Rick E.'s Profile

I'm upgrading La Garnacha one star this time because it is truly a spectacle any night after the bars close. Also, they got wise and added a bean burrito to the menu. When I first tried La Garnacha when it was brand-new, they had no beans....not even beans on the side. It was more perplexing than a burger place that strictly bans french fries. The food is still awful, but now there's something besides a cheese quesadilla for your vegetarian friends to order.

Truly, the only reason that this place thrives is because it's 24 hours and centrally located. I suppose that they don't hafta cater to connoisseurs...not when most of the clientele is staggering up to the window off-the-rails drunk. Something hilarious and/or pathetic always happens there if you hang out after the bars close!

What is the Pakistani equivalent to "Guidos"? There's probably some kinda slang for that. Maybe it's better that I don't actually know. But a blingy Escalade fulla these guys cruised up one night while I was waiting forever for my order of nachos to arrive. The dudes each exited the vehicle one-by-one almost like it was choreographed as a scene in "Night at the Roxbury" or sumthin.

The first three looked ridiculous in their ultra-gelled hair and popped collars (one dude had two popped collars!), but they were all handsome on some objective standard that even the most homophobic man can recognize. The fourth and final guy, though...what an unfortunate guy! He looked like that bulbous yellow fellow from the old Saturday morning cartoon PSA called "Don't Drown Your Food!" with a body like an apple with two toothpicks for legs. He was so drunk that he could only ooze outta the vehicle, and after a deep knee bend and dry heave, he slowly stood up and began to waddle blindly behind his friends, almost tripping over the curb. His eyes were swimming, and he had the most severe case of bitter beer face I'd seen in a while. He attempted to light a cigarette, but couldn't succeed in making a flame or even holding a cigarette steady in his mouth, so his buddies helped, and to steady the cigarette, he choked up on it so that half of it was inside his mouth!

With the worst of commercialized hip hop blaring from their ride with the windows down, the debonair three made the rounds at tables trying to kick it to all the ladies who had come from various parties, including women who were obviously partnered with boyfriends or girlfriends and teenaged indie rocker gals who were trying to disappear into their chairs. Their teenage indie rocker boy tagalong could do nothing to wedge into the conversation 'cos Dude No. 1's game was more relentless than the cloud of Axe body spray that was nebulizing throughout the patio.

Just then, the wretched bitter-beer-face dude upped his game by retrieving a basketball from the back of the Escalade. He attempted to put on a ballhandling exhibition under the patio while threatening to choke on his cigarette--the whole butt-end half still deep in his mouth--which degenerated into the most inept game of patty-cake. Finally, his friends were like "WHOA! WHOA! WHOA! WHOA!" and tried to calm him down. The dude looked really peaked, so they put him into the backseat and told him to rest. That's when things got contentious. He kept getting out to pace and wander, so eventually, his buddies let him be while they tried to compensate for leaving whatever club they were at empty-handed in the hoochie department.

Before long, I had my nachos, and I ate what I could before submitting to the grossness. Seriously, awful!!! But by the time we left, there were two more cars blasting music with the windows down, and it turned into a battle of the car stereos at 2:30 on a Wednesday night with JJ Fad's "Supersonic" being the only discernible song.

Next door to the modern Fruitridge @ MLK Taco Bell is the old, original Mission-architectura l Taco Bell building, and where once everything was just add water, and where once the corporate taco filling had the lowest-grade textured vegetable protein, and Tri-Con beans were spiked with oats for extra fillingness, there is now Cd. Neza, one of the more peculiar environments in which one can enjoy some of the most authentic Mexican flavors.

Those old Taco Bells usually only had four tables inside, so Cd. Neza shrunk their kitchen to provide more seating space behind what used to be the cashier's counter. The counter is now a breakfast bar with a pass-through to the left to get to the cozy booths in the converted kitchen area and the new counter where you order and pay. When walking into this area, anyone under 5'8" must duck to avoid bumping one's head on the low wooden beam. It's kinda like climbing into a kid's clubhouse. It's part of the fun.

The walls are painted bright white and red, which is perfectly fitting for a Mexican restaurant, but it clashes horribly with the totally-80s puffy chairbacks in wispy sky-blue and sea-foam green. Don'tcha love it when a mom n'pop place is so budget that they must buy outdated consumer-grade dinette sets from South Sac garage sales? If not, too bad for you, because that is where the best food is at!

I've noticed since moving near here that many Mexican restaurants in the South Area are too authentic for even most second-gen Mexican-Americans. Several of these places don't even have burritos on the menu because burritos were invented in the Southwestern USA, and burritos are unheard of in many parts of Mexico. These places cater specifically to very recent Mexican immigrants. But unlike a lotta similarly authentic Mexican restaurants in the South Area, this place does have more typical taqueria fare and even a few items for vegetarians to eat, so I'm happy that I can bring my herbivore friends along.

The burritos are among my short list of the city's best, and now Cd. Neza's tortas are my #2 overall Sacto torta behind El Abuelo on Franklin. Cd. Neza's tortas are #1 for volume, though. All you size-queens need to see this monster. This sandwich is nearly four inches thick and the circumference of a dinner plate. The "nortena" is probably the best choice.

Another funny thing I saw there last time was the DVD they had on. It showed a giant concert in Mexico with throngs of hip youth dancing to what sounded like the late-80s precursor to "rivethead" industrial/EBM shock/schlock. Music like you mighta heard at the Asylum clubnite back in the day. A dude dressed like Voltron was robot-dancing and pointing Mag-lites around, and this seemed to thrill the thousands in the audience. It is amazing to know that this is the current state of commodified youth rebellion in Mexico. It almost made our "rage rock" of a few years ago seem acceptable. But as horrifying as it was, it stopped me in my tracks and made me laugh.

Parking is out back. Front patio seating with ultra-chintzy plywood covering will be nice in summer. More outdoor seating is also out back.

Don't be afraid, 'nilla! You can read the menu, you Español-averse, Docker-khaki-clad Dilb-weed.