Taco Tour #9 - Gish Bac - Los Angeles

I rarely let a single dish decide a restaurant, but Gish Bac’s Barbacoa Roja is all I need to know.

The consommé is a bright red balance, strong with chilies and savory like drinking meat. The meat itself has a stronger gamey-er finish and slides off the bones in clumps of shredded bliss, actively falling apart as it moves. There's a warm tortilla to wrap it in, some salsa to add the heat, and with a cool squeeze of lime and a dab of cabbage slaw, it will be the best thing I've eaten this year for quite some time.

TLDR: I ate barbacoa made by LA's barbacoa queen, and believe me, she's earned all the worship she gets. 

Taco Tour #8 - Tacos 1986 - Los Angeles

The less fine dining I eat, the less fine dining I want. LA is a city of street food, though most of it is brick-and-mortar. Still, Tacos 1986 is best consumed standing, best eaten fresh from the fire at one of their tiled bar counters. If you need a celebrity endorsement, they have a framed photo of Biden on the wall. 

A mere $5 will get you the secret-menu Perron, where a hand-rolled tortilla is covered with a crackling layer of queso to cradle the carne asada. Impossibly soft pinto beans cling to a dab of guac, and each item is exquisitely made. 

Delicious but I prefer my simpler street tacos by the bunch. Theirs are small enough to try one of every kind. 

The Chicken is meh. Well-seasoned, yes, and also very savory and tender, but what else? This is LA; you can’t just slap some breasts on a grill. 

Carne Asada is king; this meat chews as a tender steak should, beefy bits of juicy bliss. 

Wash it all down with a super-sweet Hibiscus Agua Fresca and take a bite of the placid Pastor. The spice mix is mild but savory and you can see that the sliced-off-the-spit pieces are glistening with dripping juice. 

Mushroom tacos are my new curiosity, and these did not disappoint. The texture is meaty, though the soup tends to spill. 

The carne asada is what you order here. Take every opportunity to wrap it up with the thin and chewy and not-so-corny handmade tortillas, and for your tacos, order no less than five. 

Taco Tour #7 - Mariscos Jalisco - Los Angeles

To try this location of the Mariscos Jalisco truck, you have to really want to try this location of the Mariscos Jalisco truck. Parked along a madhouse major street running through a neighborhood of nothing good, you risk getting rear-ended by pulling behind the truck or risk getting run over by a lingering-left or over-eager-right turner as you cross at an uncomfortably wide intersection.  

But I think LA cuisine was built from the stuff of the streets, and these iconic Shrimp Tacos are worth any risk. I love the crunch of this hard shell that vibrates inside my skull, and I love the experience of eating it next to a total stranger with my plate perched on the ledge that runs along the outside of the truck. It’s a balancing act between the backless stool and uneven sidewalk, but it’s all part of this most delightful experience. The tortilla is fried hard and strong, so strong you lose the more delicate bread-and-shrimp stuffing inside. There's a rich contrast of textures with gooey avocado on top and a watery tomato sauce all around. It adds up to an unforgettable experience, and although it's far from perfect, my mouth will never forget those 15 minutes. 

The Fish Ceviche is a cold contrast to the intensity of those tacos, a balanced mix of fish and tomato. The fish is a little bit fishy, but it's still good overall. 

Mariscos Jalisco took LA by storm with its crispy shrimp, and there is something indescribably beautiful about it. It’s perfectly imperfect, and those tacos are a reminder of how great that can be. The fish could have been fresher, the balance could have been better, but everything together was better than good, and sometimes that’s the best. There are better taco places, including several along my taco tour so far, but Mariscos Jalisco was by far the most fun. 

Taco Tour #6 - HomeState - Los Angeles

Still chasing tacos with unending enthusiasm.

Next stop: Homestate. Uniquely Tex-Mex, love it or hate it, Homestate serves this conglomerate cuisine with subtlety and style. 

True Tex-Mex is a rare find this far from the Lone Star State, and Homestate hails straight from the source. Briana Valdez is a native Texan transplant whose Austin cuisine adds another layer to LA’s already-rich diversity. 

The ingredients are pasture-prime, often organic and ethically sourced. “You’re only as good as your ingredients,” said many a chef, and the three-ingredient Blanco is one such example. Juicy shiitakes add the savory to a melty Monterey Jack on a bed of fluffy egg whites. Slather on the salsas for sweet tomato and biting tomatillo.

Less is more when you have a thick paper-thin (no, that’s not a typo), house-made flour tortilla. That chewy texture contrasts the tender inside, especially in the Trinity, with its soft scrambled eggs and chewy bacon. Home-fry potatoes and shreds of slightly-sharp cheddar cheese break up the denser bits of egg. 

Breakfast is a gentle start, and the lunchtime proteins pack more punch. An assertive achiote marinade makes the Chicken squawk, the hotter bites cooled by cabbage slaw and guacamole.

Picadillo is salty ground beef in all its juices, potatoes, carrots, and cabbage slaw, perked up by pickled jalapenos. It's not bad but it’s a bit much, and it’s my least favorite of the bunch. 

The Potato sounds bland but it's filling and rather refreshing, best for hot, humid days. The potatoes are crunchy and crisp, jalapeños add much-needed acid, and guac is always welcome. There could be less sour cream. 

Simplicity is special at Homestate, and it really is about appreciating every part. The tortillas are as good as they get, the eggs are the eggiest of eggs, and every ingredient tastes fresh off the farm. I'd easily eat their tacos again, but I’d stick with the breakfast options for best results.

Cobi’s - Santa Monica

Just the idea of take-out from Michelin's newest Bib Gourmand makes my heart flutter, and I swear it skipped a beat when Cobi's appeared on Doordash. The food travels well despite the distance, and those soup-stews pair perfectly with pouring rain.

The first thing I notice is that they charge Santa-Monica prices for Santa-Monica portions, which means you get noticeably less than South Bay likely due to the exorbitant overhead. The Green Papaya Salad for example, is a lighter option. A sensible portion for an appetizer, the container is maybe half full. It’s a fresh salad, a balance of savory, spicy, and sweet. The papaya packs plenty of crunch, and the chili dressing is spicy but edible. 

I can appreciate smaller portions but wtf is this? 

Beef Rendang for $22 in a container barely bigger than the free side of sauce. The beef is flavorful, deep in chilis and spice, but even with all beef, minimal liquid, and zero filler, I can’t imagine anyone happily paying this much for so little.

No complaints about the Nasi Goreng. This rich fried rice with egg is as good as any. Add pork belly for extra cost and extra savor. 

Their signature Butter Chicken is by far their best. The silky tomato masala is the consistency of cream, with tender cubes of chicken that melt in your mouth. It’s the only dish that lives up to the hype. 

Drag these chewy, tortilla-thick Roti slices through all the sauces. It also comes with its own sweet and creamy curry to dip.

The portions are small but the food is rich and filling. Three people ended up satisfied with no leftovers but no hunger pangs either. I don’t know enough, (actually, I don’t know anything), about Laotian food to comment on authenticity, but if this is it, I want more. Good, it is, Bib Gourmand, I’m not so sure. Good food but definitely not good value for the price. 

Farmshop - Santa Monica

Millennials may have killed the retail market, but Brentwood’s brick-and-mortars stand strong in a world where online shopping reigns supreme. 

It’s no surprise this wonderland of well-curated whimsy still caters to the deepest desires of all who dream of beauty, within and without, stomach-deep and skin-deep as well. 

While I refuse to buy a candle that smells like anyone’s vagina and don’t cook well enough to indulge in kitchen comforts, there’s plenty of gourmet food for all, if you’re willing to pay the price for culinary gold. 

Even on a Thursday, Farmshop requires a reservation and our early arrival has us waiting for our table. Only half the tables were occupied at any given time so I would have appreciated at least an offer to sit down and sip on some water. 

The food is good. Great ingredients grind a grainy Avocado Hummus. Earthy chickpeas are sweetened by creamy avocado and finish with a chunky, nutty sprinkle of pistachio. Smear sumptuously upon strips of lavash for pre-meal perfection. 

Pulp Fiction had the $5 milkshake, Farmshop has the $26 sandwich. The House Made Pastrami puts tender meat between two surprisingly smooth slices of rye, balanced by an ideal amount of kraut and the perfect punch of mustard. A sweet n’ tangy side of slaw is just right between bites.

Good, straightforward food, stuff you’ll feel good eating. You’ll leave full, not stuffed, at a cost that is not unsubstantial. A lovely place for a weekday treat or a weekend wandering but a bit too luxe for a regular stop. 

La Paz Restaurant - El Segundo

Ah, here’s that middle-of-the-pack Mexican food I remember. Those super-affordable, super-comfort-food, multi-item combos made to be half eaten and saved for the next day as sustenance for a minimum-wage high schooler or perpetually broke college student.

The cheese enchiladas are classic, softened by red sauce and almost indistinguishable in texture from the fragrant rice and runny refried beans.

A thick burrito is almost half carnitas, simply-seasoned soft shredded pork. Very savory, a product of patience and time. 

The “Chile Relleno” isn’t the deep-fried cheesy pepper I expect, but I don’t dislike this gooey gravy-like mix of very tender pork and poblano. 

Good stuff, best before or after a night of drinking. It’ll hit the spot if it’s what you’re craving, but it’s pretty interchangeable with any other immemorable Mexican place.