Señor Fish - Eagle Rock

Longtime fans of Burrito Life may already have picked up on Jimmy’s lack of personal enthusiasm for seafood, which I know he’s been vocal about on more than one occasion. These tendencies, naturally, have never prevented our overlord from fully appreciating a deftly seasoned Cajun-style lobster burrito, or more gravely assessing a disastrously runny (but still tasty) shrimp conglomeration.

Since my own tastes lean more sharply in the direction of slimy, bottom-dwelling sea creatures, however, I figured I’d jump in and volunteer for the privilege of reviewing Eagle Rock’s notorious mariscos staple, Senor Fish.

My fish preferences, in daily lived experienced, run more toward nigiri than fish tacos, but good scallops inspire both love and respect, regardless of context. Cooking a scallop without screwing it up is nearly damn impossible – overheating a scallop for even a few seconds causes its supple flesh to instantly transform into a phlegm-like, inedible mass of rubber. Even a correctly prepared scallop is so overpoweringly rich, it was difficult to imagine as a burrito filling – how could it possibly mesh viably with the other ingredients? A scallop burrito (especially a relatively cheap one, just shy of $7.50) sounded like a great gimmick for pulling in customers, but despite high hopes and promising Yelp reviews, I felt intensely skeptical.

To my pleasant surprise, Senor Fish’s scallop burrito was as gloriously well crafted as I had dared to fantasize. Whoever conceived of this burrito was smart enough to go light on the main ingredient, allowing the scallops to shine through distinctively without drowning out their supporting elements. The buttery flavor and texture melt seamlessly into the fresh medley of rice, beans, corn, fresh cilantro, and diced onion.

They also nailed the consistency – not only for the scallop burrito, which I had feared might be slimy, but for their vegetarian burrito, which I also got a chance to sample.This veggie burrito went far above and beyond the call of duty, with stewed tomatoes, fresh guacamole, and brilliantly verdant baby spinach providing most of the flavor. The grilled zucchini, though, was the ingredient that stood out most for me thanks to the springy, chewy texture it imparted.

Senor Fish was really a great eating experience overall. I couldn't believe how satisfied I felt as I was leaving. Aside from the food, I fell completely in love with their gorgeously kitschy outdoor patio with its rough-cut, varnished wood countertops, and the giant stone fireplace filling up the main dining room. Eagle Rock is a forty-five minute drive from my apartment, but ten minutes into my meal, I already knew I would be back.

Doctor Strangebreakfast: or how I learned to stop worrying and love poverty (Part 2)

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"Write Now Wednesdays" is the day I take time to explain facets of Burrito Life or expand opinions touched upon in previous articles. This week we present the conclusion to last week's story by guest contributor, Devon Ashby.

These tortilla-wrapped masterpieces typically contained cheese – Havarti was a favorite when affordable, but shredded cheddar was my fallback. If it was really a hard-up week, different wet ingredients were substituted for the cheese (or added, just for the hell of it). Chorizo was my standby meat ingredient — beef, pork, cured and uncured – but bacon, diced ham, sausage in its many glorious forms, and even soyrizo all made appearances. The Beverly Discount Market at the end of our block routinely stocked 6-count bags of fresh tortillas, delivered from a bakery just a few streets up, so all I had to do when I ran out of wrappers was put on my shoes and walk to the corner. Other rotating guest stars included black beans, red beans, garlic cloves, fresh cilantro, avocado, rice of many colors and textures, grilled peppers, fresh and stewed tomatoes, and an impressive array of hot sauces and salsas.
 
To this day, breakfast burritos are an important signifier for me, and they’re special for a couple different reasons. I didn’t have a car and there was never enough money for gas anyway, so the frequent need to replenish my stash of ingredients forced me to actually leave my house and explore my own neighborhood. I was living right outside Koreatown in Los Angeles, an area dominated by Guatemalan and Salvadorean small businesses. By going out on foot so many times looking for shredded cheddar or chorizo, I realized that my neighborhood was a fucking goldmine – not just of fresh tortillas, chicharonnes and Guatemalan pastries, but of huge, gorgeous painted mural art. I spent whole afternoons just hoofing up and down the street, gawking at DIY signage for various toy stores, religious icon emporiums, electronic repair shops, and carnicerias, and occasionally wandering inside to examine stacks of 30 year old video game cartridges or mirrored, glass-protected displays of false teeth.

A tortilla stuffed with cheese, meat, and vegetables isn’t the healthiest food on the planet, or the most technically sophisticated. But the cheapness, availability, and raw creative potential of my ingredients usually added up to a pretty happy medium between flavor, nutrition, and affordability. This was the first time in my life I had to make choices about how to manage my resources and take care of myself, and coming home to a meal cooked in 10 minutes that flooded my tastebuds with ecstasy, contained fresh vegetables, and could be held with one hand while watching Jeopardy was one of the few recurring experiences in my life that made me feel I might actually be capable of someday getting my shit together.
 
Most importantly, without fully realizing what was happening, I had the chance to get really good at something, just by doing it over and over again, while still leaving myself some room to play around and experiment. This is probably the most important skill set I’ve ever learned, and the rest of my life’s formative experiences have pretty much just been variations on that same theme over and over again. Breakfast burritos taught me how to be an artist, and how to be an adult. I salute them.

Doctor Strangebreakfast: or how I learned to stop worrying and love poverty

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"Write Now Wednesdays" is the day I take time to explain facets of Burrito Life or expand opinions touched upon in previous articles. This week we begin a series by guest writer Devon Ashby.

So in my early twenties, like most people, I went through a financial trial-by-fire period of not really being able to feed myself properly.

In my particular case, this was due to the trifecta of being unemployed, not wanting to live at home anymore, and not having very good sense about how to manage my money. My roommate and I were mentally and financially coordinated enough never to lack for toilet paper, Diet Coke, cigarettes, or cheap, gut-poisoning liquor products, but a majority of the hot meals we consumed came from the $5 pizza restaurant next to our Laundromat, or out of a box with a big orange 99 cent sticker on it.

Aside from the perennial stand-bys of ramen noodles and pasta, three ingredients were always present in our otherwise threadbare kitchen, and those three staples transformed what could have been a purgatory of darkness, self-doubt, and chronic stomachaches into a magical period of gustatory self-discovery. Those three ingredients were: fresh tortillas, chorizo, and eggs.

Prior to moving out of my parents’ house, I’m pretty sure I was at least introduced to the concept of breakfast burritos. Tragically, however, I have no specific early memories of my experiences with this fateful staple of my transitional adulthood. With aforementioned budgetary constraints mapping out an entirely new grocery template, though, I knew I would have to start getting creative, or resign myself indefinitely to a menu of empty carbohydrates, tinfoil seasoning packets, and processed cheeses. Tortillas and eggs seemed like a no-brainer since they’re two of the cheapest foods you can buy, and with the bulk of the work established, the rest of my grocery list fell rapidly into step. Breakfast burritos became a three-or-four-nights-a-week tradition.

To be continued...