Lets taco 'bout last night

So, against all odds, I made it to the end of the holiday and now I'm finally at the end of my American blog posts. Sure there was the afternoon where we went to Venice Beach and I made the Ewing eat poke with avocado (kinda normal), pizza with avocado (kinda weird) and ice cream with avocado (very weird). And then there was the time we went to the Wynn buffet and ate prime rib and beef ribs and mac and cheese (despite my carb ban, so I could fit in even more food), before the Ewing went wild on the wheel of gelato (7 desserts...I ATE 7 DESSERTS - TE). But you're just going to have to imagine all that.

And yes, in case you're wondering, that is my ankle. Have you really been to Vegas without getting a tattoo at two in the morning after watching two of your good friends getting married in the Neon Boneyard followed by dinner and dancing, complete with a surprise visit from Tina Turner herself, at the top of the Stratosphere.

The real purpose of this final blog, however, is not my poor life choices, but instead to chronicle a whistle-stop tour of Mexican food in Southern California/Arizona. As we've pretty much had a moratorium on Mexican food in this household, after my ill-fated attempt to eat all the burritos in London, I was pretty excited to start with a sunny Sunday evening visit to the Best Fish Taco in Ensenada, in Los Feliz.

It's a bold claim (and I'm not sure I've actually eaten one like this, to compare it to), but the eponymous fish taco was pretty good. So were the shrimp tacos, both lightly battered and freshly fried to order before being topped with a mix of shredded white cabbage, red radish, pineapple relish and 'la crema magica' from the DIY condiment station.

Even better were the veggie options (no, really), in the shape of the green papa taco - filled with a kind of spiced mashed potato - and the elote, a corn cob drenched in crumbled Mexican cheese, chilli and more crema. A shout out, too, for the two lovely guys working there. Admirably calm in the face of a constant queue while patiently deciphering our mangled pronunciation.

The sprawling metropolis we now know as La La Land started life on a much smaller scale when eleven families of pobladores - the original settlers - arrived from the Gulf of California to establish a pueblo that become the City of Los Angeles. You can still visit the Los Angeles Plaza Historic District, including the famed Olvera Street, to see where the story all began.

Originally known as Wine Street, but later renamed for a renowned local judge, Olvera Street is a pretty place to take a wander. Particularly in late spring, before the temperatures soar and with the blossom on the trees against the bright blue Californian skies.

While the painted stalls may all be hawking generic ponchos, piñatas and pottery, making it down to the end brings the reward of Cielito Lindo, a small stall on the corner that is also known as the home of the taquito - a corn tortilla, stuffed and rolled and then deep fried until crisp - in the US.

The Ewing and I both went with the two taquito one tamale option, served with beans and cheese and their famous avocado sauce. While I feared  a plate of greasy stodge -more suited to soaking up several bottles of Sol than a light lunch – it was all excellent. 

Nothing fancy but just good, freshly cooked food that is clearly still just as popular with the Angelinos than tourists. A fact borne out by the fact we spent our visit surrounded by local ladies on their lunch break, picking up their taquitos with their perfectly manicured nails while putting the world to rights.

Our last brekkie in LA was at Texan transplant, Home State, home of the breakfast taco, but this is not bastardised Tex-mex food as we know it. Instead it features a range of rolled tacos, stuffed with a range of breakfast items such as eggs, beans and bacon and eaten in the morning, as well as migas - Mexican scrambled eggs with crispy corn strips - and homemade guacamole, queso and salsa to go with their homemade fried flour tortillas chips.

We both chose a brace of breakfast tacos, on Homestate flour tortillas, and continuing my love affair with egg, I chose the Trinity; organic eggs, bacon, potato, cheddar; and the Frio, with refried charro beans, bacon and monterey jack.  Both were good  but - annoyingly, as it so seldomly ever happens - the Ewing chose even better with the Pecos - organic eggs and shredded brisket.

We also had a Frito Pie, which for the uninitiated is a bag of Fritos (twisty strips of crunchy tortilla) split open and topped with chili con carne, cheddar, lettuce, sour cream, tomato, pickled jalapeño and pickled red onion. Basically nachos in a bag, and as good as it sounds. To drink was Topo Chico, a cult favourite sparkling water, bottled in Monterrey, Mexico. The Ewing thought it tasted like all fizzy water, but I bought the hype. Damn, this stuff was refreshing. 

Most people head to Sedona to hike around the stunning red rock formations, indulge their spiritual side with visits to the famous ‘energy vortexes’ or visit the art galleries and craft shops. While we made it to Cathedral in the Rocks (half an hour after it closed), my highlight was visiting the only McDonalds in the entire world that doesn’t have a yellow arch. Which is just as unique as other local landmarks such as Snoopy Rock, a formation that is supposed to resemble the beagle.

Of course I didn’t eat at Micky D’s (I probably would have had one of their sausage McGriddles, but it was past breakfast time…), but we did enjoy dinner at Torta de Fuego, a very decent Mexican restaurant, just down the road from our motel.

A torta is a kind of Mexican sandwich, and we know how I feel about sandwiches. Despite my passion, I forwent a sarnie on our visit, although I did end up having a burrito; which is essentially a wrap, which is essentially a sandwich anyway....

Full points for the condiment bar, full of salsas and sauces and chunks of limes and pickles radishes, but I’m taking away half a point away for putting it right by the door and half a point away for not giving us gratis tortilla chips (or asking if we wanted to order any), something I only noticed when I had picked up a rainbow array of sauces and had nothing to dunk into them. 

I was also quite amused by the customer who picked the only obviously English girl (obviously me) at the condiment bar, before launching into a monologue questioning what everything was, and then getting offended when I clearly had no idea. In case you were wondering I just pointed at what I hoped the most incendiary one was, and crossed my fingers it would burn. 

As for our food, the Ewing's camarones el diabalo really did burn. A great pile of giant shrimp in a deep crimson sauce, rich with smoky chillies, with a scorpion-like sting in the tail. An accompanying pile of refried beans, rice, salad and foil wrapped tortillas quenched the fire; slightly. As did the comically oversized sup of horchata, the sweet rice-based drink flavoured with cinnamon. There may have been tears, although they were (mostly) from happiness.

I had the Fuego burrito mojado, a burrito stuffed with carnitas with rice, beans, guacamole and pico de gallo, and topped with soured cream, mexican cheese and cilantro. No, I haven't turned American, but coriander isn't going to cut it in this situation. I ordered it off menu 'Christmas style' - topped with both green and red salsa - to make it look like I knew what I was talking about after the salsa bar debacle. I still didn't really know, but I knew I liked it.

While the Vegas food scene seems to centre around celebrity chefs and fancy high end dining and the obligatory all you can eat buffets, there are also a few lower-end gems that are worth looking out for. One of these is the lauded Tacos el Gordo, a small chain of taco stands that started in San Diego, and have recently successfully transplanted to The Strip.

While you can expect an endless queue for ballast at four in the morning, the fact we walked past it every day while heading up the strip meant we stopped in for a more civilised lunch. Made even more sophisticated by the fact we had met up with the magical Stealth, who was the only person in Nevada in May who was wearing tweed.

There are three queues when you get inside; one for the adobada - a huge rotating spit of pork marinated in brick red chilli - one for chorizo and carne asada. and one for all the organ meats, with bubbling cauldrons of beef breast and pig guts.

As well as the familiar tacos you can also order mules, which are a a thick tortilla 'sandwich' filled with meat, griddled cheese, guacamole, salsa, onions and cilantro - a vampiro is the same, but with extra crispy tacos. There are also sopes, corn cakes topped with the meat of your choice, and cheese smothered quesedillas.

We shared a box of their famed loaded fries piled with carne asada, soured cream and guacamole, as well as a slice of wobbly sweet flan, in a puddle of bitter caramel sauce. Of course we also had tacos; with tripe - surprisingly great, served as crispy strips, a little like calamari. We also had lengua, slices of soft tongue similar to corned beef (why is it that offal is always likened to something less 'awful'), that became the the Ewing's favourite after our honeymoon adventures in San Francisco.

As well as tongue, they also serve tacos topped with cheek and brain. So use your head and come here for the food but you may want to skip the woven woollen wear.

Go West

A day out looking at the Czech and Slovak Embassies and municipal town halls may not sound like most people's idea of fun, and my wife is no different. But when she discovered there was a soft launch at new Mexican restaurant, Killer Tomato, plus Brewdog's were releasing their live keg beer, the Ewing was much more amiable about schlepping all the way out to Shepherd Bush on a Sunday.

As much as I love them and need precious little encouragement to sit on my sofa eating them, it’s still pretty hard to get too excited about chips and dip. That said, it’s not cricket to start a Mexican meal without them and the one's served at Killer Tomato are the real deal; thick, a little oily, crisp and salty – just like the ones we were served at El Faralito, with a spicy salsa that made the Ewing bare her gums like a rabid chipmunk after eating it (not my finest hour - TE). 

This time they were served with an impossibly smooth guacamole, flecked with fresh herbs and bright with lime and garlic, and served in a deceptively indecent portion. Alongside were Tommy's margaritas, nicely made with tequila, mezcal and the requisite salty rim

The brisket – a notoriously hard meat to get right - balls appeared as a trio of unremarkable-looking bread crumbed pucks but, as with the chips before, appearances can be deceptive. Packed inside each crisp carapace was a huge hunk of cow’s shoulder, the meat slow cooked and shredded to a soft, juicy tangle. The mayo alongside was also noteworthy, packing the promised spicy punch.

In fact, I liked it so much I used the bed of shredded cabbage the balls were served on to make a kind of deconstructed slaw, lest any were to go to waste – even more impressive/unappealing for my wife, due to the lack of cutlery.

From the taco selection the sticky chicken (served with the same poky mayo as the brisket balls) was good, as was the beer battered fish and crunchy slaw – served on a funky purple corn tortilla. The flavours of 'green chorizo with chips' were more unusual with the soft sausage filling - spiked with plenty of coriander and onion before being chargrilled - reminding me of the shami kebab that’s served at my local curry house.

The special taco, chosen by the Ewing, was a chicken skin crackling with feta and chopped green chillies. I have recently discovered the joy of making crispy chicken crackling at home, usually covered in Slap Yo Mama Creole seasoning and eaten, alongside a cold beer, straight out the oven. Of all the tacos we tried, I think this was my favourite. The perfect balance of crunchy, creamy and chilli spice and giving me inspiration when I concoct my next late night drinking snack.

There’s plenty to like at Killer Tomato (beyond the generous soft launch, featuring 50% off both food and drink); bold flavours, interesting ingredients and lovely staff (but not my hand or wild eyes - TE). Portions are decent, but I’d probably need a little more ballast after a few of their drinks, especially as our second cocktail - the summer cup with tequila, Argentinian 'champagne', agave and lime was particularly lethal. 

That said, the hungry (or drunk) also have the pick of bigger options on the menu with (rice-less) burritos (including pork belly and crackling), cheeseburger tacos, crayfish tostadas and weekday lunch deals with drinks and fries for a tenner. There's also a wicked looking ice-cream drowned sandwich for desert. Two of my favourite things on one plate.

To maintain inebriation levels we crossed the street to BrewDog (not far to skip and only moving vehicles to dodge - TE), to try their new interpretation of cask ale. After giving up cask a long time ago as, in their opinion 'more than half the cask ales served in the UK are substandard in terms of beer quality. We also felt the beers we were making at the time all suited keg dispense better and that cask ale was best suited to lower ABV session beers'.

Understandable if you are supplying to other outlets maybe, but doesn't show a great deal of faith in your own bars if you think they can't serve their own BrewDog beers on cask properly....

Despite this stance against cask (one shared by many other breweries recently) a quest began, helped by writer Pete Brown, towards creating what eventually became LIVE beer. A beer that would behave with the consistency of keg but have the character of cask and would produce a perfect pint every time.

In Brewdog's words 'LIVE beer is craft ale, conditioned in a key keg, Fermented without top pressure, then lightly centrifuged to remove hop debris the beer is packaged and allowed to ferment and condition inside the keg and is served on draft at 9.5°C through a sparkler... gently sparkling and 100% awesome'. The usual hyperbolic swagger we expect from the Scottish brewers, but does it match all the fuss? 

For me Dead Pony Club - the only beer that's currently been given the LIVE treatment - is a pretty solid session pale ale anyway, so it's hard to say this new twist added much. Serving it through the sparkler aerates the beer, giving a nice tight head and some body to the beer, but mutes it's hoppiness. Overall a refreshing, if not standout, pint which, as it's served slightly colder than cellar temp of 'normal' cask, is well suited to this weather.

When I was last in Australia my sister told the Ewing and I about the Coldstone Creamery, an ice cream parlour where deserts are customised with different 'mix ins' on a block of frozen granite, and where she and her friends had spent their gap year gorging on their icy creations. Now, I’ve eaten lots of ice cream pretty much all over the world, but suddenly visiting their Manly branch in the north of the city became a quest of almost mythical proportions.

After taking the ferry across the bay and stumbling around in the heat trying to find it (in the pre-smart phone days, and of course having no map and no idea…) eventually we asked a kindly chap, who seemed greatly amused to hear about our mission and helped direct us there.

Of course, the ice cream couldn’t live up to the expectations, but I think that’s somehow the point with these things, the thrill of the chase. And while Four Winters, our next stop, didn’t quite have the excitement of our Manly mission, the ice cream here - created by adding dry ice to the liquid ice cream base – is even more dramatic.

They had run out of waffle cones, a disappointment for Ewing and a rookie mistake for an ice cream parlour, but the tubs – a seasonal pina colada for my wife and kunefe for me – were still pretty good without. (I thought it was quite an icy concoction which had lost the lovely creaminess of real ice cream, but that's just my opinion of course - TE). I particularly liked the my choice, based on the Middle Eastern sweetmeat where layers of pastry are stuffed with fresh white cheese, topped with pistachios and soaked in fragrant syrup. 

Here, the freshly whipped vanilla ice cream base is mixed with crispy strands of syrup soaked noodles and sprinkled with fresh pistachios. While it may have been better with a cheesy centre, what wouldn't, it was an interesting combination of textures and flavours that made a nice change from chocolate or strawberry

As a reward for patiently poking around student halls and army barracks with me all afternoon, I took the Ewing to get a bun for her trunk, or more accurately a upmarket desert from Maitre Choux, French pâtissier  Joakim Prat's exclusive eclair shop in South Kensington.

The Ewing chose the  Pure Arabica Coffee, a glazed choux bun stuffed with coffee flavoured creme patissiere that has both added butter for texture and whipped cream for lightness. No surprises that it was pretty good, the coffee bringing bitter edge to the pillowy, sweet pastry.

As we are currently experiencing an Olympic medal rush in Rio how could I resist the hazelnut and milk chocolate treasure, an eclair that 'has it all'; filled with hazelnut praline and chocolate creme patissiere then coated in chopped hazelnuts and more chocolate and finished with gold dust. Gilding the lily has never tasted so delicious. Now, if chasing concrete and eating and drinking were Olympic sports....