This, the Low Brow Joint
Thursday, January 5, 2006 23:12There is a dump we all go to eat.
A trashy hellhole that lingers lower than comfortably acceptable by our alphabetical hysteria for restaurant ratings.
It may be sentimental.
It may be because they have the best gut filling albondigas that you’d stab your babysitter to get a sip.
This is a midmorning hangover fixer with greasy burgers and bloody marys.
Or it is a 3 am fish taco binge after you got thrown out of the club for conflagrating the DJ.
So my number one glop fest is Rick’s Char Burger. As the distressed plastic sign, weakly standing sentinal over a grey stretch of The 5 approaching Dodger Stadium says: “Ever yone in LA e atsAt Ricks.”
No they don’t. But nice feeble attempt at self-promotion.
They have the greasiest burger, choked with a smudgy-smoky aftertaste that reminds me of everything else they cooked on the grill that day. Mmmm. The fries are fried in the same oil they fry everything else. Thick cut shoestring fries confound the tastebuds with the battling, commingled flavors of zucchini, flautas, nachos, and OTB slips.
Look, a top chef like Keller couldn’t come up with a better way of infusing disparate flavors, and he makes tobacco ice cream.
The flautas are greasy, disgusting, and addictive. They are fried, crisp, beefy, slimy and pair excellently with sour cream and day-old guac. If you grab a bottle of Tapa Tio, you’ll have that extra kick to mask the shrimp taste from the tainted oil. Somehwere against a wall is a condiment cart with something green and something red and occasionally something brown and spicy. I never asked if that was intentional.
The pounded carne asada is a hunk of oversalted meat that is juicy, cuttable and perfect to stuff into the tortillas they give you. Garnished with the ton of diced agriculture they heap on your plate, it tastes like Bacchus himself smuggled it lovingly off Olympus and onto your plate.
The holidays have made me sick of eating rich, delicately orchestrated food. Give me your best rotten dive that you couldn’t live without. It should be condemned, but you would throw yourself on the wrecking ball to save your precious cesspit.
By Zteve (see more of his posts). You can find more of Zteve's writing at his own website Gastrologica
DrewB says:
January 6th, 2006 at 12:26 am
Hmm.. Does Chili John’s in Burbank count? It’s gotta. I mean look at that steam table. Look at the slick of grease that lays on top of every bowl and needs a mountain of mini-oyster crackers to soak up.
The spice level determined by the ratio of beans to meat. The tamales that no one ever seems to order.
Oh and the slippery aching sweetness of the creme pies.
That there be food to toughen the softest person into a rivet chewing factory worker.
BBQCHICKENROBOT says:
January 6th, 2006 at 4:59 pm
DUDE, There is this place, that is out of place, in a good place. The city? mash-up between placentia and fullerton. Mcdonalds and INNOUT then out of no where EL POLLO FINO #2. I have no idea why it is #2 cause I sure as hell didn’t find #1. This place has giant fryers and roasters with TONS and TONS of all sortsa game on it. Asadas, carnes, other stuff that looks and tastes better, and of course Pollo. I only see women workin’ there. I always see mexicans “dressed up” as mexican cowboys which to them is everyday attire drinkin’ sol and coronas. I’m the only asian guy who goes to that place, you can see the cooking heavy duty equipment from a window outside alongside a slap of fire and broil. Defintely love it.
Zteve says:
January 6th, 2006 at 5:52 pm
THAT’S what I’m talking about
Why We Type says:
January 6th, 2006 at 11:28 pm
“You’re only as sick as your secrets.”
That’s a line I’ve taken with me from a years-ago habit of watching “Recovery TV,” wich were basically AA meetings on the air.
My secret is the sickness-inducing Tacos Mexico. I’ve been to a couple of them, but when it’s 2am and there’s been burbon, I’ll be in the parking lot before I’ve asked myself if I’m hungry. Their nearly perfect burrito of ground beef, rice beans & onion is balanced and handcrafted served in minutes for no money. Mm, life on earth. Yes.
Rockin’ post Zteve. Seriously.
Zteve says:
January 6th, 2006 at 11:33 pm
Why We Type - Thanks for the nod. I don’t know about your pick. Tacos Mexico is as close to an orgy of flavor as you can get, almost its own class of highbrow taco. But, it is greasy and dirty, and I’ve been to the one on Temple and the one on Alondra in Compton - any joint that has a Homies dispenser is an instant qualifier in my book. YOU RULE!
Jonah says:
January 7th, 2006 at 10:40 am
This probably doesn’t count and isn’t as exotic as the spots you guys listed, but for me it’s Tommy’s. The first time I saw the guy in the back throw an entire block of lard into the chili vat and then stir it in with a big spoon which was really just an old pot with a handle extension tied on with some metal wire, I knew that it was a special place.
The soft buns are no match for the oozing chili and you can further assault your stomach with their container of hot peppers. Take your friends there and watch them complain that they “didn’t order a chili burger”, not understanding that chili is the default.
Tommy’s Gut Grenades are worth fighting for and truly represent the gluttony of America.
Zteve says:
January 9th, 2006 at 2:10 pm
Of course Tommy’s counts! Every location should be bulldozed to the ground for their heretical overuse of grey chili, and burgers that are not fit for grade C industrial feed. But I used to eat there twice a week at Rampart…
Anonymous says:
March 17th, 2006 at 3:43 am
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