El Barrio UPDATE - Redondo Beach

At El Barrio, I definitely prefer the taco. It’s a concise, more concentrated meat-purse in a bold blue corn tortilla. But you do get a lot more food in a burrito for not that much more money, and all of it is lip-smacking, tummy-filling good. Just find someone equally hungry to split them with so you can switch it up and try them all.

The Al Pastor Pork Burrito is so sliced-off-the-spit tender that the middle cries a little with every chew. Little bits of pineapple add a splash of citrus, and the salsas add pinches of spice to perk up the rice-and-beans-in-a-wrapper. 

I love the toasted cheese crust. It does double duty in keeping the burrito closed and adding crispy crunch to a soft tortilla. Crunch contrasts the juicy in the Carne Wagyu Steak Burrito, and the green salsa brings a mildly wake-me-up kind of sting. 

It's a rare day that I don't miss the meat, but the Cauliflower Con Mole Burrito doesn’t need it. The roasted cauliflower has a robust texture, lighter but just as filling. The mole adds an earthy depth, and I wish they’d smear some of that black magic on everything else.

I guess the birria fell off the delivery menu, but it was the best thing ever while it was there. I’m waiting for it to come back, but there’s not a single thing on the menu not worth having. The delivery fees aren’t fun, but I’d pay almost anything for one of El Barrio’s tacos. 

El Barrio Neighborhood Tacos - Redondo Beach

Five dollars for a “street taco”.

But don’t let the price deter you. These street tacos and their prices are a reasonable reflection of the street they come from, the streets of Redondo Beach. Redondo is hardly a budget barrio, and neither are the ingredients at El Barrio’s.

The tacos are the major draw, and if you try the Birria, you’ll never eat birria anywhere else. There’s no coming back from this spectacularly seasoned wagyu brisket. Each strand of melty meat is encased in a fat suspension so rich it’s like a liquid jello. The beefy savor will linger, drizzled with a salsa “emulsion”, a gentle, acidic reminder between the globules of unforgettable fat.

The Mulito is a new one for me, a sandwich-quesadilla full of juicy wagyu steak. Blue corn tortillas are fluffy and perfect, and layers of chewy cotija ooze between the sheets. Add a touch of avocado cream and sharp green salsa and you have the best Mexican grilled cheese north of the border. 

They’re not cheap but they’re worth every penny. You taste what you pay for at El Barrio, and believe me, you won’t mind paying for it. 

Holbox - Los Angeles

The service is surly at best, but if you can brave the cashier starting daggers into your forehead, it's worth the aftermath. 

Glower at me all day if you will, just give me my free Oyster. It's the best treat on a half shell, buttery brine in a salty sea. 

Fear not, the hatred at Holbox comes cheap. For a mere $110, we four are facing beautiful platters and impressive piles of the freshest seafood in LA. 

A generous helping of Fish & Uni Ceviche snakes across a plate; a feisty Kanpai is thickened with tomato, ripe avocado mollifies onions with audacity, all soaked in a bold vinegar sting. The uni is melty and sweet, perfect pieces fresh enough to taste like it's live. Pick it off the top and eat it separately, though, enjoy it one nibble at a time. The ceviche overpowers its more delicate flavors if you eat it all together.  

The Coctel Mixto is a gamble for one who dislikes tomato, but a single bite makes me a convert. The supple shrimp are spritely, the tender octopus nods in agreement, and the oysters seem to sing in this amplifying sauce. This cocktail is nothing like the heavier marinades. It floats the flavors rather than sinking in the stomach and makes this red martini good enough to drink. 

Tacos de Pulpo en su Tinta: wow, what a mess. What a gorgeous, glorious mess, a finger-licking, ink-smearing, hot, steamy mess. A perfect corn tortilla achieves an impossible level of smoothness, full of octopus fried to a crisp and braised to a melt. The calamari ink stain turns the black beans to velvet silk. 

The specials board boasts a Grilled Rockfish Collar. The broad bones conceal delicate flesh, some of it so fatty it's fish-butter. The side of beans and rice completes the set. 

The Scallops are just spectacular. Perfectly seared scallops are stunning, but that bed of roasted poblano peppers steals the show. I cannot find the words to describe the dance those flavors do on my tongue. It is simultaneously a sultry bachata and a long, slow, seductive tango.

I'm in love with Holbox, and there isn't a single thing I would change except the service. I love the casual counter set in a colorful market, and I love the heavy wooden tables with their intricate high-back chairs, a beautiful casual-cafeteria space. It's so easy to eat at ease, and with next-level seafood like this, it's easy to savor every sliver. 

Zengo – Santa Monica

When you’re in residency, they tell you that the more time you spend working, the more you’ll learn. That’s probably true you first roll in from a scarcely-sufficient siesta. It’s still true while you watch a noon-conference powerpoint, lunching on knowledge that fills your brain just as much as that Styrofoam tray of cafeteria food fills your belly.  It stops being true somewhere between hour #20 and hour #24 of a 28-hour shift. No matter how much sleep you think you go overnight, you start to feel like you took advantage of the bottomless Bellini at Zengo’s unlimited lunch, and all that food for thought becomes about as easy to stomach as the tourist-town that surrounds the Santa Monica Pier.

Residency entices with the fountain of knowledge while the menu at Zengo promises the fountain of unlimited drinks. Sure, the balance of every ingredient in every dish is about as off as anyone who’s had a couple pitchers of bottomless booze. But in the delirious, sleep-deprived mind of the post-call resident, the sheer amount of learning justifies the hours, and at Zengo, the “quantity over quality’ approach actually makes sense in the context of drunkenly justifiable gluttonly.

Let’s start with the good news first. The Grilled Achiote Salmon was decently cooked with a passable ponzu and a crunchy bed of broccoli. Mediocre at best, but it’s a crowd-pleaser like Santa Monica’s famous Ferris Wheel – a safe, not-unpleasant choice that most people can live with.

But where the salmon was a little more subtle, the crude chunks of barely-seasoned chicken of the Thai Chicken Satay is about as Asian as the Bungalow crowd is down-to-earth.

Ever seen me without sleep? I get Angry Zengo Roll, and anything I say is as impossible to understand as the tuna is to taste. I think my brain takes on the rubbery texture of the Jamon Omelet, a dry egg sleeve with chunks of canned ham and grocery-store grated cheese.

At my hospital, more than half the patients speak Spanish. I’ve made an honest effort to learn, but my medical Spanish is about as authentic as the Chicken Chilequiles.  My gringa accent sours my Spanish like the mouth-puckering tomatilla salsa, and the chicken is as nonexistent as my ability to roll my R’s.

I actually liked the steak and kimchee combo in the Steak Benedict, but the dry biscuits overpower the stingy serving of steak. The Bacon Fried Rice hits the spot like post-overnight hospital-cafeteria breakfast sausage - salty with a side of grease.

You don’t go into residency for the lifestyle, and you don’t go to a tourist town like the 3^rd Street Promenade for gourmet goods, but when you watch a sick person get better under your care, the victory dances tenderly on your tongue like the Bay Scallop Ceviche. Swallow that with a bottomless Bellini on an outdoor rooftop in sunny Santa Monica, and your flute will always be half full. Any way you sip it, Zengo’s $35 for all you can eat AND drink is a steal, even if it’s about as palate-pleasing as Panda Express. 

Loco for Orinoco - Boston

Orinoco and I were star-crossed lovers. But the good kind, not the Tristan and Isolde kind. No one died. That's all the explanation you're going to get. I walked by Orinoco so often, and I tried to go to Orinoco so often, but I always caught it on a night when it was too full of other dining suitors or closed after a heartbreak. I finally ventured over on a steamy summer night with the roomie, and thus began the love affair of legends.

Our affair started with the Tequenos, which, like most affairs, are such a bad idea they're good. Cheese egg rolls dipped in ketchup conjures the image of a smelly bachelor sporting a dingy beater living on canned beans, but a crispy crunchy fried-wonton-like wrapper with chewy cheese dunked in chipotle ketchup with a kick becomes a Latin luxury. My roomie describes them as Spanish mozzarella sticks, but that does them no justice - when has anyone chosen an Italian lover over a Latin one?

The Datiles are like any character from Real Housewives - so rich they're ordinary. Soft sweet dates and almonds wrapped in crispy bacon could do no wrong, but the bacon is coiled 3 times like a roll of love handles. You feel like you've been stood up because it tastes like bacon with no real date.

The Maruchuchitos are a long-term love - so familiar it’s foreign. Starchy, bread-y plantains stuffed with stringy cheese is basically grilled cheese on a toothpick to warm your winter nights, but the queso paisa has a fresher, more summery flavor of its own, and the plantains remind you that you're merging your grilled cheese with someone else’s.

The Mechada Empanadas are the best kind of dates - so cheap they’re luxurious. Inexpensive they may be, but the thick, grainy coarse-ground cornmeal adds even more layers of texture to the shredded beef, and the mixed-green salad is always crisp and fresh with a light touch of salt, pepper, and oil to bring out the bitterness of the arugula.

The dinner plates are like most men, so simple they become complex. The standard sections of rice and black beans sit alongside the sweet plantains, which hold hands with the neighboring blander starches. The shredded beef of the Pabellon Criollo is salty and savory to balance the bland and sweet. This plate has many complex parts, but together they make one authentic Latin meal, a no-frills serving with a perfect blend of spices.

The Asado Negro is another simple-yet-complex Latin meal in a dark, heavy sauce. The sides are the same, but this one is slices of beef in a sauce the color of A1. It's good but the shredded beef is better. Just get that or the empanada version. Sometimes you find a love that keeps you coming back, and the shredded beef is it.

With all its catchy contradictions, Orinoco is so wrong it's right. The dishes are so mismatched they form a set, the service is so casual it's high-end, and the menu is so disjointed it makes sense. The only thing that makes sense in this tumultuous love affair is that no matter how often I stray, Orinoco has me coming back. My affair with Orinoco is so crazy it makes sense, and though I don't pretend I possess any sanity, I can rationally say you'd be loco to refuse Orinoco.

Notable Noche - Boston

When I first approached the unassuming entrance to Noche, I half expected Riff Raff to open the tall, wooden, black door that led to the basement. The dim descent gave me a taste of how Brad and Janet must have felt in their pursuit of a phone. I already had a phone so I was reluctant to enter this underground Transylvanian mansion, but maybe they had an iPhone 5 I could exchange my dinner voucher for…

Once inside, the sleek modern décor features black walls studded with progressively circular white dots, reminiscent of the red lips that sing your impending double feature at the Rocky Horror Picture Show.

Where ever those lips got their lipstick, the nearby table of loud people shops too. That table was so deafening that we must have looked in visible pain since the staff graciously offered to reseat us without us having to ask. +1 star for sensitivity, +3 muzzles for the human megaphones. After a smooth transition to quieter seating at a lower level, we did the Time Warp of food.

Like Riff Raff’s solo, the Fried Paella was astounding – the idea was fleeting. Battering and frying a ball of paella seems like madness, but the seafood delight takes its toll.

The Tuna Crudo was so dreamy, oh fantasy free me, I didn’t forsee it, not at all. The succulent tuna was in another dimension. It was an amazing sensation, not at all sedation, and as out of this world as Magenta’s hair.

After such mind-blowing appetizers, I was all ready to do the Time Warp again with the entrees!

Unfortunately the entrees were about as original as Columbia the groupie. The Filet Mignon was a great medium rare, and the dark, flame-kissed dome of steak with a deep red pool encircling an orange island looked almost like the mansion of the Sweet Transvestite from Transexual (Transylvaniaaaaaa). The mashed sweet potatoes were lighter than air, and I devoured the dish. All that meat gave me an evil wink, and the sweet potato took me by surprise, but overall this dish didn’t get me all shook up – no pick-up truck and a devil’s eye.

The Scallops were well-seared but too salty with a fantastic carrot puree. Noche may not know how to Time Warp but Noche knows how to puree! That amount of salt was as annoying as Columbia’s voice, but no worries, it’s just a jump to the left and a step to the right, away from the salt and toward the carrots. Then put your hands on your hips and bend your knees in tight in anticipation of the dessert.

After the entrée Time Warp, the real fun begins. The Chocolate Chipotle Crème Brulee was tasty with a kick, much like what became of Janet after a brief stint with Frank. Biting into the dirty-brown chocolate, I tasted blood and I wanted more. The crème was creamy, and the after-burn of chipotle lingered.

Sorry Janet, but there’s nothing dirty about the pure white Goat Cheese Cheesecake, and I liked it so much more than the crème brulee. Nothing but clear, creamy flavor and unblemished smooth texture, white as the slip that Janet wore before Frank got to her.
I am a creature of the night, and I may be a creature of Noche as well. The food is undeniably solid, though the appetizers and desserts were by far the more interesting parts of the meal. Then again, Frank was far more interesting than Rocky but that didn’t stop Janet from having Rocky for an entrée, did it?