I arrived in San Diego, after a 4 hour bout with traffic on the 5, just as the sun was setting, which made for a pretty amazing postcard across the bay as I drove up and down a collection of one way streets near the airport in search of the Casbah, a nice little club where one of the most amazing bands of the 90s would be holding residence that evening. I found the club on my second pass and, seeing absolutely nothing in the immediate neighborhood, pulled out my hand-scrawled map and headed to the pre-party: dinner at Blue Water Grille.
When I discovered Polvo was playing in San Diego I was pretty ecstatic. A few days before the show, when I looked at the responses to my post for recommendations on Chowhound, I was even more excited.
Blue Water Grille (B+) is located on a strip of restaurants nestled underneath a steep but inviting neighborhood where parking places seem even scarcer than LA. As you approach the restaurant, the welcome aroma of curry saturates the air, not from Blue Water, but from House of India next door. Maybe next time.
The interior of the restaurant features an array of framed photographs of fish, fishermen, fishing boats, and more fish...all surrounded by the color blue. It feels a bit like that little market you might have visited with your parents, or your kids, for fresh seafood on a trip to the beach. The plastic plates on which your food arrives only adds to the informality.
It's hard to find a favorite when one scours Yelp or Chowhound for opinions on the place. Some people like the salads (one girl raves about the blue cheese dressing), some the sandwiches and some the plates. After a typically epic internal argument, I opted for the Red Snapper plate, with seasoned rice and a small salad, over a sandwich with an order of chowder. I'm not completely sure if I made the right choice, but the Red Snapper was more than competent, delicate without being fragile, and made a nice paring with the healthy portions of rice and salad. I suppose the chipotle seasoning could taste a bit more like chipotle, at least in terms of adding the spice I was hoping for, but that may be a minor complaint. I would return, though I think I would try the chowder the next time.
Polvo was next. At some point I got the feeling that you had to be at least 30 to get into the show, which I suppose would make sense as the last time I saw them, 10 years ago, these same 30-40 year olds were in their 20s. It was amazing. Well worth a ten year gap. Hopefully they'll do it again.
After the show, full of adrenaline, new t-shirt in hand, I hit the road, ready for the drive back to LA, with no intent of stopping for anything other than gas and a coke. Somewhere along the way, the Lucha Libre Taco Stop (A) intervened. I had to stop.
In some circles I suppose Lucha Libre might be called a museum, a museum of Mexican wrestling that happens to serve tacos. The walls are covered with vintage posters and photographs of masked strongmen grappling and jawing, posing and preening. In a few spots you'll find little dioramas of wrestling action figures in mid jump, Super Fly Snuka style. A flat screen TV, on my visit, was airing some sort of old movie featuring Mexican wrestlers and otherworldly beings, all in a classic technicolor tint. All this before you even get to the counter.
The menu features simple tacos, specialty tacos, burritos, quesadillas, salads, and a couple of specials. The California Burrito, which I expected to feature some combination of organic ingredients capped with fresh avocado, resembled the California of Pico Boulevard more than the California of Wine Country, as it was composed of cheese, lettuce, pico de gallo, your choice of meat, and...french fries. The adventurous could add a TJ hot dog (dog wrapped in bacon with mayo, mustard and maybe ketchup) for $1.50. I decided to wait on my TJ dog for a late night in LA, opting instead for the Tap Out specialty taco and a standard chicken taco (both pictured above in blurvision).
I suppose Lucha Libre is not one of those newfangled taco spots that oppose the use of lard, or perhaps they've just found some substitute that crafts the steam-driven, perfectly moist and justly rich tacos that one really might only hope to find in Southern California, or Mexico. The standard chicken taco, dressed with a salsa that resembled a colorful middle eastern eggplant puree, in taste as well as color, was more than fine. The Tap Out, a taco of chicken, grilled vegetables and a creamy poblano sauce might be hard to find on the streets of Tijuana. It seems a bit too elaborate in comparison to the monuments to simplicity that one finds at the taco trucks of LA. I would love to know if something like this would show up on the menu of a Mexico City restaurant, or a Mexico City home. Not that it really matters in the end, for this meal at least. To my dismay, I finished it in less than a minute. No matter that I had to use my fork a bit more than I wanted to.
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