Westside Choices for Cinco de Mayo

I love Mexican food. I grew up in Gardena and have eaten Mexican food all my life. My first date with my wife was at El Coyote, my favorite Mexican restaurant ever. So, I don't understand those East Coasters who don't like Mexican food. I had a friend from Long Island who detested Mexican food, but he wasn't able to articulate why. He could eat all of the cheapest and crummiest Chinese food as long as he could have it served with duck sauce. He did enjoy Italian food and I think the East Coasters have it all over us in that department. But I'll never understood why this guy hated Mexican food so much. I don't think we ever had a meal together at a Mexican restaurant. He's the kind of guy who would order a hamburger at El Coyote with a Coca-Cola to wash it down. Oh well, what can I say about that?

So, like I just mentioned, El Coyote is my number one choice for Mexican food and Margaritas. I've been going here since my undergraduate film school professor took a group of us there after the cast and crew screening of PIRANA at the old Director's Guild theatre on Melrose. My wife has been going there since childhood. (She grew up in Carthay Circle and went to Fairfax High.) All throughout UCLA grad school, my friends and I would always dine at El Coyote before seeing a double bill at the Beverly Cinema. The best man at my wedding went to El Coyote so often that I used to have him paged there on Friday nights. I used to read scripts in the bar. The old lady who owned the place was alive then and she'd stop by my table to see if I needed anything. When my wife and I lived on Cochran Avenue near by, we went there at least once or twice a week. On one holiday, I forget which, we went there for breakfast and returned 10 hours later for dinner. My wife and her best friend have a weekly dinner there. When her best friend's mother died last year, she held the post-funeral dinner there with all of her friends. El Coyote is a part of the family. I've yet to have a better margarita than the tasty ones they serve. Get the scratch margarita. A couple of those and you'll start seeing the long lost ghosts of Aztecs and Incas. Drive safely.

El Coyote Cafe
7312 Beverly Blvd
Los Angeles, CA 90036
(323) 939-2255

I started going to the Talpa during grad school. I used to see my professors there. They don't have a full liquor license, so they serve beer (Coors is on tap) and wine margaritas that my wife enjoys. We both love the Mexican chicken soup. Lots of spices and flavors, the broth fights back at your ingestion. But the Chicken Mole is king here. I've had overcooked Mole at Lucy's in Hollywood, but never once at the Talpa. Think carmelized chocolate chicken and you'll have an inkling of what this dish tastes like. By the way, the people who work there are terrific and deserve your highest tipping percentage.

The Talpa
11751 W Pico Blvd
Los Angeles, CA 90064
(310) 479-9884

Paco's Tacos really does have outstanding tacos. The place is dark and comfortable. The service is extraordinary. They don't forget about you at Paco's. There's a lot to choose from on their menu, but if you're not in the mood for tacos, try their fish dishes. They know what they're doing. Their margaritas can come by the pitcher and I recommend that with an order of guacamole.

Paco's Tacos
4141 S Centinela Ave
Los Angeles, CA 90066
(310) 391-9616

Gilbert's on Pico in Santa Monica is the closest place we could find on the west westside that compares to El Coyote. Lots of kitch on the walls. Their bar is really the waiting area for their restaurant, but you could hang there if you want. I prefer the booths. As you are seated they bring you pickled carrots that are to die for. I've tried making them myself, but can't seem to get the right receipe. The last time I went there they still only take cash. They serve margaritas by the pitcher.

Gilbert's El Indio
2526 Pico Blvd.,
Santa Monica CA 90405
310-350-8057

Okay, so those are my regular Mexican restaurants. If I could stand crowds and lines of people, I'd go to one of them tonight. But I can't and I'm not. It's like St. Patrick's Day. On the Big Green holiday you can't get into an Irish bar. Even the British bars are packed with people who don't know the difference or don't care. Same for Cinco de Mayo - every bar and restaurant with a spanish name is packed. So, you do it for me. I'd be in the mood for chicken enchiladas and a pitcher of margaritas. I'm sure my wife would insist on guacamole and some pico de gallo. Hmmm, now I'm getting hungry. Does Denny's serve a mean taco? I have a lot of tequilas in my liquor cabinet. Maybe I'll just open a can of refried beans and make a margarita from scratch? No crowds. As for you guys, drive safe.

Day Trip to Hollywood - Part One

Tuesday, August 21st, Noon, I found myself driving east on Pico. It wasn't too hot and as long as I didn't use the air conditioning, I wouldn't have to worry about my Mercury causing a fit. I considered stopping at Lazer Blazer, but decided I didn't feel like shopping. I was hungry.

Near Century City, police car sirens told me to pull over to the side of the road. Two squad cars passed me by and I swear I heard a helicopter overhead. Then, there was an ambulance. I considered turning around and heading back to "Burger Madness" in Ocean Park, but the call of El Coyote gave me courage. Turned out there was nothing to fear on Pico except the traffic. When I passed La Cienega, I looked at the piece of property where KOWLOON once stood. Many rum drinks served with umbrellas were sipped by me and mine there amongst the aquariums stocked with fish. Then, they tore it down. What a waste. It would probably have been a big hit these days.

I turned north on Hauser and drove through the spine of Park La Brea. I used to ride my bike here before they put up all the gates and drove out us peasants. My windshield was dirty. It wasn't that grey of a day.

Before I reached my seat at the bar, the bartender had already taken my order. Fox News was on the television and I wanted the remote more than the scratch margarita I'd just asked for. Luckily, one of the regulars I always see in there at lunchtime got control of the remote and started changing channels. He gave me the choice of baseball or soccer. I chose CNN, but he switched it to baseball. Anything's better than Fox News.

In all the years I've been going to El Coyote, I never had the Caesar Salad before. This day, I had it with Fajita chicken. It was awesome. The second scratch margarita made it even better.

I left El Coyote by the alleyway and drove onto Beverly heading east. The New Beverly Cinema is still open while the Rialto in Pasadena ceased operation last week. Let's just hope a Starbucks doesn't wind up there someday.

I slipped over to Larchmont and turned up to Melrose. As I approached Gower, I decided it was a good day to take another left and stop over at Hollywood Forever Cemetery. But that's Part Two.

El Coyote Today

EL COYOTE: Do you get it or not?

I drove across town to eat lunch at El Coyote today. I sat at the bar and had two scratch margaritas along with a tostada served with fajita chicken. The old guy on my right (see pic above) told me about his life in Larchmont and the dead couple that left their estate to their doctor. The guy on my left (no pic) told me he's lived in the Park LaBrea since the sixties. He runs an ice cream store at Farmer's Market that his grandfather started. He recommended watching the Science channel.

I love El Coyote. There are two types of humans in this city. You either get it or you do not. A third type might be those that don't get it, but pretend to. The food, Californian Mexican diner style, is as kitch as the decor. Get it? (You are eating art and participating in a performance piece.)

Documentary filmmaker and professor Mitchell Block was the first person to take me to El Coyote back in 1978. (He had taken us film students to the cast and crew screening of Piranha at the Director's Guild theatre, which was on Melrose then.) At the restaurant, we sat in the back in a large red vinyl booth and raved about the carnival atmosphere.

All through UCLA Graduate Film school (80-83), we ate religiously at El Coyote as a prelude to double features at the New Beverly Cinema. The food and drink was so affordable you could buy rounds for strangers and we did.

In 85, I moved into the neighborhood. I took up residence at the Cameo apartments on Cochran Avenue just south of 3rd street, three blocks west of La Brea and four blocks away from the entrance to an air conditioned margarita paradise.

Then, I met my wife and we went on our first date to El Coyote. She grew up in the neighborhood and attended Fairfax High. She and her buddy Lisa would pig out there regularly. When we met, we discovered our mutual fondness for the place, so we chose to go there when we scheduled our first date. We sat in the rear west room, which once had a working fireplace. We were seated at a booth with an unstable table, so we switched to another booth. Several margaritas later, we confirmed our suspicions that we were talking to another person from our home planet. When we moved in together a short while later, we elected to stay in the neighborhood and found a larger apartment just two buildings north on Cochran.

Many wonderful evenings were spent at El Coyote with many wonderful people. I particularly enjoyed the rainy Friday nights when the fourth double margarita didn't start to taste too sour.

My friend Steve dined there so regularly that on Friday nights I could have him paged. His wife turned us on to the mexican spaghetti option. At his bachelor party, we smoked a joint at a center table and no one said anything. It was 1987.

In the early nineties, I spent a lot of time hiding out from the heat and reading scripts there. The family matriarch Blanche, dressed in beautiful ornate dresses, would stop by and ask if everything was okay. She was a delightful part of the whole show.

In 93, we moved to Santa Monica and have never found a west-westside alternative to El Coyote. So, we regulary venture back to our old neighborhood and gorge ourselves. My wife meets her best friend there every Thursday night for dinner. (The sour part is that we have to watch how much we drink, so as to safely survive the voyage home to the beach. My wife and I trade off as designated driver.) Anyway, I'm babbling.