Can You Stand It? – Ricky's Fish Tacos

Ricky's, from the South. Don't blink.

Ricky's Fish Tacos
1400 N Virgil Ave
Los Angeles, CA 9002
twitter.com/rickysfishtacos
Yelp Info

If you haven't heard of Ricky's Fish Tacos, you're obviously not a foodie (they've been singing its praises for over a year now). You also haven't spent seemingly half your life trying to find a fish taco of Ensenada quality here in Los Angeles. But my friends... you gotta check this out.

A couple of years ago, shortly after the opening of "The Best Fish Tacos in Ensenada" in Los Feliz, I posted a smackdown roundup of Baja-style fish tacos in and around L.A. My gold standard for the comparison was our favorite Ensenada taco stand, a tiny two-woman operation not far from the cruise ship dock.

Stand on Lopez Mateos and Alvarado in Ensenad

As I said in the original post:

"I decided to try to find the best approximation here in the L.A. area. The good news is that there are several. The bad news is, that for a variety of reasons, they are all just that, approximations."

Every place I visited (although I have yet to make it to La Habra for  El Taco Nazo, and probably never will) fell down on some level. The Best Fish Tacos in Ensenada, for their weird salsas; Tacos Baja Ensenada, for a mushy batter massively overfilled and imbalanced concoction; Del Taco (a surprise near-winner) for their sugary tomato salsa.

I'm here to tell you: Ricky's Fish Tacos gets it right.

"Awesome," you say, "I'm there right now, where is it?"

That's the tricky part.

Ricky's, in the best fish taco tradition, is a stand. And it's a stand that isn't even as fancy as the one pictured above. It's merely a couple of folding tables with a deep fryer on top, a bowl each of shredded cabbage and pico de gallo, three squeeze bottles of salsa, one of crema, one cooler for drinks, one cooler for the fish, a cash register, tip jar, and napkins. Three more folding tables and some folding chairs are the dining room. A couple of Easy-Ups for meager shade.

That's it.

As for the location: I guarantee you'll drive by it twice trying to find it. Best I can describe is: it's literally a stone's throw from the Vista Theater. Turn south on Virgil from Sunset Blvd. Immediately start looking to your left. There, in the driveway of an apartment building, across from the Von's loading dock, you'll see Ricky. Don't bother looking for a sign, there isn't one. Park on the street.

Business hours?  Generally, 12:30-4:30 PM Thurs-Sunday. But you'd better check Ricky's Twitter feed, as his operation is subject to vagaries of wind, rain, fish availability, and other obligations, and he sometime sells out early.

Once you've found it, all you need to know is this: Fish tacos. Shrimp tacos. Occasionally, lobster tacos, which sound exciting but aren't as good as the fish and shrimp (lobster is too delicately flavored to hold up well to the deep-frying and the batter). Order (why not one of each to start?), take a number, sit. Ricky or his assistant will prep your taco to order, and add cabbage and pico de gallo for you. You choose your salsa(s): there's a mild green, a medium smoky chipotle, and a hot red. Add a little crema. Sit and eat. (NOTE: Ricky is opposed to squeezes of lemon and lime, see why in an interview here.)

The most difficult element of a fish taco to get right is the batter. Ricky's is just right, crispy without being inimical, perfectly seasoned. The fish is arguably better than what's generally used in Ensenada. He uses swai, a freshwater Southeast Asian staple also known as Iridescent Shark or Striped Catfish. It's a fascinating critter, but all that matters here is that's mild and flaky, similar to cod but with a creamier texture, and less much less fishy than U.S. catfish. It's the perfect fish for the taco: it holds its own texture-wise, but becomes succulent with deep frying, and absorbs the flavor of the batter perfectly.

These are fish tacos as they're meant to be. Each bite is a fugue, as soft, warm tortilla gives way to crunchy, cool cabbage and fresh pico de gallo which gives way to crunchy batter, which gives way to juicy, flaky fish just as the heat from the salsa kicks in. Chew, and the elements blend in an eye-rolling crescendo of deliciousness.

Shrimp tacos nearly as good, offering a little more resistance but slightly less flavor. The shrimp taco, with smaller pieces, highlights the batter more, and there's absolutely nothing wrong with that.

One Shrimp with Salsa Verde; One Fish with Salsa Roja

My one and only gripe, if you can call it that, with Ricky's tacos is that the fish portion per taco is a little too large, leaving not quite enough room for the tortilla to comfortably contain the cabbage and pico de gallo. I'd actually prefer smaller pieces of fish, and a lower price (tacos are $2.50 each). I'd happily order three instead of two, and spend less time scooping up stray cabbage with a fork.

If you've never thought of yourself as a food pilgrim before, the type to drive a half hour or more to scarf tacos from a makeshift shanty just because they serve the best in town... Ricky's might just make you a convert.

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 2004 (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.

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/2009/

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?

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.

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.

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.

The Good News From London

LA Food Crazy in the UK

My only excuse for not posting these past two months is that I've been busy, and traveling. I recently returned from a three-week long business trip to New York, London and Stratford. I came back with many tales to tell, of Manhattan publishing houses and West End theatrical intrigue and encounters with legendary Shakespeare scholars in Shakespeare's birthplace. But for my Food Crazy readers, I really have just one, albeit earth-shattering, item to report: English food no longer totally sucks.

In London, I was ensconced at the Arts Theater in Great Newport Street just around the corner from Leicester Square, where my old Reduced Shakespeare Company partner Daniel Singer and I were directing our newly-revised version of The Complete Works of William Shakespeare (abridged) to celebrate the show's 20th anniversary. (Yes, 20th... obviously we started performing the show when we were six!) The revival is going really well, thanks for asking -- you can see the reviews from the London press by clicking HERE.

Coincidentally, the Arts was the last place I performed the show in 1992. Back then, the neighborhood of the theater was a poster child for England's well-deserved reputation for crappy food -- bad pub meals, chip shops, kebab houses, Pizza Hut, Burger King, KFC. One could take a 15-minute stroll to some decent Chinese in Chinatown; there was a Mexican restaurant in Covent Garden, Cafe Pacifico, that made a passable facsimile of Mexican food; and there was always Pizza Express.

But now, Great Newport Street is emblematic of the culinary Renaissance that has hit London. The four closest restaurants to the Arts Theater, all within a minute's walk of the 's front door are: a tapas bar; an authentic Japanese Okonomiyaki restaurant, a 50's burger joint; a Korean place with kickass kimchi-chili pancakes; and an outpost of Britain's own fast food sensation Pret a Manger.

What happened since I was there in '92? Simply put, London has caught up with, and in some cases surpassed, California for food freshness, seasonality, sustainability, and yes, even convenience. Right across the street from the Arts is one of the many outposts of Pret a Manger, or, as locals call it, Pret. As the French name suggests, it's ready-to eat food -- sandwiches, salads, wraps, and coffee -- but with a totally fresh and organic aesthetic. No preservatives, no artificial flavors, no frankenfood, no transfats... think Subway meets Whole Foods. Sandwiches are made fresh every morning in each individual store, and packaged up for the day's business -- in cardboard rather than plastic. There's no such thing as "shelf life" at Pret... any leftovers at the end of each day are given to charity. The All-Day-Breakfast sandwich of egg salad and bacon with watercress on whole wheat bread was something I took advantage of often. The crawfish and avocado sandwich -- after the addition of some much needed salt and pepper -- was worthy of the trendiest Westside cafe.


You grab your sandwich or salad from the deli freezer, take it to the counter and request your beverage -- which can include a Coffee Bean And Tea Leaf-quality espresso drink -- and you're out the door with a perfectly satisfying lunch.

My readers know that I'm crazy for Korean food, so you can imagine my shock and surprise to find a restaurant called Corean Chilli (okay, they haven't learned how to spell in the UK) on the nearest corner to the theater.


I was in like a rocket for lunch on our first day of rehearsal, and had a sublime version of the ubiquitous Korean egg-and-kimchee pancake. Perfectly cooked, and reddened through with a piquant tang that absolutely demanded something to wash it back. You guessed it: soju, just as chilled, refreshingly delicious, and sneakily alcoholic as you find it in Seoul or on Olympic and Vermont. (A bottle smuggled into the theater helped me get through the stress of opening night!) The side dishes, panchan, were a little less generous and varied than I'm used to here, but the sweet, grilled beef bulgogi and the bibimbap were just like home.

Directly across the street from the theater is Abeno Too, a Japanese restaurant specializing in okonomiyaki. Some of you may remember my earlier post about my quest, on behalf of my friend Kent, to find the Osaka comfort-food specialty here in L.A. The sauce-drizzled grilled cabbage and egg concoctions here were superior in every way to those in Little Tokyo. Made with Japanese precision and style on the stainless steel grill in front of you, the wasabi mayo and special okonomiyaki sauce were drizzed on, not haphazardly, but in a mandala-like design of concentric spirals that made it almost too pretty to eat.


Nice! Mine, with pork and scallop, two of my favorite foods but rarely found in combination, was simply fantastic.

Even Cafe Pacifico, still hunkered down in a side street, has come up in the world of Mexican food.


Mex food in the UK, even in London, used to be so hard to find and poorly executed (we're talking "enchiladas" made of a crepe filled with canned baked beans and white rice, and topped with catsup) that Sa and I would travel there from California with salsa, bags of tortillas, and cans of Rosarita refries in our luggage. (Note to self: don't drop luggage from a high place when filled with jars of Pace Picante. ) We once took a two hour train ride from Nottinghamshire just to have lunch at the Taco Bell that once graced Leicester Square.

No longer necessary. True, grocery stores still don't stock Mexican ingredients beyond boxes of stale Old El Paso taco shells and beans, but you can go to Cafe Pacifico and have a thoroughly credible Mexican meal. A pitcher of margaritas and a basket of chips with fresh pico de gallo started things off nicely. But I nearly fell off my chair when my order of "five assorted street tacos" arrived, and looked exactly like tacos I might get from a taco truck in L.A.


Good, too. Though the lamb was marred by a cloyingly sweet sauce, the carnitas and carne asada were both crispy and tender, the grilled shrimp juicy on the inside and nicely seared on the outside. The duck (foreground) was out of this world. All were garnished with perfectly authentic onion and cilantro, and a comfortingly familiar bottle of Tapatio stood on the table, ready to do its Tapatio thing.


Of course, the Indian food in London is as good as it has always been. My hosts took me to their local, Indian Ocean on Holloway Road in Islington. Look upon it and weep.




But the London culinary revival isn't confined only to restaurants.

My hosts had just finished planting a large herb garden, and treated me on my early-morning arrival to an omelette made with organic, free-range eggs, a bit of artisanal cheese, and tomatoes and herbs fresh from their garden. Their local grocery store, Waitrose, specializes in organic, sustainable foods, fresh local produce, and environmentally-sensitive household products. Even the scariest local pubs now generally serve a decent house wine -- though you'll still get the odd look for ordering it. And the week after I left, all of the UK was going smoke-free in restaurants and bars, so pub owners were nervously erecting outdoor patios and beer gardens that promised to give dreary old London a positively Parisian flair during warm weather... which, thanks to global warming, is becoming increasingly common.

But fear not, my culinary life in London wasn't all Asian food and organic veggies. I had an occasional pasty, a fish and chip or two. I even decided to re-visit the traditional English Breakfast. Turns out that those once-scary piles of pork sausage, bacon, roasted tomato and eggs make for a fine low carb repast, and now that I've swapped my glycemia-bomb former breakfast of cereal, fruit and yogurt for a more protein-based first meal, this (leaving aside the beans) was right up my alley. I even discovered that the mushrooms in your standard English Breakfast are likely some of the best to be found anywhere.



In short, this is no longer the London of greasy Chinese takeaway, gloppy pub curries, and overcooked vegetables. To my great joy and surprise, I returned from the UK a bit... just a little bit... London Food Crazy.

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.