Eating LA

Machos Tacos (Los Feliz)
A five minute walk from Machos Tacos takes you to Frank Lloyd Wright's warm, beige, brick ode to the West, the Hollyhock House, complete with a panning view of the LA metro valley. A thirty minute uphill climb takes you to Wright's Ennis Brown House, a toweringly dramatic behemoth of a fortress, built with immense stone bricks, that looks like it might fit in more in 1115 AD Guatemala, and offers an even more ridiculously entrancing view of LA. Both look more like temples than houses. On the way up to the latter you'll likely site innumerable multi-million dollar homes, from expensive haciendas with Spanish tiles, to charming little alpine wannabes with thatched roofs and fairy tale chimneys, to sleek, ultramodern creations of geometry possibly populated by androids. And if you still want more, there's a nice view of Griffith Observatory from the intersection of Los Feliz and Catalina.

Machos Tacos, on the other hand, is not much to look at, at first at least. Sitting on the corner of Vermont and Hollywood Boulevard in Los Feliz, the stand counts as its neighbors a car wash that's so close you suspect it's operated under joint ownership, a Starbucks across the street, and a wave of strip malls. You place your order after looking at what amounts to a relatively large menu, perched above the order window, that includes a long list of burritos, tacos and combination dinners (arriving with rice, beans, guacamole, and sour cream). At first glance, while taking money out of a caddy corner Bank of America, I thought I would have to grab my food and be on my way. A short twist around the counter, though, revealed a somehow tranquil courtyard submerged below a trellis of flowers. Somehow, with traffic whizzing by and a steady stream of noise from the car wash, I found a certain calm and enjoyed a dense, doughy burrito, stuffed to an extent that it easily ripped and spilled a well cooked stew of beans, cheese, carrots, chicken and onions onto my plate. Not that burritos are meant to be eaten with forks. But I made an exception for this one.

Nem Nuong Ninh Hoa (San Gabriel Valley)
Broken rice is such a scam. What functions as peasant food in Southeast Asia, tiny shards of rice discarded from the rest of the pack for their truncated qualities and sold at a lower premium, is actually more expensive than their fully formed counterparts in the USA. Kind of like paying more for health food. This being said, the chicken with broken rice dish at Nem Nuong Ninh Hoa is a moderately and appropriately oily, suitably spiced lunch or dinner option that I have paid extra for on at least two occasions. And I'll have no issues doing so again.

Zankou (Hollywood, Pasadena)
The mutabal at Zankou is in its own league among the adequate menu of wraps, plates and side items. It may be my favorite single item in LA, at least in the realm of things I would most want to have an endless bowl of as I watch a football game. There's a characteristic smokiness to the product that begs the question of why the owners don't offer a complimentary beer the same way a snooty pub might with good cheese. The chicken wraps, coated with just the right amount of a suitably potent garlic sauce are pretty good as well. As are the pickles. And the tabouli. But make sure you try the mutabal.

Ebisu (Little Tokyo)
Ebisu is a sub-city of Tokyo (or maybe Tokyo is a meta-city partially composed of Ebisu) in which, a short walk from the central train station, one finds a more than adequate collection of tastefully shy nightspots tucked in little streets that wrap like dragons, signaled by glowing lanterns and word of mouth, restaurants that hover when you walk by. Ebisu, the restaurant, is nothing like this. Gaudy fish adorn the walls. The centerpiece is a 12 foot ship replica that functions as a table setting for a rectangular table. And the food is...just ok: all too creamy California rolls seemingly devoid of avocado, cold and sterile steamed broccoli and carrots served as part of the dish, decent grilled salmon, and a monstrous, table-consuming sampler boat that was perhaps a good example of the lack of wisdom in trying to do too much...chicken, beef, tempura, salad, vegetables, and sushi. I was kind of puzzled by meal's end.

In n Out
In n Out, outside of California, holds the sort of reverence that is reserved for the Goo Goo clusters and the Olympia's of the world, cheap and convenient regional thrills that are essential parts of any visit to anywhere that you can get it. In an aspiring foodie mind, In n Out becomes a sensual fever dream of carnivorous delight, forever displacing any desires for the bourgeois McDonalds, Burger King, Checkers, or even Milo's, if you've ever spent any time in Birmingham, AL. At least that's how I felt in the years leading up to my first visit. In retrospect, I kinda wonder what all the fuss was about. I can see the appeal, in some ways: a clean and streamlined operation that produces a clean, streamlined burger with a grilled onion option, cholesterol free fries, and a cute little half open package for the burger. We eat with our eyes, or our brains, right? But is In n Out really any tastier than the triumph of minimalism found in the Wendy's Double Stack. The food is fine but, in a world without fat and cholesterol, it's very possible I'd take a Double Stack. And I would certainly rather Milo's.

La Huarachito (Lincoln Heights)
Mexican greasy spoon on Broadway. The kind of sunny, urban, well-trafficked spot that you're quite sure, upon the first look inside, local Mexican families approve of. Framed culturescapes of Mexico adorn the walls and they might be called tacky if they weren't so unbelievably right. Tacos arrive with the regular garnish of cilantro and tiny, diced onions on smog colored tortillas. Plates are pretty standard, but a nice lunch nonetheless.