to utter the ultimate heresy: I think the Carl's Chili Cheeseburger is BETTER than Tommy's.

Let the flaming (or in this case, the flame-broiling) begin.

One last note: I won't bother explaining the no-posts-for-months thing. Suffice to say I've been busy. I hope you'll take a trip over to www.jesswinfield.com for the latest news and some very nice early reviews of my first novel, coming to a bookstore near you July 8, and available now for pre-order online from Amazon and Barnes and Noble.

Oh, and one more last note: I'm thrilled to report that my favorite political blogger is back raging against the machine from a new site.  Check out http://blyspace.blogspot.com.

Better Than It Sounds -- Lu Gi

I'll get to that hot pot in just a sec, but first, I have a big...

LA FOOD CRAZY ANNOUNCEMENT

The release date for my first novel is set. Mark July 8 on your calendar!

MY NAME IS WILL: A Novel of Sex, Drugs, and Shakespeare, from Twelve Books, is the tale two William Shakespeares: one, the Bard of Stratford-upon-Avon at a randy age 18; the other of Willie Shakespeare Greenberg, a slacker and would-be scholar in 1980's California. Christopher Buckley, author of Thank You For Smoking, has called the book "Utterly delicious, original, witty, hilarious and brilliant. Shakespeare In Love on magic mushrooms."

You can PRE-ORDER IT NOW ON AMAZON.COM.  Or, wait 'til a signing event near you this summer.

Read more about the book on the publisher's website, here.  Be sure to check out my essay "Behind the Book." 

Thanks for your attention during this shameless self-promotion. Now on to the food.

Lu Gi
539 W Valley Blvd
San Gabriel, CA 91776
(626) 457-5111
Open Daily 11a.m. - 12a.m.
MC, Visa
Google Map and Info



It's my first post of 2008 (been busy... did I mention I wrote a novel?), so I've been thinking back on 2007. Frankly, I'm glad to see its sorry ass in the rearview mirror. Good things happened; bad things happened. Is it just me, or does the good and bad always come together in bunches? The saying that it never rains but it pours is true enough, sometimes. But just as often life is like weather in the tropics... dumping rain one instant, blazing sun and blue skies the next.

It's the yin-yang thing.

Which is a long intro to a dish I've been meaning to write about for months, the yin/yang hotpot at Lu Gi in San Gabriel. In foodie circles, the hotpot craze peaked a few years ago, but most folks I know still haven't experienced it. This is still my favorite version of it, and it's worth the trip to San Gabriel.

In fact, it's extraordinary that I have yet to post about a single restaurant in the San Gabriel Valley. This is L.A.'s true Chinatown, with more varieties of regional Chinese cooking than can be found anywhere west of Hong Kong. You pull onto San Gabriel Blvd., and the smells of garlic and chili oil hit you like a truck, wafting out of the uncountable noodle houses and BBQ's and Sichuan joints. Lu Gi is just another in a string of brightly lit, functional strip mall eateries with big formica tables and a cooler filled with beer and sake and soju at the back.


For those unfamiliar, the hot pot is a Chinese and Mongolian version of Japan's Shabu-Shabu. You order large platters of thinly-sliced, raw meat: sirloin or ribeye beef, pork, pork belly (misprinted "pork believe" in the menu -- I DO believe!), chicken, tripe, whatever you like; and/or vegetables: mushrooms, cabbage, leafy greens, several varieties of tofu, several varieties of noodle.


A pot of boiling broth is set on your table. What sets apart the Sichuan hotpot is the spiciness of its broth. Whereas Japanese shabu shabu broth is mild, in many places just water that slowly becomes a broth as you cook your various meats and veggies in it, Sichuan hot pot is, like all good Sichuan, kick-ass spicy, a rolling boil of volcanic red chili oil and Sichuan pepper. You can get the "spicy" version of the hot pot, or if, like me you're feeling more yin/yang, you order the "yin/yang" hot pot. It comes in a specially-designed stainless steel pot with a divider down the middle. In one half is the wickedly spicy brew... in the other, a soothingly mild, savory white sesame broth.

You grab the raw bite of your choice, and dip it into the broth to flash-boil it. Tender beef only takes five to six seconds to cook. It's just a quick "swish-swish" (shabu-shabu, in Japanese) of the chopsticks. Tender greens take thirty seconds tops; a thick tofu cake a few minutes.


When your bite is cooked, you dip it into some ponzu or sesame seed sauce on the table, maybe take it with a little rice from a small stainless steel bowl, or maybe put it atop some noodles you've boiled up, maybe sprinkle it with some scallions. It's fresh, steaming, hot, tender, delicious.



Whether you're a sensitive palate afraid of spicy foods who just wants a comforting bowl of your favorite protein in a mild broth on a winter night; or whether you're a heat-hound with a head cold you want to blast out of your system; whether its good times or bad times; whether you're feeling yin or yang... a trip to Lu Gi is the perfect way to start off the New Year.

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.