Wednesday, December 9, 2009

Naco's Tacos

FACT: Every neighborhood in NacoLAndia has comida Mexicana because every neighborhood in NacoLAndia has nacos.

I remember one time, the MTA bus I was taking to el centro broke down in Beverly Hills (ay, perdon!).  So, we all got off the bus and waited for the next one, but next one was full and it didn't bother stopping.  Since I had time to spare, I decided to take a walk.

Imagine my surprise when I found a taco truck parked by Wilshire and La Cienega!  I made a beeline for it, and in the midst of all these intimidating mansions and fancy cars, I felt at home standing next to the other patrons, a handful of construction workers and gardeners. Tu sabes. Puro paisa.  

When I went to put in my order for a torta de milanesa, la doña de la lonchera asked, "sí, mi cielo, ¿qué te puedo ofrecer?"  I heart being called mi cielo.  It reminds me of my DF tias who call me mi reina.  Makes me feel special.  To top things off, this roach coach even had agua de jamaica, so I could have stayed here forever!

I had just finished sitting down on the curb, enjoying the first bite of my torta, when one of the jardineros started making ojitos at me.  It would have been fine if the one with the beer gut had tried to throw lines at me, but it was the other one, el feo.  The dead-eyed, leathery skinned galán decided he'd woo me with his drawn out, "adiooos, chula" babosadas.  Thank goodness I saw my knight in shining armor, the MTA #220 bus, coming to my rescue.

Now, don't get me wrong.  I like piropos.  I think catcalling is funny and a self-esteem booster when done well.  I've heard some awesome and awkward lines in my days of strutting around like a naco taco de ojo.  (For references as to when, see previous post on paisa clubs.)

Just the other day, I asked Naco Libre for some of his best lines.  This was the best one of the bunch, which explains a lot.

"I'm gonna go outside and make out, wanna join me?"

I must say, I like that one.  He had many, many terrible lines which I won't subject you to because they're that bad.  But I think that one is a keeper.

As for my own sure-fire piropos, I'll share some of the cleaner ones with you in a future post.

OK, I'm getting off subject, if there really is one.  So, speaking of ojitos and tortas...The westside of NacoLAndia has a gangload of paisa places (and a gangload of paisas, and a gangload of paisa gangs).  Here's one of my favorites:




There is no need to adjust your monitor.  What you are seeing is real.  This place is called Tacomiendo.  Greatest. Naco. Name. Ever.

It's located on Culver and Inglewood in Culver City in a mini-strip mall sandwiched between Libreria y Discoteca Latina and El Rancho Produce.  I've never been to the libreria, but I've been to Guadalajara Bakery next door to that and their bolillos tasted stale.  Guáchale.  As for El Rancho, I went there once while waiting for my enchiladas order to be ready, and walked out with a chafa version of Lotería.  Quien sabe donde lo dejé.

Sometimes, I sit on the colorful bench by the window and wait for my order to be done.  It's an amazing place to sit and people-watch.  The colorful walls display traditional Mexican restaurant art, you know, a velvet painting of Popo and Iztac, a water-colored scene of the Mexican Riviera, and of course, the picturesque pueblito, complete with portales y parroquia.  Now, before you ask, "pero, LA Naca, no painting of la Virgen or Chuchito?"  Let me tell you: this place has an altar.




La Virgen y familia are well represented at this fine dining establishment.  This, along with their kickass flautas and glass-bottled cokes are the reason I come back to this hole in the wall as often as I do.  In fact, I was just there this past Saturday when the unthinkable happened.

I got cht-chted.



By the man in the black jacket on the right.

Let me explain something about cht-chting that you can teach your children.  It is perfectly acceptable to cht-cht in order to acknowledge a good looking dama as you're riding past her in your carcancha.  Same applies for chifladores.  It is QUITE another to cht-cht her when she's standing 2 feet away from where you're sitting.  Also unacceptable behavior: to repetitively raise your bushy eyebrows over your crazy cracked-out eyes when she gives you the death stare.  Then, continuing his stares in my direction, brows and all, he yelled to the waitress that his chile de arbol wasn't spicy enough.  The final straw was when he licked his lips at me.

To you, sir, I say...

No pienso que estés listo para esta gelatina.

Hasta mañana.

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