J J.'s Profile

This place would normally get a 3 star rating. I have eaten a variety of items on their menu and usually doesn't disappoint, but doesn't leave a lasting impression either. Except for 3 items...

Item 1: Their salads are horrible. Worst salads ever. Small, bland and not creative. I've seen soup kitchens serve better salads than this place and for 5 bucks for a styrofoam container filled with $.35 cents worth of veggies, you might find yourself standing in a soup kitchen line. The value is just not there.

Item 2: Cheesesteak sandwich, yum! My usual go to item should I happen to forget to bring lunch or I need a quick bite before hitting the grind again. This is a serious good sandwich.

Item 3: My most recent discovery, the breakfast burrito. My new go to item for when I am in a hurry. Freaking delicious and filling and at $3.50 a pop, I could eat one every day of the week. The best part is they serve breakfast all day so if I get a 2:00 pm craving for a hashbrown and forrest ham burrito, I can walk over, grab one for the road, scarf it down sitting in the privacy and comfort of my own office and be back on task in 20 minutes flat.

When entertaining out of town guests, don't insult them by passing this place up. By all accounts, this should be the first place you stop after picking them up from hellax or burbank to soothe their travel weary bones with something better than anything you can whip up in your own kitchen. Don't kid yourself, you can't do better than this joint.

I love taking KBBQ virgins out for a night full of meat and more meat.  My virginal companion took it all in like a champ and never once complained that it was wierd or smelled funny. Not only that, but once he got a hold of the tongs, he was flipping meat around like he was born in a hut. Being good with your tools makes most women swoon and I'm no exception. The quality of the meat was about average and the service was to be expected. I probably won't make a point to come back here as these joints are becoming a dime a dozen,  but I'm glad I got a chance to pop my champ's AYCE KBBQ cherry.

I like to refer to myself as a runner. Not because I've run marathons (I haven't) or because I have runners legs (I do, my legs from the knees down will make you froth at the mouth) but rather, I tend to get the injuries of a dedicated pavement pounder without having to really work for it.

It's awesome. Every other day, there seems to be an ailment that's preventing me from training or making me cancel my measly 5-10K runs. It's a great excuse to say you run, but not actually have to do it.

Enter Martin Choy...Dr. Magic (yet brutally painful) Fingers. This guy worked on my Iliotibial band and it hurt so much, all I could do was laugh like an insane person or else punch him. (just joking, I would have just crawled to a corner and whimper like a sissy)

He and I are working on a knee therapy for me because my granny knees like to whack me on my fibulas with a purse filled with bricks every time I run. It's getting really annoying and depressing so I finally made the decision to grab the ole bitch by her blue hairs and puuullll.

Martin, Shelly (the awesome front desk girl, she's so freaking nice and funny!) and I are in a committed relationship for the long haul, or at least until we get my knee in a reasonable condition which according to Martin, will require just a few more sessions, which by the way, how awesome it is that he wants to actually help you and not prolong the treatments just so he can pay his electricity bill?

This guy is the real deal folks! He was the sports Dr. for the Chargers for 4 years so he understands sports injuries far better than some of the other dudes whose only real experience with athletic bodies is in the bathroom with a Sports Illustrated Swimsuit issue.

Considering in this town, you can get unbelievable mexican food off of a freaking truck for just a few bucks, I expect a sit-down joint to have at least decent food for what they charge you. I walked out of there $75 lighter in the britches with nothing to show for it but a nacho platter, a large carnicita wet burrito and a few nasty drinks. WTF?

To add insult to injury, the food was pretty terrible. Granted, I ate most of it because I was starving my ass off, but I actually had to pick the dry pork out of my burrito because it was hard, tasteless and getting in the way of the chewable food sliding into my belly.  My margarita was just plain gross. I asked my friends if the salt smelled like chlorine because when I took a sip of my drink, it tasted like I retardedly jumped into a public pool with my mouth wide open, but no, they assured me the chlorine smell wasn't from the salt, it was from the tequila. nice.

The service was good, which is why I am giving it one more star than it deserves. However, I would rather jump into an over populated public pool with a freshly minted log floating along side my head than eat here again. Why? Because in a public pool, you know what to expect. At Ranchero, I expected decent food at a decent price but instead I got butt raped with a hard tasteless burrito and a pool flavored drink.

From the diary of a dead and hungry cougar:

Dear Diary,

Going to Elite partays such as this one inspires me to get all dolled up by tightening the hardware and go to more of them, if they allow me on the guest list AND I've had a recent feeding. If not, it inspires me to beg, steal, blubber, blow snot bubbles, whatever. I want IN.

I recognized a few old school Yelpers, which between the dark room and the blood, gore and wigs, it was a feat, but pretty easy if you were under 30, cause I could sniff you out, plus I rode the bus with some of you delicious looking peeps.  e-i-e-i-o.

I liked the candy spread, looks like something you would find in my bedroom. I didn't hear the band because they were all over the hill.
My only stiff competition was a dead bride, but she's already taken so it was a no brainer.

Was it worth it to get my tired old ass up out of the grave, on a bus and hang at the Viper Room? I'd do it again even if I didn't get screwed.

Man oh man, did we have a great time. I mean I'm pretty sure we would have a great time even if we didn't win the trifecta that earned us a solid 500 bones, but we did!!! Pretty much nothing could spoil our day after our big win. Birds could have pooped on us, old men could have pooped on us and/or we could have thrown up on each other, it didn't matter, we were winners.

The food was respectable, the drink prices, reasonable, the outside seats were top notch and the service, with the exception of our waitress who was a bit slow at times to refresh our beverages, but now that I think about it, that might have been a calculated move on her part. We literally spent an entire day at the races and we literally imbibed all day. Which means, all 3 scenarios mentioned above could have indeed happened.

The only thing I found odd were the bathroom attendants, who were sitting in the lounge area doing absolutely nothing. And there were 2 of them. Maybe they were there in case we threw up and needed help. Maybe they're a throw back from the days when ladies wore hats that were to big to fit into the tiny stalls or when we ladies wore corsets in public. (yes I wear mine in private, not all the time, only when I feel like there's too much oxygen in my body)

Overall, a fun and profitable day at the races!

I stopped here on my way back from picking up work from the office. My little guy has the flu (I'm hoping its the swine flu so we can just get it out of the way for the season) and he wanted wonton soup.

It took a few minutes for someone to acknowledge me when I first walked in, something that I am beginning to realize is a typical asian restaurant feature. Not that it is acceptable, because it's not and I still feel the rage well up in my soul when I get ignored, but I don't take personal offense anymore, it's more of a global outrage.

After overcoming the language barrier, I placed my order, almost 8 bucks for a bowl of wonton soup seemed steep, but whatever, I'd pull the fillings out of my teeth, paint them gold and hustle a hustler to get my kid fed.

To me, I would never eat this soup again, the broth was like french onion broth, minus the onion, the french and the goodness, plus a gripload of black pepper. Excuse me, did the pepper shaker cap fall off while seasoning the soup? Gross.

The kid on the other hand enjoyed the soup. Begrudgingly, the wontons were decent, but then again, he may  have the swine flu. His faculties were not about him and his taste buds must have died because he did not complain once about the heat and this coming from a kid who thinks tooth paste is spicy.

This place fed 1 porky pig and an offspring for 15 bucks at dinner time. Yeah, this place is officially on the rotation. Plus they are very kid friendly and didn't seem to mind that we were doing homework while we ate.

Obviously we didn't go for the all you can BBQ deal because with my new resolution to only eat until I'm full (a lesson that I am learning from my 6 year old) and my kid only eats until he is full, well...let's just say that I am still working on that resolution. So until the willpower powers up a notch or 20, we're just gonna have to stick to the dinner deals. BTW- everything was really good! The banchin was fresh, the soon tofu hot and delicious and the bibimbop  just right and we both walked out of there feeling nice and full, not all gross and waddly.

There are certain things in life that if you do not embrace, then as far as I am concerned, you're a goddamned commie. Yes you heard me write.

a commie*.

and yes I intentionally wrote write instead of right because I am clever and shit.

"What ARE those 3 things??"  You may be asking your monitor as you sweat it out while clutching the sides of your task chair.

Chocolate (not really american but work with me peeps)
Pop Rocks
Bacon

Some crazy, brilliant, genius named Christopher Michael also thought this but he had the gumption to combine all three ingredients, shape it into a bar, wrap it  and sell it to the masses. I recommend you go out and grab yourself a bar and experience this for yourself before I go all McCarthy on your ass. (and when I say "McCarthy", we all know I really mean that fat fucker Limbaugh and when I say "on your ass", I don't mean I'm threatening to turn you in fer being red, but ya better eat your candy quickly before I Rush over, grab it out of your hands and shove it down my throat without chewing... or thinking.)

*I do not know if this review reflects Christopher Michael's views about the goddamned commies or the right-winged nut jobs. I never asked him as I was too busy shoving his confectionary in my mouth.