Antojitos la Chiapaneca - Tulum, Mexico

There is literally nothing that can make me feel better after that Isla Mujeres disaster-tour. Absolutely nothing on this planet...wait, is that pastor?

Antojitos la Chiapaneca specializes in street tacos, most notably al Pastor. Strips of pork parade around a spinning, shimmering spit, as a small fiery furnace chars each slice of glistening gristly glory. These tacos melt in your mouth, putting even pork belly to shame, and suddenly my nightmare day is barely a memory.

The Carne Asada is another option. The steak is tender with ready juice, and it's one of the best I've had, but there's no real reason to stray from the pastor.

Get any meat in a Torta if you don't want the taco mess, but pay the extra for the melted queso on top. The pastor savors up the soft, toasted roll, a porky pleasure in every bite.

The pastor at Antojitos la Chiapaneca is the best thing I've eaten in Tulum to date, and it's also the cheapest. 130 pesos (that's less than $7 USD) buys 12 tacos and a torta as well as a couple of glass-bottle cokes, and had I known we could eat this well for this cheap, I would have come here for dinner every night.

Isla Mujeres Catamaran Tour - Amigo Tours Mexico - Tulum

A booze cruise with the best view in Cancun. Sounds like it's too good to be true and in many ways, it is. 

From Tulum, this tour starts with a 7 AM pick-up. It is painfully cold and dark as we cab to the giant gates of Dream resort. Indifferent guards stop us in our tracks as only paying guests are allowed inside their towering gates. We the peasants will await our tour van under a straw-thatched bus shelter in 50 degrees of Fahrenheit misery.

We grabbed muffins from Bean Bagz Cafe last night, and I am eternally grateful for the crumbly Coffee Muffin comfort that keeps my blood sugar up during these trying times.

The Mixed Berry Muffin is pretty great as well. It stayed impressively moist without losing a single crumb of flavor all night.

At long last the van arrives. The driver exits, squinting against his own headlights. "Who are you?" he shouts, a bit too loudly. His eyes are red and appear a bit glazed, and I hope it's from lack of sleep rather than a stronger spirit. I point to my name on his list and I present my voucher, brightly backlit on my phone. "MAKE IT BIGGER, I CAN'T SEE!" he shouts. At least five times. It has not occurred to him that no one in their right mind would freeze outside at this hour without a voucher.

We finally hop on, and I make a mental note to ask the tour company to get his vision checked. We watch apprehensively for the next three hours, as the names of every resort between Tulum and Cancun passes by. We drive through three different sprawling resorts to pick up the remaining guests.

Three hours in a van has me seething - this is the kind of thing they should tell you about in the tour description. Before we can escape, the driver announces, "Don't forget to tip your driver!" And suddenly everyone forgets. I would have tipped him to not be my driver.

Herded like sheep through a Disneyland-style line, we mill inside to pay an additional port tax, which they find impossible to include in the price of the tour. Some scammers waste more time selling organic sunscreen, claiming you can't go into the water with regular. 

The catamaran ride is beautiful, and things look up when we finally get aboard. The sun emerges eventually, and the crew keeps the drinks coming. 

They drop us off in a tourist containment area for lunch, but hey, the food is included and it's not half bad. 

The Pibil Fish tastes just fine in a tortilla with a side of rice and beans.

There's a Pibil Chicken too, and it's a solid white meat chicken which not too dry.

Back on the boat and on to the real Isla Mujeres. The beach is beautiful albeit crowded, and the streets are lined with tourist-trap shops selling all sorts of want-but-don't-needs. 

There's a clear sky and more drinks all around on the way back. The crew dresses in drag and throws down harder than we can imagine, and with a view like this, I almost lose my desire to file a complaint.

Alas, I have more complaints than praise. Once we reach the Cancun shore, we once again board a 3-hour van with plans to dump us in front of Dream, which is a busy highway in the middle of the night, not a cab in sight. Our driver, Angel the angel opts to take us back to our hotel, an inconvenient 40-minute round trip out of his way when we voice our concerns. We don't forget to tip him. 

I could almost recommend this tour for those looking for a smooth sailing out of Cancun. But if you're already in Tulum, there's no reason to leave. Isla Mujeres is beautiful, but IMHO Tulum beaches are better, and despite an enjoyable catamaran crew, most of this tour is tourture. 

Mur Mur - Tulum, Mexico

Mur Mur, the Tulum stronghold for Baja's Diego Hernandez Baquedano of World's Best fame, is a must. Whether you're swaying on the bar swings sipping a crafty cocktail or gorging at a dimly-lit table in the back, you're bound to be blown away.

Their signature Mur Mur is a warm-up drink that captures the heart and soul of its namesake. Mescal muddles with tart passion fruit and tonic water, and basil adds a refreshing lilt. Laid-back like the vibe, a subtly brilliant brew.

Justin orders the pink La Flor. If there is a pink drink on the menu, he will order it, but this one is hardly in error. The gin is bold against a mezcal backdrop, and hibiscus adds a pretty angle to the hell-raising hot pepper and smoke.

Starting with a Scallop Ceviche, the menu continues to impress. The scallops are tender little nubs nestled with heirloom tomatoes full of fresh air, grazed by squares of mango sun. 

The server tells us that Yucatan Pork is the best in the world. Their pigs have more flavor, and in this dish, I believe it's true. A thick cut pork belly tastes like it's been braising for days. The soft shreds are blanketed by melting fat, and there is a semi-sweet tomato-pumpkin sauce, an ancient Mayan recipe that tastes like untouched earth. It has similarities to mole but carries more sweet and less of the famous darkness. Put it in a glass and call it a cocktail. I could just drink this stuff!

The Catch of the Day is a buttery grouper, irresistible on a bed of charcoal eggplant puree. Everything on this plate is seductively scorched, conjuring the depths of the hearth, and the grouper finishes unexpectedly with recado negro, a creamy scoop of actual ash.

The Roasted Plantain ends our adventure, a banana-boat of sticky chaya syrup, smooth-sailing on sour cream. Not at all sweet, and crunchy cacao nibs add an earthy tree-bark texture to a well-executed dessert.

Don't pin all your hopes on Hartwood when you head to the Zona Hotelera. Mur Mur is more than match for Tulum's most overrated restaurant, and I dare say their dishes are superior in both creativity and complexity. When in Tulum, make time for the menu Mur Mur. They will not disappoint you.

Mivida - Tulum, Mexico

People are always surprised to hear that I went back to Tulum. "So soon?" they ask, "but didn't you just go there?"

I'm surprised myself. I'm so novelty-oriented I can't eat the same meal twice in a month. The world is so full of new places and yet, here I am, two weeks shy of a year later, going back to where I was.

We trudge in from a red-eye, after a frugal but grueling journey on the ADO. Our bags are deposited at reception while we wait for our room, and we've got time to kill. We sit down next door at Mivida because we're too hungry to hunt.

There is no view like this one.

The food isn't equal to the view, but we're hungry and it'll do. The Salmon Tartare could have had fresher salmon - this one tastes a bit fishy, which the mustard doesn't hide. Avocado is always a welcome addition, and the ones in Tulum are always ripe.

Points for creativity in the tapas. The Stuffed Squid is a new one for me, and the giant squid makes a pretty tender husk. The shrimp inside are sheltered from the flames so they also stay soft. The eggplant works as a texture but finishes a little too bitter, and with the mint it gets weird. Fortunately, a thick layer of aioli acts as a universal unifier. 

They get props for homemade pasta, but the Maltagliati "Polipo" is a smidge undercooked and could have boiled for another minute or two. The octopus is right on, and the pesto rocks. 

I can think of worse ways to start a day, and Mivida isn't it. The view is divine, and the food is close enough. Too pricey to eat here again, but overall not too bad.

Salt & Straw - Venice

This shop is like the Bernie Bott's every flavor beans of ice cream, minus the gross ones. Everything in here looks amazing, and their constantly-changing chalkboard boasts of ice creams in so many flavors, from the best of the classics to all sorts of creative. 

Sometimes you just want a good waffle cone filled with your favorite. The Salted Caramel with caramel ribbons isn't shy on the salt, and the salty augments the sweet. It's a manageable level of richness, a lap-of-luxury scoop that has you lapping up every scrap. 

I sampled the Olive Brittle Goat Cheese, and it was spectacular. The goat cheese is a sleek backdrop for salty hints of dark olive, a daring combination of creamy polish and robust boldness.

Like the olive, you have to be in just the right mood for the 24 Blackbirds Lavender Truffle. The chocolate is not-so-sweet, and the lavender exudes a ballsy fragrance.

The Avocado and Oaxacan Chocolate finishes earthy and damp. The avocado weighs heavy, blending with a somber cocoa. Together they brighten their darker notes, for a mix that reminds me of sunshine on grassy dew.

Salt & Straw, I knew I loved you before I met you. I forgive you for your line-out-the-door-at-all-hours Abbot-Kinney location, and I love all your creativity. The variety of never-seen-before flavors that make me say "WTF" in the best way possible is impressive, and believe me, I've seen a lot. Salt & Straw, you're a winner, keep winning.

MTN - Venice, Los Angeles

I'm back from a long vacation, and THIS is what I come home to. Ugh, no thanks. 

I had high hopes for MTN, and after the Grilled Saba, I really thought I would enjoy this place. The saba is fleshy and raw in a rich, almost-creamy way. The yuzu ponzu adds a snappy citrus, and the fish holds none of mackerel's fishy sting. I hate mackerel, but I loveloveLOVE this.

The Wagyu Beef Heart Skewer has an exceptional savor and a perfect tenderness that's hard to achieve. Meat of this quality can stand alone, but a little salt wouldn't hurt. 

The skewers and small plates are tiny and they cost a pretty penny. The prices are vexing, but hey, it's Venice...or so I thought. This is an awesome, downy-soft Charred Japanese Sweet Potato in miso butter. The sweet potato is great, and it doesn't even need the butter, but seriously, $10 for a single sweet potato the size of half an avocado?!? Per ounce, that's practically a low-end truffle.

The Black Sesame Tantanmen is just MUD. A bowl of expensive, salty mud. I think the broth would have been rich, and people with palates I respect have raved about it, but this brackish batch contains so much salt that it tastes like a puddle.

We were sharing the tantanmen between three people and not a single one of us could muster more than couple of bites. Still, we weren't about to let it go to waste...except they "don't allow" take home boxes for noodles and literally took the food that I paid for out of my hands. Their excuse was that the noodles get soggy when they sit in broth for too long, but I don't appreciate being told I can't take my property home. They could have at least packed the noodles and broth separately.

The Pork Bone Ramen is pretty good overall. The broth barely scratches the surface, but it has a smash of citrus that adds an interesting angle. The chashu is perfect, and I love the soft sear on it, but it tastes a little weirdly high-end for ramen. Not bad at all, but I can get the same level if not better for half the price almost anywhere but here.

My experience can be summarized in 3 simple words: Venice gone WRONG. So very, VERY wrong. The food isn't good enough for the prices they charge, and you could spend an entire Benjamin and starve. Not to mention the absolutely unreasonable 20% service charge that comes automatically included. I loathe tipping and am a huge fan of standardizing service charges, but 20% is quite presumptuous. 20% is what you tip for exceptional service, and for MTN to assume that the slow, condescending service we got deserves 20% is an insult. If you want my 20%, then at least let me take my food home. But don't worry, MTN, this will not be an issue because I will NEVER eat here again.

Still Life Cafe - Independence, CA

To quote the wise words of Game of Thrones' Syrio Forel, "What do we  say to the god of [dinner]?" 

"Not today."

Not today. Because this family-run paradigm of a French bistro has irregular hours, open when they say so, open because they said so. It's so hard to time the trek from Torrance to Reno just right, and we've been too early or too late every time we cruise through Independence. 

Not today. Today we roll in to an "open" sign and empty tables, and a friendly family comes to greet us. Carlos follows closely behind, and he is already the best part of our experience; this cute, well-fed canine companion watches with adoring eyes as we peruse the menu.

The French Onion Soup is a formidable staple, and theirs the best I've had since Petit Trois. The consomme is robust, and the gruyere funnels big flavors into its oven-crispy crust.

The Escargot is imported from France, and each tender little snail is the real deal. They soak in little hot-tubs of garlickly butter, and the flaky pastry puffs on top soak up all the leftover juice.

The Moules Marineres are a most special special, and every single mussel is impossibly tender, like it was caught to order. I've never had a mussel feel like it was melting in my mouth, and it's incredible that this huge bowl didn't have a single bad one. The sauce is a stunning white wine, thoroughly infused in every bite, and it's good enough to drink.

The Croque Madame is like everything else they make. Classic and simple. Simple like the perfect grilled cheese your mother makes after a long day of sledding...a reference most southern Californians probably won't understand. It's the comfort of a fire, an infallible combination of gooey cheese, salty ham, and a warm, runny egg.

It's perfect. Everything about this place is perfect. It's the life's work of a sweet family of awesome chefs, and it's the kind of food that transports you the fields of France without a ticket. It is undoubtedly the best thing between here and Reno, and I'll be timing every road-trip to swing by Still Life Cafe at dinnertime.