Truck Stop

As I have mentioned previously on CCB, eating lunch was quite the ritual at my former place of employment. Not only did my colleagues take great care in choosing what type of comida in which to indulge, we were also perpetually mobile so the world (the Bay Area anyway) was literally our oyster. I have many fond memories of those days and often rue the culinary confines of my current appointment. All is not totally lost however, for I still get the freedom from time to time to drive an oversized truck through the endless calles of even more oversized ciudad. I took the advice of a food-minded coworker and coasted over to Van Nuys to dine at his favorito truck stop, the legendary Don Adrian.

The name of the game here is cemitas poblanas; the illustrious Mexican sandwich that hails from the markets and comida stands of 19th century Puebla. When it comes to variety Don Adrian's got it covered: head cheese, millanesas (breaded puerco, beef, or chicken), fried perch fillets, cattle leg cured in vinegar, lamb, jamon, and salmon to name a few. I opened the stakes with a taco arabe (another Puebla creation influenced by Mid-East immigrants) which is a close cousin of the always scrumptious taco al pastor.

This shawarma style plug is filled with piping hot shaved pork and grilled onions wrapped in a flour tortilla served with a thick chipotle sauce. Although I was sad to see it go (could have happily downed two more), my cemita was patiently waiting in the wings.

I ultimately opted for the pollo adobado: marinated grilled chicken, aguacate, panela cheese, onion, jalapenos, cilantro, and quesillo (string cheese) captured in a warm sesame seed egg roll. Doused with a squeeze of lime, this monster is as good as it looks and just outright explodes with flavor. Even the bread was perfecto (not the dry and hard cemita roll at all), slightly crispy on the outside, soft on the inside yet durable enough to keep things standing tall. I actually look forward to future work expeditions to the Valley now that I know where Don Adrian lives. So keep on the lookout Don, we'll be comin' in hot!

For all the art truckers out there, remember: don't break the art, don't wreck the truck, and most of all enjoy your lunch.

Tiger Beat

I had originally intended to string together a series regarding Bengali market comida, but due to certain time restraints I'll have to go at it piecemeal. Los Angeles is home to more than a few ethnic enclaves: some large (Koreatown), some medium (Thai Town), and some small (Little Ethiopia) that are each officially recognized by the city as areas of cultural importance. Little Bangladesh occupies a mere five blocks along 3rd street but what this barrio lacks in size is more than made up in good times. I started my expedition at Aladin Sweets and Market on Vermont where the steam table was fully stocked ready for hungry cabbies and curious wayfarers like myself. The helpful young proprietor here proved instrumental in deciphering the many fragrant dishes (all Halal) that range from Hilisha curry to Karahi beef. He also quickly sold me (against my will) on the chef's special Biryani which I ordered with a couple samosas (that he ultimately forgot) to go with it.

While this type of dish isn't really my thing (he also forgot the chutney), I imagine it would make an filling almuerzo for a tireless rickshaw driver pedaling through the dusty streets of Dhaka: Basmati fried arroz with lightly spiced carne served with lime, onions, and pepinos. The small dining room was empty except for a family of four (the matriarch giving me a mean hairy eyeball) who shortly took their leave only to be replaced by a fresh faced couple with a sprightly toddler. They were greeted by an aloof waitress (whom I had yet to encounter) and the hilarity promptly ensued. Although these good folks may have the Muslim faith in common, they most certainly didn't share any similarities when it came to language. Some of the highlights included:

"I want aloo paratha."/ 'no aloo.'/ "no aloo?" (sounding worried)/ 'no no aloo.'

"What's the difference between shammi kabab and shisk kabab?"/ 'yes, different.'

"Do you have french fries?"/ (blank stare)

 I realize that all children love papas fritas, but I'm not sure a random Bangladeshi market is the best place to score a basket of golden brown shoestrings. They then looked me over and asked: "Do you come here all the times?" To which I lied and answered: "Yeah, I like the curries." This seemed to put their minds at ease as I slipped out to pay my tab. The helpful young proprietor implored: "Did you enjoy your mutton?" (I ordered carne but that explained the depth of flavor and the odd shaped bones). He noticed the look on my face and sputtered: "You do eat lamb, I should have asked?" Mortally offended I replied: "I don't eat goats, I worship them." Actually, I just said something like: "Of course, yeah, it was tasty." I ordered dos savory pastries on the way out (one pollo one beef) which were quite delicioso later that evening with a cold cerveza. Despite all the small quirks, I have made it a point to return to Aladin ASAP but not before I check out what's cookin' down the street.

Special Forces

 

Little Tokyo is not only a great place to get a cherry haircut; it's also the new home of a ramen chain that has thus far been mainly limited to the South Bay with a couple of outposts in the San Gabriel Valley. Shinsengumi: a much needed addition to the downtown noodle scene that will no doubt serve to satisfy the hunger of even the fiercest Ronin. Named after an elite police squad of the late shogunate period (who are most famously known for preventing the burning of Kyoto), Shinsengumi likewise protects their long tradition of serving excelente Hakata style ramen. As loyal CCB readers know, this hearty regional variety is characterized by a rich, milky pork bone broth (which at Shinsengumi is meticulously checked using a refractometer) and thin, straight (non-curly) noodles.

I tallied up the signature C.P.C: Hakata ramen with crispy pork ear, poached huevo (I got marinated hard-boiled for some reason), and fried onions. All ordering here is done on a 'golf card' with rows for each member of your party to choose: ramen type, firmness of noodles, amount of oil, strength of soup base, and any omissions along with a myriad of toppings from corn to cod roe

While gawking at the patterned countertop, my steamy bowl was plopped down front and center complete with the core components: pickled ginger, cebolettas, and chasu puerco. All I had left to do was place the toppings and go to town.

Pure crackly goodness. I must admit that I may be a bit too prone to having fanciful thoughts when dining on comida such as this, but with Halloween on the horizon it seems apropos. Shinsengumi would make a robust final meal for any forlorn samurai required to commit seppuku although it would make a terrible, yet slightly humorous mess. While a more modern wayward soul might have their fill of this amazing stuff at the Tokyo location before setting off forever into the mythical Sea of Trees. Whatever you do get some Shinsengumi before it gets you...

Border Patrol

 

I once thought the center of the universe was most assuredly located at the intersection of 6th and Mission in San Francisco. Never before had I felt such insane magnetism and outright unpredictability. I now know this notion to be a folly and suspect that the true hub of the cosmos lies in a much more serene (albeit hotter) environment. San Ysidro, California, the last bastion to browse through endless retail stores before heading south into the equally vast reaches of the Baja Peninsula. Stashed away under the 905 freeway lies the site in question, a well-stocked liquor store with a parking lot host that will knock your 'swap meet' socks off and leave you dreaming for more.

Complete with a few working payphones and the ever pleasant rattle of light rail, Mariscos German must of used some sort of celestial divining rod to find where to best chock their wheels. The menu here is extensive: ceviches, cocteles, clamatos, caldos, and even some sabrosa carne asada to keep things honest. 

Whatever delectable direction you choose to take, all orders come with a spicy seafood broth that will warm up the taste buds in a hurry. Typically there is a prawn or two to be found floating in your cup, which is mostly for flavor in my opinion, but if you're starvin' como Marvin take the extra step and suck away.

For me, it seems, the intergalactic concourse is all about the tacos de pescado: precisely fried white fish in a warm tortilla simply topped with shredded cabbage, pico de gallo, and crema. It would be tough task to find a contender for these magnifico plugs on either side of the border...muy bueno. It may be that our perception of time is determined by our personal inner clocks. Being that the center of the universe is relative to our own limited travels through the ether. Er, right...I'm just glad to have pinpointed its source once again, at least for now.

Use Your Noodle

Is it truly absurd to motor 15 miles for a bowl of noodles? Not when you got the time and the traffic's right. Besides, distance driving is a sport Angelenos frequently play whether we want to or not. But more importantly, as a wise comida sage once told me, when one is faced with the promise of phenomenal noodles it is always prudent to take advantage. K and I faithfully accepted this advice and sped out to Temple City for a Taiwanese style almuerzo at House of Mandarin Noodle.

While ordering a fresh mango juice, the stern (yet meticulous) waitstaff quickly profiled us and determined that K most certainly spoke Hokkien dialect (which she doesn't) and that I, Solo Basura, should ultimately be given the option to eat with a fork. With that established, I set the wheels is motion and ordered it up.

The first item on the block was a glistening bowl of puerco wontons in a spicy sauce with crushed peanuts and chopped celery. These little bambinos cover a lot of bases: fiery flavors and juicy dumplings combine with an emphatic crunch. During my savory foray, I couldn't help but think that this dish would make an excellent desayuno and it would sure as shinola wake you up in no time flat.

Next came the sliced beef pancake (sometimes referred to as a Shandong beef roll due to its Northern Chinese origins) stuffed with carne, green onions and cilantro. I must admit that I have had better versions of this tasty creation, but I also realize it's counterintuitive to complain about anything that's beefy and flaky.

And for the finale, a steaming cauldron of delicioso beef noodle soup: rich broth (not greasy at all) with tender carne, firm noodles, scallions, and cilantro. This stuff will put a smile on your face and damn sure cure what ails ya. If beef isn't your thing HOMN has around twenty noodle soups (along with stewed cold cuts) to choose from, just be sure not to miss out. I am deeply humbled to have recalled my comida teachings in such a meaningful way: it's not the distance, it's the noodle. This was well worth the trip.

A Happy Diversion

While attempting to reach my local Italian deli for a look at a sandwich of legendary stature (later, for sure), I was abruptly blockaded by an unexplainable swarm of LAPD. This included three low flying helicopters, a dozen or so motorcycles, and an endless stream of squad cars all being filmed by a rookie cop with a smart phone. I decided not to take any chances in case they were going gangbusters towards the previously mentioned deli (which is certainly popular with the fuzz), and changed my course entirely heading south to Arlington Heights where La Cevicheria rocks gently in the breeze. This place is no secret, but the steady trickle of customers (never overwhelming) seems to make the already jovial proprietor even more elated. Walking up to the screen door my mouth started watering like Pavlov's dog when I mentally pictured my usual ceviche of choice.

The Chapin: a holy grail of tangy mixed mariscos Guatemalan style. One might presume that a ceviche recipe from a landlocked country might be a bit like buying a surfboard in Nebraska, but believe me this is some of the best that the present universe has to offer: shrimp, pulpo, crab, tomates, red onions, avocado, cilantro, fresh mint, and Worcestershire sauce served with a dynamic duo of tostadas and habanero salsa.

 In addition to a Peruvian ceviche (highlighted with red snapper and yellow aji peppers) and the now infamous chalice of Bloody Clams, La Cevicheria serves hearty Caribbean fish stews along with industrious seafood cocktails like vuelve a la vida: camarones, oysters, abalone, octopus, crab, fish ceviche, tomates, pepinos, onion, avacado, and cilantro all swimming in a saucy micro-ocean. Whatever your briny poison, this spot has got you covered. I would like to thank the LAPD for a truly pleasant dining experience and for reminding me that when you go one way I'll gladly go another. Here's mud in your eye!

Khao Soi 3: Search for Curly Gold

It's been almost a full year since my first sequel regarding the magical qualities of everyone's favorite Northern Thai noodle dish, so today I sailed over the Cahuenga pass to Sri Siam for a golden bowl of Khao Soi. North Hollywood is largely known for cranking out infinite amounts of internet pornography, but this fair barrio also hosts a decent amount of solid Thai cafes that can be just as tantalizing. Sri Siam serves all the basics plus a wide array of noodle soups (like yen ta fo sho kun: spicy rice noodle soup, fish cake, fish balls, espinaca), flavorful seafood dishes (such as crispy soft shell crab with green curry), and tangy salads (like the crispy rice salad: sour sausage mixed with crispy rice, roasted cacahuetes, ginger, green onion). However, with the focus of my comida adventure already predetermined, I ordered and waited vigilantly to get my hands once again on the savory treasure.

One curious detail hit me right away when the menu offered Khao Soi with a choice of beef or pork. As we know by now, this dish has Muslim roots and is sometimes served with carne but certainly almost never with pork. I should have simply requested pollo but I stuck with it and opted for beef. Along with a unique crispy egg noodle chopstick holder, this version came with the tipico sidecar: purple onion, bean sprouts, limon, pickled mustard greens, and a potent chili flake sauce. Once the components were fused, I set right in and experienced those joyful spicy sniffles in no time flat. During my slurping I suddenly realized that a Sri Siam bowl of Khao Soi is way hotter than any neighborhood skin flick, even on a good day. So for those of appropriate age and equal interest, here's a candid peek. Hubba Hubba.