Some time in the spring, Sean emailed me a list of the best burgers in LA compiled by LAist. Even though Sean wanted to start working through the list, we never got around to it, at least not intentionally. We crossed off The Apple Pan as it was across the street from the theater where we saw Thor.

Earlier this month, LA Weekly posted another best burgers in LA list. Sean nudged me about it. We decided to make a dent in the list this week since we both are on vacation.

Thus, began Burger Week. After the second day, we made a spreadsheet in Google Docs and included any spot on LAist’s 2010 best burger list, 2011 list or LA Weekly’s 2011 list. Yeah, the spreadsheet is nerdy, but it made picking the next spot easier. We based our choices on type (“gourmet” vs “basic”) and location. Most of the high end burger spots are located on the Westside so we didn’t ever travel more than 6 miles.

MONDAY

Father’s Office Burger @ Father’s Office
Los Angeles (near Culver City)

FO is a familiar spot. It’s less than a mile away, but I don’t go very often as I’m not much of a drinker and it’s pricey for a burger. Still, after a few visits over the last few years, it’s easy to see why the FO burger is consistently listed as one of the best burgers in LA.

In short, it’s delicious. We both had the Father’s Office burger: Kobe beef, Gruyere, caramelized onions, applewood bacon compote, maytag blue cheese and arugula on a roll. I love the combination of Gruyere, arugula and caramelized onions. We passed on the shoestring fries (they’re good) and split a basket of sweet potato fries with garlic aioli on the side for dipping. The burger is great, but the sweet potato fries with garlic aioli are my favorite menu item. Since FO is a gastropub known for a wide beer selection, we paired our burgers with Unibroue Fin du Monde.

Heads up:
It’s not cheap, but you get what you pay for. The burger can easily feed two people with smaller appetites. FO does not do substitutions and does not have ketchup in house. This has never bugged me. The LA location gets very crowded at peak hours and you might have to stand around waiting for a table or spot at the bar to open up before ordering food. Be patient.

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Tamales are not my favorite Mexican food. They’re not even in the top five.

I used to pride myself on how few of them I could eat each Christmas season. Usually the count was somewhere around 2. I’d have one of the spicy red chile and pork tamales and one of the sweet cinnamon, pineapple and raisin ones for breakfast. The sweet ones are always best as breakfast on Christmas morning when my mom places them on a comal or a pan to toast them lightly. A savory/spicy tamal works just as well for breakfast.

This year, I’ve been craving tamales. Prior to Christmas, I’d only eaten on tamal and that bugged me. That changed last night and this morning when we had the traditional tamales and a bunch of other delicious food. Funny thing, Sean asked me if it was okay to have tamales for breakfast. I almost laughed at him. It’s not only okay, it’s condoned and might be the only thing available aside from some beans and eggs. He’s a newbie at Mexican Christmas.

The tamal tally is currently 4. Let’s see how many more I can eat.

It used to really bug me when I heard people refer to the singular tamal as tamale. It sounds wrong to my bilingual ear, but I know the English translation is tamale. In fact, my spell checker has tamal as incorrect and tamale as correct. I mentioned this to a friend once and he mentioned that tamale is closer to the Nahuatl word, “tamalli.” He reasoned that tamal was the bastardized Nahuatl term for the food we’ve come to love.

Anyway, who talks about tamales in the singular anyway? If you eat just one, you’re doing it wrong. Or you’re saving room for all the other delicious food. I can’t blame you too much.

Sean and I didn’t have much of an agenda for our NY trip. There were only a few things we wanted to do and see. Of course, some of those things were food related.

We arrived on Wednesday night and went straight to the future in-law’s home in Long Island. We were very hungry as we’d only eaten breakfast and snacks on the plane. Sadly, JetBlue stopped carrying Munchies. That was one of my favorite parts about my monthly flights to/from JFK. I actually complained about it on the customer satisfaction survey. Kenny (future brother-in-law) picked us up form the airport. On the way there he told us Mrs C (fMIL) had made a steak dinner. It was delicious. No, I don’t have photos.

A few hours later, we were ready for dessert: Dunkin’ Donuts. LA transplants, especially those from NY, have a lot of valid reasons to complain about LA. One of those is often the lack of DD. We used to have DD, but the donut market was already saturated with mom and pop shops and Winchell’s. Although you can’t go to a DD in LA, you can buy a gift card at drugstores or grocery stores. Sean ate a few vanilla donuts. I tried a few of the season flavors (pumpkin, apple spice), but my favorite is still the simple glazed donut. We had DD a few more times on our trip.

On Thursday night, we went out to dinner with friends for Filipino Food Nite at Tito Rad’s in Queens. I missed the first Filipino Food Nite, but was glad for the second. We ate family style and had several dishes including: fried calamari, lumpia (yum!), chicken adobo, pork adobo, sisig, pancit, tuna, and plain white rice.

The Meatball Shop was the only restaurant on our to-do/see/visit list. We went on Friday afternoon, our first day back in Manhattan. Luckily, there was no wait. I had the special, the chile relleno meatball. It was less spicy than I expected and they were a little stingy with the perfectly spicy tomatillo salsa. I tend to load my tacos with cilantro, and was sad that it could barely be tasted in the meatballs. I had butternut squash with ricotta and candied walnuts on the side.

On Friday evening, we attended a birthday party at the Mercury Bar. The bar is two doors down from Pizza 33, which Sean recommended. Rather than eat at the bar, we stepped out for Ziti pizza. The pizza was too dry, adding red pepper flakes helped. It wasn’t the best pizza I’ve had in NY, but it was certainly enough to fuel some drinking and dancing.

On Saturday night, the future in-laws hosted a small engagement party. Although Sean’s met most of my extended family, I’ve only met his parents and brother. Mrs C did a great job cooking up a variety of Jamaican dishes for the party. I’m not too familiar with Jamaican food. I’ve had a few typical dishes (e.g., beef patties, jerk chicken, oxtail soup, red beans and rice), but still have a lot to learn. The menu for the party included: jerk chicken, jerk pork, BBQ ribs, fried chicken, mussels, salmon, oxtail soup, a paella-like seafood and rice dish, a few different types of rice, mac n’ cheese, green salad, beef patties, saltfish and crackers, and green beans. I know I’m forgetting something.

Despite filling up my plate twice, I didn’t get to try everything. There was a lot of food leftover which we ate for the next couple of days. My favorite was the very tender jerk chicken and jerk pork. It was quite spicy (much more than the one Sean occasionally makes).

I washed this all down with some wine and later some very sweet and potent rum punch and rum cake.

I gave up meat for Lent. I chose meat over sweets because the former seemed easier. I’m still eating fish, seafood and eggs, so it’s basically like every day is a Lenten Friday.

I’ve never gone so long without eating poultry or red meat. It was a bit challenging initially. I wasn’t eating enough protein and was hungry all the time. Plus, I was still training for the marathon and I worried that the change in diet might negatively affect me. It didn’t.

After the first couple of weeks, I’ve adjusted to the new diet. I miss meat, but not too much. There have only been a couple of instances when I really wanted meat. One was when I was right in front of the taco stand at my family’s fundraiser. The tacos de pollo, al pastor and carne asada smelled so good. It didn’t help that I wasn’t interested in any of the meatless options. A second was after the marathon. I really wanted a cheeseburger but settled for a salmon burger.

I miss meat more out of convenience. When I cook, I usually make something with chicken or beef. If I don’t have time to pack anything for lunch, I typically make a turkey or ham sandwich, or I grab a Trader Joe’s microwavable meal. Those usually have chicken. I’ve tried TJ’s vegetarian microwavable meals and they’re either not satisfying or just taste bad.

The best part of this has been trying out new recipes and cooking some things I love but never make (e.g., tacos de papa). Over the weekend I made El Chavo’s veggie mole. I had this at his house last year and loved it despite not caring for tofu. I followed El Chavo’s directions to a tee and my veggie mole was delicious. Sean even had seconds. [Note: the chilaquiles, soyrizo with papas and beans up there were made by El Chavo too. Very delicious. He needs to post up a recipe for the salsa he used on the chilaquiles.]

If anything, I know that giving up meat for 40 days is much easier than giving up tortillas. I dreamt about tortillas three times then, but haven’t had any dreams about cheeseburgers or tacos de pollo asado… yet.

Perhaps I shouldn’t have read Gustavo’s article on the dearth of comida Zacatecana in LA.

Such diversity is a natural result of decades of Mexican migration, but there’s one glaring anomaly: Zacatecas’ culinary traditions are virtually invisible in local restaurants.

This quirk belies demography. The state is to modern-day Southern California what Iowa was for a previous generation of Angelenos: a place known for its work ethic and its conservative values, and for sending hundreds of thousands of its residents to our sunny wonderland.

Now I’m hungry. Not for queso añejo (which my siblings and I always called queso de pata/feet cheese), or even asado (which I don’t really like and have never had at a wedding), but for a torta de chorizo (which I can’t have today, anyway).

My family doesn’t have a quesero, but we do have a chorisero. Every few months, we’ll get a paper bag with some chorizo links. It’s the best chorizo I’ve ever had, not the crap you buy at the store. Last time I had one, a few days after Christmas, was to prove to my Papá Chepe that I do eat.

I wonder if Mamá Toni has made any of her gorditas de frijoles lately. Those would be yummy today. Or capirotada.

Damn. I hope Mamá Toni saves me some.

I love chilaquiles. They’re so simple yet so tasty.

A couple of years ago I started a project to review chilaquiles at local Mexican restaurants. I did one review and then let the project go, but continued to eat my fair share of chilaquiles. The problem with reviewing food is that a photo is necessary, but I often forget to stop and take a picture.

On Friday morning, I was patient… at least for a minute.
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For a long time, I thought all Mexicans in the LA-area had nopales (cactus) in their backyard. Of course, my sample size was small. All my relatives had nopales growing in their backyard. We did too.

The nopales, spread out in a corner of the backyard against a brick wall, were a nuisance to us kids who had to be extra careful while playing. On the plus side, I’m sure they deterred a thief or two from climbing the wall and we were never burglarized.

For Mamá Toní, a native of Zacatecas where nopales grew on every cerro (hillside), nopales are meant to be eaten. They’re for ensaladas and guisos. They go excellent with tortas de camarón during Lent and are an excellent side dish with carne asada. (I won’t even get in to the tasty tunas, or cactus pears.)

Nopales are not only on our frentes, they’re in our tummies too.
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“I’ve never had a bacon-wrapped hot dog.”

My friend almost choked, even though he wasn’t eating anything at the time. He coughed and gasped for air.

“What?!” he finally exclaimed.

His reaction was as incredulous as Diego’s and everyone else’s in the comments to my Obama town hall recap.

Yes, I’ve lived in LA [county, Hacienda Heights isn't in the city] my entire life and never had the desire to eat a danger dog or Salvi Dog or TJ Dog or Club Dog.

I remember my introduction to the bacon-wrapped hot dog: July 5, 1994.

I was 13 years old and caught up in World Cup fever. Mexico and Bulgaria were playing in the round of 16. I’d gone over to my friend Star’s house in Walnut to watch the game with her family. Her mom, Angelita, and tías were in the kitchen working on lunch while everyone else watched the game in suspense.

Star has the honor of being the first and only person to ever offer me a bacon-wrapped hot dog.

I looked at it like I look at cauliflower, with pure disdain and disgust.

“You’ve never had one of these?” Star asked incredulously?

“Nope.”

“Don’t you want to try one?” her sister, Miriam, chimed in.

“Nope. That just looks weird. I like my hot dogs plain. Just a little ketchup, mayo and maybe mustard.”

They shrugged their shoulders and asked their mom for a bacon-less weenie. I enjoyed my plain hot dog and chalked up the difference in hot dog preference to the girls’ Guadalajara origins.

Mexico and Bulgaria tied with one goal each. Bulgaria later won the game in penales. It was excruciating.

The events of that day have been repeated several times since. Every time Mexico loses in the Mundial or loses to the US I feel as crappy as I did 13 years ago. And every time I see a bacon-wrapped hot dog, I scrunch my nose and give it the cara de fuchi.

Simply put, no se me antojan.

One of the things that often bugs me about stereotypes of Los Angeles is that lots of people think that Westside is synonymous with white. Well, that’s simply not true, even in the more affluent community of Santa Monica. I’m not sure about numbers, but judging by the number of Oaxacan restaurants in the area, there a lot of Oaxaqueños on the Westside… and the food is good.

My first review of chilaquiles (a la El Chavo’s huevos rancheros reviews on the Eastside) will be at Juquila.

Now, I have to admit I’m totally biased toward Juquila. It’s the smallest and most humble of the three local Oaxacan restaurants I’ve visited (the other two are La Guelaguetza and Monte Alban). It’s also the cheapest, and the place where most of the patrons are transplanted Oaxaqueños rather than non-Mexican westsiders. I’ve also been going to Juquila several times with good friends and even had a first date there back when I was an undergrad. Yeah, lots of happy times.

I also almost always order los chilaquiles and horchata. Even though the menu offers cecina, tazajo or chorizo as sides, I always ask for a side of grilled chicken breast. The chilaquiles are always yummy (and big!), but this time they made me cry.

Ambiance: the place is small and L-shaped. There’s enough room for about 7 booths along one wall and four or so tables in the middle. The decor is homey, but inviting. They have colorful photos depicting festivals in Oaxaca on the walls and a flat-screen TV above the window to the kitchen (they had TV tuned to Univision for a Copa America match). I went around 3 pm on a Saturday, all the booths were taken up except for one. I could have taken advantage of their happy hour, but chose against it ’cause eating alone is already a little weird, but drinking alone?

Service: good, friendly. They serve yummy tortilla chips with red mole (colaradito) and queso fresco. Also, I only got to read a couple of pages of the book I had just picked up from the library before my food arrived. The young waiter tried to give me huge plate of carne asada before realizing he was at the wrong booth.

What I liked: generous serving; crunchiness of the tortillas lasts for a while, but not too crunchy; queso fresco on top; generous portion of side meat of choice, great for leftovers; affordable price, $7.99 for the dish, $2 for the drink.

What I didn’t like: a little too spicy (at least for me); large pieces slices of onion rings rather than finely chopped onions; they don’t look soggy, but they had a little too much sauce which was enough to soak the lettuce under the chicken; sour cream, I usually prefer my food without it; no side of beans.

Verdict: overall, a very good experience. I’ve ordered the chilaquiles at Juquila several times and will do so again in the future (unless I’m in the mood for mole).

Bonus: the guy across from me — who was annoyingly yakking away on his cell phone the entire time I was there — started talking to me as I was getting ready to pay. He first asked me about the soccer game on TV, since he could not see the TV from where he was seated. He then started trying to say he’d pay for my food if I had a drink with him. No thanks. He wasn’t attractive and had annoyed me, but I was still amused that he was flirting with me.

Juquila,
11619 Santa Monica Blvd., L.A.
(310) 312-1079

Food I can’t eat (at least for 40 days)

Less than an hour after I left Ash Wednesday services, I had my first challenge: the food at the GSA appreciation reception at Westwood Brew Co.

They had a bunch of food I couldn’t eat. They had breaded chicken strips, quesadillas, tortilla chips, Chinese chicken salad, plain Ceasar salad, and platters of fruits and veggies.

I gave up tortillas. Yes, tortillas.

After looking at my plate full of boring salad, some cucumbers and carrots, I told el novio, “maybe I should just give up alcohol.”

He looked at me, paused and said, “but you don’t even don’t drink that much. That would be easy for you.”

“Yeah, I know.”

A few minutes later, my friend Oiyan walked in. She saw the ashes on my head and started talking about the best part of attending a Jesuit college: Easter break and spring break.

“So what did you give up?” she asked.

“Tortillas.”

“Tortillas?! That’s like me giving up rice!” she exclaimed (she’s Chinese).

It will be hard. Yesterday I felt like just giving up something else like frivolous spending/shopping for stuff I don’t need. I’ve already tried that, it was a challenge, but not in the way tortillas will be. I see giving up tortillas for 40 days not as something that will bring me closer to God, but it will be fun (in a weird, masochistic sort of way).

And no, I’m not just doing this because tortilla prices are going up.