El Chato - is this performance art?

This morning I stepped out to my scion to find a hawk tearing apart a pigeon on my car roof. Was this an omen? Was I the hawk and this is a favorable sign of the strength of my house and line? Or rather am I the hapless prey whose feather and guts had to be hosed off from my roof? Or maybe it is not an omen at all, but rather a reminder about the violent, random temporal nature of life.

Personally I find more meaning in my quest for sublime pastor. Leaving Chicago and returning to my beloved Southern California has been a mixed bag of emotions, but certainly the knowledge that superior Mexican food awaited me at every corner assuaged in part the sense of loss for that left behind. El Chato food truck (corner of Olympic and La Brea) has served late-night mid-city denizens for years, but with the recent blossoming of food truck culture with LA as its epicenter, even the humblest of roach coaches has developed an online following.

After an evening supporting the performing arts, Aphorism King and I needed instant pastor gratification, his earlier well seasoned steaks already a distant, digested memory. At $1 a piece, these small handfuls of grease and spice served their purpose.

Korean dudes next to baller, late-model German automobiles; banda members in matching performance outfits walking from one of the nearby Hispanic night clubs; a hipster with aggro calf tattoos riding a precariously high, self-made bicycle: It would be an interested first-year photography student project to document the eclectic clientèle that steps up to El Chato's 2'x 2' ordering window. I realized that I was much further from Lincoln Park's Mid West white frat culture than geographical distance implied. Bittersweet, like the pineapple finish to Big Star's pastor tacos.

< Aphorism King attempting to reenact his wide-eyed wonder at the bicycle guy mounting a seat that was a full 5 feet above street-level.

I took an operations class in business school, and even though I hated it, I couldn't help but recall several process flow concepts as I watched the efficient cooks quickly dispose of our order.

The center cannot hold

I have been told that I am "funnier in writing than in person" and also "not funny at all." And this is on dates with women who at some point found me palatable enough to agree on at least two hours of close proximity, one-on-one interaction. But they are wrong; I am very funny, even in person. Like the time I tried to ply a stubborn date with the classic "c'mooooooon. I paid for dinner!" Most of my dates end with me apologizing profusely, but I never really mean it because in my head I am already thinking, "I can't wait to tell the guys about this bon mot!" (yes, I drop French phrases like a pretentious asshole even in my own head)

The problem, of course, is the audience. If only my bros were around, I could get the immediate positive reinforcement I crave rather than having to wait until after I drop off the unappreciative lady at her place.

I bring this up because I am right in the long run, but I don't get the credit I deserve until much later if ever. Example: ToucanSam calls me up while stuck in rush hour traffic. He complains about the lone freeway from north suburbs into the city. I remind him that he spent two years audibly sighing, rolling his eyes, and saying "not this again" when I would complain about Chicago's piss-poor driving infrastructure as he sat in the passenger seat of MY car. Yes, ToucanSam, the view is different from the passenger seat than the driver's seat. Now apologize and mean it.

Or most recently with my OC dawgz when they suggested we try that new burger joint that just opened that's drawing so much attention: Five Guys. I told them that I had tried Five Guys while in Chicago and that it was nowhere near as good as our local In-N-Out, both for taste and for value. Compare the mental notes from recent GCL outtings:



Uru-Swati (2629 W Devon Ave)
- pani puri (hollow balls filled with spicy liquid; complex aftertaste)
- bhel (salad made out of interesting Indian shit)
- papdi chaat (Indian nachos made with slightly different Indian shit, or possibly the same Indian shit prepared differently. I honestly can't tell)
- vada pav (complex potato dumpling in unassuming hamburger guise. The evening's winner)

Sabri Nehari (2502 W. Devon Ave)
- Goat stew (complex broth, good if sparse meat on bones)
- Beef stew (beef falls apart in your fork: good sign. table competes to get the last meat scraps. everyone of course except for Chlodnik, who's pescotarianism continues to be a source of buzzkill in otherwise pleasant dinners)
- some paneer dish in yellow/red curry sauce and chickpeas (this was bomb. ordered extra naan just to sop up last remnants of sauce)

Now here are my mental notes for Five Guys.
- mediocre burger (shrug)
- peanut oil-cooked fries (ehhhh, okay)
- costs twice as much as In-N-Out

OC Dawgz, apology accepted. Especially you, Sunny Hills Homecoming Queen 2000. I'm not like your one year old infant you and hubby so cavalierly leave at home ("uhhh, he's asleep or something.").

Now here's a pan-regional bros on ManDates photo gallery, pictures ordered in an escalating scale of bro-ness.


The Sabri proprietor claimed the wait was only 15 minutes. 20 minutes later we asked someone else and they said it was only going to be 20 minutes. The trio of GCL contributors decided to take our business to Uru.

My OC Dawgz are my consumate bros. I do a lot of things with them that later on with my more "sophisticated" friends I disparage ironically. Will this innate contradiction within Chittlins destroy him? Probably.

Special thanks to Ms. I Am the Law for taking this pic and to her gentleman suitor, Guy I Fell in Love With After He Posted Mid-90s Lakers Highlights on My Wall, for driving me to airport.

Will I continue posting from OC? Possibly. I've been meaning to try an Indian Chinese cuisine place a few blocks from me, and at the Orange International Street Fair I was blown away by my first experience with loukoumades, those Greek honey dipped puffs. Will I find an OC-based adventurous gastronome partner in the mold of ToucanSam or Sizzlenutz? Maybe though they're irreplaceable. Will I find love? Not while the gene that codes for "female" also codes for "no sense of humor."