Orange County Food Blog

​Glad to report that Break of Dawn in Laguna Hills, one of the best breakfast joints in Orange County, is still as great as ever. New dish to try (might've been on the menu before, but first time for me): cinnamon roll, presented on a hot skillet, topped with a mound of cream as large as a clenched fist, decorated with shaved almonds. Second-best cinnamon roll in Orange County, ranking just below the monsters at Seal Beach's Sweet Jill's.

I always enjoyed their homemade hot sauce, somewhere between Tapatio and that Asian salsa with the seeds you usually find next to Sriracha bottles. But today, after asking for the it, chef/owner Dee Nguyen casually dropped that he's been working on a habanero salsa, as well.

"Got some?" I asked. He nodded and went to grab a small dish. Inside was a dark-orange salsa, looking more like a barbecue rub than traditional habanero salsa, which is usually a yellowish orange and has the consistency of relish. The genius of Nguyen was at play: this was his take on habanero salsa, and it worked. He retained its trademark hell and citrus aftertaste, but ratcheted down a couple of notches (of course, take the description of its heat with the caveat that I'm Mexi). If Nguyen sold the salsa in bottles, I'd buy it.

But make sure to ask for Nguyen's habanero salsa, if interested. Ask for hot sauce, he'll give you the wonderful usual!

Break of Dawn, 24351 Ave. de la Carlota, Ste. N-6, Laguna Hills, (949) 587-9418; www.breakofdawnrestaurant.com.

Or rather, I spoke about the best Mexican restaurant in Orange County for 2009 with Evan Kleinam, host of 89.9-FM KCRW's Good Food program this past weekend. It's toward the end--maybe around the 45-minute mark? Dunno--as most of its rabid audience, I was listening while driving. Enjoy, and buy a dozen huchepos!
 

Giant Robot--that paragon of Asian-American culture that seems to give a rightful plug to the Crosby every other issue--has a review and gorgeous shots of Irvine's 85°C Bakery Cafe. Specifically, intern Julienne Lin praised their signature Sea Salt Coffee, a chilled espresso sprinkled with sea salt. Her review is well-written, but my favorite line: about the bakery's crowd, Lin wrote, "They got the rude pushing and shoving part of crowded Taiwanese places down, making the place pretty legit." TOO FUNNY. Haven't tasted the coffee yet, mostly because I don't like coffee, but mainly because I'm currently in San Antonio, happily drowning in a sea of melted cheese. Posts to come on the latter--hence, the video:
 

I love appearing on KCRW-FM 89.9's Good Food not just because it hopefully gets us more readers, but because I get to praise those OC restaurants I already reviewed to a much-larger audience than this humble rag can ever hope to brainwash. This weekend, host Evan Kleiman and I talked about Alebrije's Grill, the OC taco truck that has four great, unique qualities going for it: its taco truck rights-fighting owner, Cadillac-pink paint job, chingón chilango cuisine, and perhaps the only tacos acorazados in Southern California. It was on the latter point that Kleiman and I chatted the most, and I try to get them at least once a week, so great they are. But don't believe this wab: consider the words of the eminently more qualified Edwin.

Listen to the Alebrije's segment below, at around the 40-minute mark. One historical curveball: I told Kleiman that Alebrije's is the Brown vs. Board of Education of Orange County loncheros. I would've preferred to call them the Mendez vs. Westminster of taco trucks as I did in my original review, but that would've entailed explaining the historic civil rights case to a Los Angeles audience. If O.C. residents barely know of Mendez, what makes me think L.A. foodies would? Another battle for the Gunkist memories, alas...

Anyways, the tape:

 

I knew people listened to KCRW-FM 89.9's Good Food program, but the devotion! I had at least 10 people congratulate me on my recommendation of Wadiya, the county's sole Sri Lankan restaurant I originally reviewed earlier this year, and none of them even knew of my original write-up! And these folks are my supposed friends and not even foodies! Ingrates! Anyway, my yapping occurs toward the end of the broadcast (around the 50th minute), and gracias as always goes to host Evan Kleiman for allowing me the chance to plug OC places, although her description of me as the "king of the OC" is a bit much--I'm much more of a joker after you drop the r.


Now, the broadcast (and hear the real version every Saturday at 11 a.m.)

​Ah, Arthur's Coffee Shop in La Habra, that glorious relic in a town that sometimes doesn't feel as if it ever left the era of King Citrus. Where the waitresses once wore T-shirts stating "OKIE SPOKEN HERE" and for the most part still look as if they came fresh from Tulsa. Home to the perfect Spanish omelet, one baked in yellow and the size of half a plate.

But that's not why I write this post. I've been to Arthur's enough times over the years, but not until this Sunday did I try their Arthur's Orange Juice. It's the same priced as their regular OJ, just as fresh-squeezed, but comes with a protein boost that imparts it with the frothiness of an Orange Julius. Delicious. And don't forget to order an extra side of biscuits, so gosh-darn sweet they are once topped with the homemade citrus jelly.

1281 E. La Habra Blvd. La Habra, (562) 691-7793.

No Mexican food here, but Taco Man nevertheless approves...

Went to Mesa in Costa Mesa yesterday, and it remains as great as ever: big-breasted women in slinky dresses, corporate suits dining or ogling them, bumping DJs (yesterday, they spun Fela Kuti, ska as it turned to dub, and samba funk), and great, affordable meals. The chica ate a leek pizza with buttery prosciutto shavings; my pals scarfed down fried olives (don't like the small fruit much meself, but these tempura treasures nearly made me change my mind) and a simple, yummy cheese platter wiith a honeycomb and quince cube.

But the best item of the night is something most folks might scoff at: roasted carrots. Heirloom carrots, to be exacto, cooked in some type of butter. Better yet, the cooks included three types of carrots: a slightly bitter yellow varietal, sweet red, and an orange one. The owner (who looked like Sawyer from Lost) told me the chef picked them from a farmer's market specifically to show eaters the glories of heirloom vegetables, and anyone who eats this dish will forsake mass-produced veggies forever for the glories of heirlooms.

Mesa, 725 Baker Street Costa Mesa, (714) 557-6700

While most restaurants struggle, Irvine's champion of veganism Wheel of Life has expanded its menu, at least since the last time I visited months ago. I didn't try any of those dishes, however, craving as I was some tom yah soup (with giant ginger slices no amount of gnawing on my behalf could whittle down) and a fried mint spicy rice that fulfilled the promises of its name. You can see the new items here; the funniest entree, of course, is the Golden Papi wrap--a misstranslation, I'm sure, by this wab like the Filipino bakery treat puto.

Wheel of Life, 14370 Culver Dr., Irvine, (949) 551-8222; www.wheelofliferestaurant.com.

The chicken tikka masala at the Olde Ship in SanTana? Two moist, slightly grilled chicken skewers coated with a thick tikka masala sauce. On top of a large mound of succulent jasmine rice with peas. Ramekins of a curry sauce that worked this time and yogurt more sour cream than raita. As good as you'll get with Indian food in a stateside English restaurant.

But...the naan. The menu stated that a buck extra would get me some of the subcontinental bread standard. What the nice waiter brought out though wasn't naan--it was pita bread. I didn't expect the Olde Ship to keep a tandoor oven among the Guiness and Newcastle, but pinche pita bread??? You can go down to Trader Joe's, buy a bunch and reheat actual naan for eaters instead of buying pita bread and reheating it. Or do the Brits call pita bread naan, kind of how they call Indians and Pakistanis Asians and East Asians Orientals?

Still don't get their logo, but whatever...

I haven't been too nice to the Crosby, the SanTana hipster haunt who I've previously called out for uneven food and for one of its owners cracking easy Mexican food jokes. But I'm man enough to take back what I've said if proven wrong, or at least open enough for another try. And I've been planning to return for a couple of weeks now, ever since Crosby owner and Free the Robots madman Chris Alfaro MySpaced me to say he appreciated the criticisms but urged me to return because they were going to revamp the menu soon.

I got a hint of what was to come on Wednesday, when my chica returned from the Crosby with slices of pepperoni pizza. What was once limp was now fat, slightly greasy, hearty and passed the cold pizza test. We returned yesterday, and the menu was radically different from what I remembered. Gone was about half of it, and the remaining half featured new items (fritters, roasted tomatoes of some sort) that I must try soon. But distracting me was a weekly menu and a monthly special menu: the Crosby had gone gourmet and relatively locavore. Hipsters caring about something other than their wolf T-shirts and image? Nah...

It was supposed to be the perfect Cinco de Mayo: dinner with my chica and some of our pals at the muy muy Napa Rose at Disneyland's Grand Californian Hotel followed by moshing at the Mouse of Blues with O.C.'s O.G. punk-mock veteranos, Manic Hispanic. I should've known better: the two don't mix.

Napa Rose, for those who don't know, is Disneyland's attempt at food more serious than their legendary corn dogs. On that level, it's succeeded for years, with an embrace of California cuisine focusing on local, organic fresh product. I can't even remember all the dishes we ate (although my credit card will for months...), so let me list the highlights...actually, I can only remember the fried asparagus, a dish so seemingly blasé but so stunning in execution--the fried outside tasted like a perfect custard, the asparagus was crisp, and the stalks were doused in a lemon sauce that pushed your palate to the optimal high--that it will change your mind about the evil Disney empire once and for all. Every dish ranged from really good to spectacular, and I wholeheartedly recommend a yearly visit (if you're rich like Croesus, dine weekly).

But we ordered so much food, and the presentation and execution by the Napa Rose staff was so elegant but long, that the House of Blues box office was closed by the time we got out. Instead, we went to the Lost Bar--and that's when the night turned, how we say, blue.

I kept pacing, walking, texting, getting insane. Saturday near noon in Little Saigon, with horrific traffic and sad news. I was supposed to meet a pal at Zen Vegetarian Restaurant, a place I hadn't visited in a while but which my vegetarian friend swore by. Only problem: it no longer existed; construction workers were busy ripping apart its former confines to prep for a creperie, while a group of elderly men sat in the patio outside, gossiping in Vietnamese.

I kept waiting. Noon turned into 12:10, 12:20. Five minutes past the 15-minute grace period. I didn't have my friend's number, and he hadn't arrived. I began walking toward Lee's Sandwiches, upset at my pal but sadder that such a great place like Zen wasn't able to make it even in a world that's increasingly more meat-free. I thought better than to eat at Lee's when Ba Le was just across the street. As I turned to get into my car, though, there was Zen: in the same building as its original location but on the other side, now twice as big. Stupid me; lucky stomach.

My friend and his friend were already there, waiting. Zen's menu is now bigger, but no less great than its first incarnation. I ordered ginger chicken, and the tofu tasted just like bird. It sat on top of sauteed greens (not sure what kind, but muy bueno) accompanied by a sweet dunking sauce. Very cheap, but I never did get my lemonade. Then again, it was as slammed as Bolsa Avenue outside.

NOTE: No tacos sold at Zen, but Taco Man fully endorses.

Zen Vegetarian Restaurant, 9329 Bolsa Ave., Westminster, (714) 895-3637; www.zenvegetarian.com. Now, with stage for maximum karaoke!

Owner Gabbi Patrick--cool dame!

It seemed a couple of days ago that my chica and I would experience another disappointing meal at Gabbi's Mexican Kitchen in Orange, a place I have long championed but has recently acted like another Old Towne Orange battle horse, Felix's Continental Cuisine: a super-busy restaurant past its prime. We enjoyed the lobster quesadilla, but my chica remembered that lobster was a special two days earlier. My queso de panela enchiladas featured an acrid red sauce (although the cheese was properly suffocating), her tacos de rajas not properly piquant. We sat at the bar, arrived before Gabbi's customary evening swarm, yet the bartender lagged. "I don't want to come here anymore," I mused to my chica, as she ordered the churros for dessert.

Churros and I haven't gotten along since high school, when I mistakenly bit into a window-display churro (weird story that I haven't thought of in years, but true). Most churros unfortunately taste like that mock version: rubbery, with little flavor other than too much sugar. But Gabbi's take highlighted what can impress from a churro while minimizing its detriments: crunchy exterior, cream-like center, with enough sugar powdered on to make you unconsciously rub your fingers to take off the excess granules but not so much that the dough is rendered flavorless. Even better, however, were the dipping sauces: Mexican chocolate and cajeta, each robust and not overly sweet. The cooks should make the sauces a bit thicker so they don't drip off, but that's an oversight. Executive chef Gabbi Patrick and her husband are great people, and she definitely has the proverbial skills for the bills, but she should monitor the kitchen's output a bit more diligently. More churros, less bad enchilada sauce, I say!

Some of the eateries within the Patina umbrella may benefit from a stellar site (not least Patina itself, in LA's Disney Concert Hall), but the Market Café, next to the Orange County Performing Arts Center, sure isn't one of them.

For starters, it's tucked away down a path in between OCPAC buildings and office blocks. It's just a couple minutes' walk from South Coast Plaza, but it seems that few shoppers are making the effort to get there, despite the lack of interesting lunchtime options at the mall.

Location aside, the food itself varies. I recently enjoyed a Waldorf Salad, which was heavy on the green stuff and light on everything else--cubed chicken, diced apples, raisins, candied walnuts and blue cheese. But, despite being prepackaged, it was extremely fresh. Another time I stopped by, a Black Forest ham sandwich with Swiss cheese was overfilled with cheap-tasting meat, and I'm pretty sure it was made with average supermarket wholegrain bread, not marble rye, as advertised. Not worth $7, that's for sure. (Other items represent better value, such as the daily-changing soup, $3).

There are a few fresh side dishes on display, which might include penne pasta with basil pesto, olives and roasted garlic. I chose a dullsville orzo salad with bell peppers and olives that tasted of nothing--though I'm not sure orzo can ever be that exciting.

Extras include kettle chips, cookies and a well-chosen drinks selection (Lorina lemonade, DAD's root beer, and so on).

Coffees are fine, and service is friendly.
 
I know this is hardly a ringing endorsement, but I would still come back here. It's part of a mini chain, yes, but it's just that little bit different. A real bonus is that it's not overrun with students and their textbooks. Indeed, it's a pleasant, quiet spot to while away a half-hour.

Whatever the case, something is hurting business here, and it's probably not just the general recession. The hours have been scaled way back, to the point that it's now open weekdays only, for breakfast and lunch. With a few changes to the ingredients and a higher profile, this place could be a gem.

Now, for all you Fawlty Towers fans out there, the classic Waldorf Salad sketch.





Market Café by Patina, 615 Town Center Drive, Costa Mesa (714)-429 7650.

A couple of weeks ago I ranted about the fact that my husband and I had to wait 20 minutes for a table at Marché Moderne on a Saturday night, despite having a reservation.

When he saw my post, chef Florent Marneau had the decency to email me and apologize...

It's a testament to Marneau that Marché Moderne remains so popular during this economy. After all, it's not even that new (it celebrates two years at the end of April)--and it's in a deeply uncool, hard-to-find location on the top floor of a mall. The open kitchen, with its wood-burning oven, is surely a factor in the wait times--it helps to generate a lively, welcoming atmosphere, but if the chef's a local celebrity (check) and a visible (and hardworking!) presence (check), diners inevitably want to meet and greet him...

Still, as I mentioned at the time, the food was outstanding compensation. Now for more detail.
 
The lengthy menu is a fussy eater's dream-come-true, with oysters, fish, tarts, salads, lamb, pork, beef and chicken. There are even à la carte pickle and charcuterie selections, while the lunchtime menu includes "boutique sandwiches" such as fennel and coriander [cilantro] crusted ahi tuna on pane rustico.  Beat that, Subway!

Vegetarians may have a hard time finding something to eat, but when the food's this good, they might be tempted to break their commitments anyway.

Culinary influences come from all over--Japan, Spain, Scandinavia, and, of course, Marneau's native France. Dishes are creative without going overboard, although you'd have to be pretty adventurous to try (or even pronounce) the likes of sweetbread schnitzel with braisé de tomate et fondu de Reggiano and Pedro Ximénez vinegar jus.

The meal kicked off well with an appetizer of Japanese hamachi (yellowtail). The delicate flavor of the fish was enlivened by a coriander vinaigrette and a touch of punchy yuzu kosho.
Our other starter, Boston and mâche lettuce with Onetik cheese, honey-fried pecans, walnut vinaigrette, Concord grapes, Cassis gastrique and Zante currants, pulled off the difficult feat of making a combination of salad ingredients seem more than the sum of its parts. It was generously sized yet very light--which was just as well, given that I'd chosen braised beef short ribs for my entrée.
 
The ribs were a perfect winter dish, the quality and tenderness of the Four Story Hill meat shining through. In the broth swam
roasted fingerling potatoes, cremini mushrooms, bacon and cipollini onions. This is the kind of recipe you could easily attempt yourself for a dinner party: it sounds impressive but is actually very easy to make, provided you have a spare few hours.

A second main course, a lamb tagine special, was another winner. It was beautifully presented with a trio of accompaniments: houmous, mint sauce and a pungent chermoula. From the fresh dates in the couscous to the incredibly tender lamb, Marneau's insistence on impeccable ingredients was evident. And, for once, "medium rare" meant exactly that--kudos to the chef for not overcooking it.
 
Entrées are good-sized, but not massive. I could have easily got a box for the last rib, but somehow the thought of stone-cold stew for Sunday brunch just didn't do it for me.

Our friendly server practically begged us to order the cheese selection for dessert, claiming it was outstanding. It did appeal--although a few more non-French varieties would improve the range, in my opinion. However, we only had eyes (and bellies) for the warm Valrhona chocolate and truffle cake. As with the rest of the meal, presentation was key: the cake sat in minimalist fashion on a long white plate, next to an inviting dollop of rich cream and another of silky coco-mango ice-cream. (The deft hand behind these and the other desserts on the menu is Florent's wife, and restaurant co-owner, Amelia). The molten center of the cake was unleashed at the first touch of the fork, and it was all over in seconds. Sublime.

So were there any disappointments? Not with the food. Service was a little harried in places-- bread arrived at the same time as the appetizers, and the appetizer plates were still on the table when the entrées arrived, but these are minor niggles. A bigger one is that there's only one restroom per gender, but we're guessing that that's an issue of space constraints.
 
The atmosphere was buzzy, and although we were seated behind a large group celebrating a birthday, they were a civilized bunch, so we hardly noticed.

Of course, food this good doesn't come cheap ($158 in this instance), but if you choose wisely you can limit the dent in your wallet. Soup is just $7, and an entrée of moules-frites is a reasonable $18. Alternatively, come at lunchtime and snag the three-course fixed-price Spontanée menu for $20--a bargain. I also love the fact that, in addition to a top-notch, wide-ranging wine list, there's a BYOB policy (albeit with a corkage fee). Further damage limitation.

We wish we could eat like this every day--or at least rustle up something similar at home. Marché Moderne's cooking classes are unfortunately sold out, but keep an eye out for other events, such as Mothers Day ($39 for a three-course meal, May 10), and, to mark two years at South Coast Plaza, Market Nights, which will feature a replica of a European-style open market on the rooftop patio and a four-course tasting menu, $75 (March 29 and 30). The website promises details of the menus soon.

Marché Moderne, South Coast Plaza, 3333 Bristol St., Suite 3001 (The Penthouse, by Nordstrom), Costa Mesa, (714) 434-7900

I'm not exactly sure who the audience of the Orange County Register-owned lifestyle magazine Coast is supposed to be, at least not when compared with that of the county's other two lifestyle mags, Orange Coast (middle-aged folks with some money and people who like to read good journalism) and Riviera (super-rich women of the youngster and MILF variety). But whomever constitutes the average Coast reader, I'm sure the editors of the magazine never expect them to venture outside of South County. That much is evidenced by an August 2008 review of the Costa Mesa gem Old Vine Cafe that hangs on its walls, an article I saw today while eating their sliced-in-four pieces four-cheese sandwich bomb (complete with pomodoro dipping sauce!).

The Coast review was unsurprisingly complimentary, as only morons can find fault with this bistro. But where the reviewer erred was in constantly referring to Old Vine as OVC, its natural acronym. Problem is, that three-letter sequence is already claimed in the Orange County galaxy by Orange Varrio Cypress, a gang that the district attorney's office recently slapped with an injunction. Thankfully, everyone I know calls Old Vine Cafe plain ol' Old Vine and doesn't resort to such cholo chicanery.

One more thing about that four-cheese sandwich: best cheese sandwich right now in O.C. Go, and if someone hits you up, shoot back "Puro Old Vine Cafe rifa, ese."

No need for a descriptive overview of Costa Mesa's Mitsuwa Marketplace food court because I'll assume most who read this blog have visited this hive of Japanese grub; for those who haven't, I just described it! The stall foodies love most is Santoka Ramen, cookers of a soup that has launched a thousand bad Tampopo references. Ate there yesterday; slurped down the spicy miso ramen, all about a milky, oily, sweet broth holding magazine-thick pork slices, glistening ramen noodles, yada yummy yada.

Of course you should come here when you don't want to bother with pho. But what struck me about the spicy miso ramen is how...well, unspicy it is--at least from this Mexican's palate. It isn't a bubbling volcano, doesn't scorch or warrant a three-napkin salute like, say, the salsa de aceite from your finer O.C. restaurants; all I felt was sniffles, but it could've been that cold I'm fighting. Then again, I'm not sure that's what Japanese seek from their heat (consider their curry), and that maybe this does qualify as the habanero of Japanese soups. Then again, maybe my tongue is so deadened by gurgling on Tapatío since my chavalo days that my Scoville scale is permanently warped. Then again, I'll shut up and state the One Truth: Santoka's ramen rules.

Santoka Ramen, 665 Paularino Ave., Costa Mesa, (714)557-6699. Now, Tampopo!

My favorite taqueria in Orange County, Taquería Tapatía in big, bad SanTana, has a fucked-up chronology. It operates two locations, but the original location is actually the newest outpost, because redevelopment along Bristol Street forced its founding shack to transform into a gleaming edifice of meat (the one good thing Don Papi Pulido's redevelopment dreams have ever accomplished).  Still, Taquería Tapatía #2--about a block away on First Street--remains  the more advanced of los dos because it offers not just tacos, tortas and burritos like the O.G. spot, not just other dishes like the newer older one, but sells its delicious meats by the pound. Read here for my first ode to Taquería Tapatía #1 (the food quality at both are equally nummers), but I post this only to let folks know that the First Street spot is the 24-hour location (the original one used to be open 24 horas but now closes at two in the morn). And I only visited it because I was intent on eating a casamiento sandwich from El Amanecer, but SanTana Salvis apparently sleep early on Sundays; it was closed, and so I went to my new old stand-by. But, instead of dabbling Tapatía's excellent green sauce, I drenched my burrito in an oil salsa that offered heavenly hell. More tomorrow...

Taquería Tapatía #2, 1118 W. First St., Santa Ana, (714) 835-8168.

What kind of mesa?

Shortly after I reviewed Mesa in Costa Mesa, I vowed never to mention it in this rag again. The owners wouldn't allow anyone to take pictures of the inside--not the Los Angeles Times, not the Orange County Register, not even Riviera (I'm not sure if Riviera ever reviewed them because of this). It's a common tactic of restaurants trying to create "buzz," a concept that belongs in its manufactured meaning to bands, one that should never migrate to the world of food. Such arrogance! Even haughtier was the intentional lack of a sign denoting its existence--unlike Gabbi's Mexican Kitchen, which wanted a sign but never got around to it because of the bureaucratic hand of Orange planning commissioners--Mesa owners wanted to create "buzz." Blecch.

I laughed when Mesa finally got around to putting up a sign last year and began allowing photographers in. The owners claimed that they had finally settled on a concept and were thus ready for business, but no one bought such bullshit. It's the Great Recession, silly! On my ways to Old Vine Cafe, I'd see the one-huge lines to get into Mesa recede. I laughed.

A couple of weeks ago, I returned on a whim. Was waiting for someone with time to kill, and Ikko was too crowded. A hostess took me to the bar area, where I was promptly ignored for a good 15 minutes. I was ready to take out the red pen, when a kind waitress finally arrived and apologized. She quickly got me a Maker's and my order, some sliders. They were great--a blue cheese that imparted the right amout of tartness, fluffy-yet-substantial bun, and juicy meat. I still prefer the sliders over at Manhattan Supper Club and the burgers at TK's just across the way (more on those beauties soon), but Mesa's duo was yummy.

But the best part was the staff. Before I got the sliders, the chef came out from the kitchen to ask if I had any food allergies because I ordered the mini-hamburgers without avocado. When I received the bill, the waitress wrote "Thank You!" with a smiley face. Perhaps she does it to all her customers, but it's a nice flourish. To right my karma in this world when it comes to waiters and tips, I left her 50 percent. All is forgiven, Mesa. Don't let your cabeza get too big ever again.

Mesa Restaurant, 2937 Bristol St, #H, Costa Mesa, (714) 444-4267. No photo of Mesa yet available; hence, a mesa.

Don't get confused by Google when you search for Taco Adobe. The website might say it's in SanTana but gives you an Orange address, and that's partially true. See, owners Patricio Dillon and Marco Esqueda ran their SanTana location for a couple of years before opening another in Old Towne Orange.They sold off the SanTana spot last year and are no longer associated with that Taco Adobe, and the quality there has summarily gone the way of Robert Bisno's CityPlace. Their Orange Taco Adobe, however, is a different story.

I went there on Monday with the chica, and the food was as great as ever. This isn't a dive on the level of Las Brisas de Apatzingan; there will always be more gabachos and pochos than wabs. But that's okay: Esqueda's cuisine is muy Mexi but lighter on the stomach, and his daily specials remain as delicious as any five-star restaurant may offer. The chica went with her standard, a beer-battered fish burrito, and I wish I could tell you if it's as tasty as I remember it, but she ate it in minutes; I was able to admire how Esqueda's cooks toast the burrito on each side to add a delightful snap. I, on the other hand, freely shared what Esqueda called his shrimp and scallops del sur, a simple sautee of the sea jewels in a complex, creamy sauce with ancho chilies and god-knows-what-else goodness. I wish there was more white rice offered to soak up the sauce, but I'm sure they'd give it to anyone free of charge if you just ask. The flan, while not on the level of Taleo, is top-notch with its dark-chocolate swirls.

But the point of this post: they now offer breakfast. Haven't tried it yet, but I'm sure it's as stellar as before. Go and enjoy some of the best chilaquiles since the proverbial mami.

Taco Adobe (the REAL one), 121 N. Lemon St., Orange, (714) 628-0633.

Yesterday, on my new KPFK-FM 90.7 Tuesdays @ 4 p.m. show, I was talking about last year's ridiculous proposal by the Los Angeles County Board of Supervisors to make carne asada a crime. I asked Erin Glenn, an organizer with the Asociación de Loncheros La Familia Unida de California, to name off some of her favorite Los Angeles-area taco trucks, and she rattled off the following list:

Tacos Colima, Mckinley Avenue and Florence Avenue, South Los Angeles

Tacos El Calusmo (sp?), Hoefner Avenue and Whittier Boulevard, East Los Angeles

Mariscos Colima, Alameda Street and Manchester Avenue, Los Angeles.

My producer, Alan Minsky, suggested La Estrella, off Avenue 54 and York in Highland Park, while my engineer Gee suggested El Torino off Olympic and Hoover. I, in my infinite Orange County food wisdom, blurted out my beloved Tacos El Chavito in Huntington Beach, home of the 50-cent taco and free pineapple juice.

Then, I froze.

I couldn't remember for the life of me where it was. I knew it was in Huntington Beach, but which cross street? I started to utter Edinger, but quickly took that back. I, I...failed.

Sorry, El Chavito, for denying you the KPFK nation. Everyone else: it's on Morgan Street, between Slater and Speer avenues, in Huntington Beach. Eat away, and don't commit the same mistake I did and forget where it is--EVER.

My continued favorite food happening is 2008 OC Weekly Best Restaurant Avanti Cafe's International Tuesdays, where $11.50 gets you a three-course meal of cuisines rare to these parts. This month's theme: regional cuisines of India, as follows. Note "Veronica" and "Bart" are the junior chefs at Avanti to owners Mark Cleveland and Tanya Fuqua in name only; they can outcook most any chef in Orange County:

Brahmin Veronica's PUNJAB
Tuesday, January 6
Dal Maharini - Punjab lentil soup
Sabzi Pulao - Vegetables & rice
w/ ginger chili
Mango Lassi - Mango yogurt drink

Swami Bart's BENGAL
Tuesday, January 13
Cholar Dal - Bengali lentil soup
Khatte Baigan Bhaji - Sweet & sour     eggplant
Narkol Nadu - Coconut cardamon drink

Maharincess Veronica's GOA
Tuesday, January 20
Tomato Coconut Soup
Cauliflower Pulao - Cauliflower stew w/ brown rice
Moira - Plantain croquettes

Yogi Bart's SOUTH INDIA
Tuesday, January 27
Dal Phokali - South Indian lentil soup
Vangi Batata Bahaji - Eggplant & potatoes w/ brown rice
Indian Brown Rice Pudding

I will be at each, although at different times due to my KPFK-FM 90.7 show at 4 p.m. every Tuesday. Find me at Avanti on Tuesday, and your international courses are on me!

Avanti Cafe, 259 E. 17th St., Costa Mesa, (949) 548-2224; www.avantinatural.com

Hint to restaurants: you'll get in my better graces if you offer great, non-alcoholic drinks. Beverages rank high on my palate, and I'll never forget the banana soda offered by a long-gone Honduran restaurant. Here, then, were my favorite drinks of the year.

1. Maker's Mark, neat, at Memphis at the Santora. Yes, you can get Maker's near everywhere, since the cool kids want to play hillbilly nowadays (but do they know the joys of getting blotto in high school on Jim Beam while cranking "Rocky Top" by the Osborne Brothers, followed by Hank Williams? Don't ask). But Memphis' bartenders remain top-notch, the danger for random hectoring is always amusingly high, and the cast of regulars is fast approaching Cheers level. Memphis at the Santora. 201 N. Broadway, Santa Ana, (714) 564-1064; www.memphiscafe.com.

2. Rosewater at Cafe Matinee. This Lake Forest Lebanese treasure actually sells two other drinks--date and mulberry juice--you probably won't find anywhere else in the county. But it's their rose water that is the best revelation, something so luxuriant you'll want to pour on someone and get, um, romantic. 23532 El Toro Rd., Ste. 15, Lake Forest, (949) 588-7511.

3. Mint tea at Kareem's Restaurant. I did this review years ago, and the quality of the food has never suffered. The falafels are still the best in Orange County, the owners still kind. End all meals with the mint tea--you'll never use sugar again. 1208 S. Brookhurst St., Anaheim, (714) 778-6829.

4. Whatever the hell green or red syrup a lot of Thai restaurants sell. You know what I'm talking about--a Christmas-red or -green drink usually called "red syrup" or "green syrup" or--in the mysterious case of Wheel of Life in Irvine--"blue boy." Is it native to Thailand? An Americanized take? Nothing more than syrup? Whatever it is, it's liquid crack. At most any Thai restaurant in Orange County.

5. Free water virtually at every restaurant. Better be grateful for what we have now, amigos!

Thus ends my blogging here for 2008. Gracias, thank you, gracias, to the loyal readers I can think off the top of my head (Melissa, hungrymomma & poppa, Cesar, Wonginator, DiamonDog, DanGarion, Ben Dayhoe), to the rest of you, and to all the commentators. Tune in on Monday, Jan. 5, for more great restaurants, crappy openings, scandals, and a lot of other desmadre. In the meanwhile, "Rocky Top"!

I tend to stay away from lists 'cause they're so easy to spit out, but guess what? With crazy deadlines this week, a cover story to turn in ASAP, and the fact that most of ustedes are probably too drunk to get up and read, you get lists for the next three days from me! Here's the first one: my top five hole-in-the-wall restaurants I reviewed this year:

1. Las Brisas de Apatzingan: Yeah, it's in a seedy part of SanTana, and the restaurant can sometimes get dirtier than what's acceptable even for dives, but few other places specialize in the cuisine of the Mexican state of Michoacán--and no one can deny the power of their green pozole, a bowl I described thusly:

Their green pozole stew comes in a large bowl and features a broth the color of AstroTurf. On the side is a plate of cabbage, diced onions, pumpkin seeds, some chicharron pieces, an avocado slice, a cotija cheese-stuffed jalapeño and two potato taquitos. Dump the cabbage, onions, chicharron, avocado and pumpkin seeds in the steaming pozole to make the cauldron cool. Eat the jalapeño (don't worry, there's so much sweet, unmelted cheese crammed into the swollen pepper that it wrestles the heat into a tasty truce) and dunk the taquitos into the pozole. Finish the sides, and start ladling the pozole into your mouth.

1524 S. Flower St., Santa Ana, (714) 545-5584.

2. Bangkok Taste: Thai Nakorn might get all the buzz, but I keep returning to this SanTana treasure because of the funny owner and a dessert of roti covered in frosting. Have yet to meet a bad item on their substantial menu, and I haven't even tried their famed green mussel omelette yet. 2737 N. Grand Ave., Santa Ana, (714) 532-2216.

"What do you think is better--breakfast or dinner at IKEA," my chica asked while she scarfed down pasta and vegetables with marinara sauce and I enjoyed a slightly-better-than-so-so chicken alfredo.

"Breakfast," I replied.

"Why," my best friend, Art, asked.

"Because it's cheaper," I said, before adding, "Besides, it's better food."

He cast me a mocking look. Yes, gentle readers: I'm a cheapskate. But IKEA is better for breakfast--99 cents for a so-so breakfast as opposed to $4 for the cheapest combo platter? No contest. This discussion quickly stopped, however, as I began forking through the mandeltarta, otherwise known as almond cake.

I've always been puzzled about the etymological origins of the nut, wondering why the English almond and Spanish almendra were so far apart from the Northern European mandel. I always thought that the Spanish word came first, derived from Arabic due to the Moors, then sailed across the English Channel allah other words like algebra, and that mandel derived from Old German or some other proto-tongue. But according to this entry (much more reliable than Wikipedia for etymological purposes, I tell you what), the two share the same root: amendla, from the Vulgar Latin.The al- in Spanish and English doesn't come from Arabic but Old French.

Strange...as is the flavor of IKEA's mandeltarta. It's almond overload: shaved almonds on top of an almond-spiked cream and almond bread. Don't expect a sugary, frosty concoction with the mandeltarta; it's just like its nutty in flavor, naturally creamy, not too sweet, underrated and quite the dessert. At a buck and change, it's a great dessert--and pared with lingonberry juice, perfect to fuel the IKEA homestretch with a chick that wants to buy every damn item.

IKEA, 1475 South Coast Dr., Costa Mesa, (714) 444-4532.

Since milady has the appetite of a puppy, and her business is near the Mother's Market in SanTana, I usually trek over there to buy the gal lunch. Their food court is a smaller version of the grand, wasteful buffet Whole Foods operates, and while some entrees seem appetizing (rice pilafs, soups), others define bad buffet food. I recently saw black-bean burritos in one tray, and beyond the fact that no respectable burrito features the dark legume (sorry, Chipotle fans: only the southern states of Mexico eat black beans, and the burrito is a borderlands phenomenon), I saw a lot of burritos soggy with their sweat. Soggy burritos make great weapons in TP-ing a house but as a foodstuff qualify as an insult slightly below mild habanero salsa.

I digress. Yesterday, I bought milady a slice of pizza--big, organic, sitting for only a couple of minutes, and quite pricey at $2.75. I haven't tried pizza-by-the-slice since the summer, when I was at a conference in Philadelphia and you could find multiple places that sold them by the buck. While getting her one, I noticed Mother's also offered a pizza with jalapeño and soy pepperoni. If I was going to get ripped off, why not do it twicely?

Too many mock meats have a greasy aftertaste to them, and Mother's soy pepperoni doesn't buck the trend. I would've liked more cheese, and a milkier kind at that. But the slice kept improving in flavor with every bite, until I reached it's glorious crust: crunchy like a chicharrón, not greasy at all, with a robust yeast flavor. I still say Mother's pizza-by-the-slice is a bit much, but buy a large one for about $18 and you'll have a good treat.

Mother's Market SanTana, 151 E. Memory Ln., Santa Ana, (714) 542-6667; www.mothersmarket.com

Had dinner earlier this week at Bangkok Taste in SanTana, my current fave Thai restaurant, with the mysterious Ben Dayhoe (contrary to popular rumor, he's not Mr. X). We enjoyed soups, fried tofu, their famous roti dessert, and the peanut-butter soup called khao soy. After our dinner (we ate with our respective ladies), the kind owner, who puts fresh roses on each table every day from her garden, gave the gals a Christmas present: flowers in a glass bubble. She then told us Bangkok Taste is closed all of next week for the holiday.

Business is good for the small restaurant--while we were there, I saw Thai families, Mexican rebels, a a really fat woman--but it can be better. They now open every Saturday at 5 p.m. due to the faltering economy. In order to boost its sales, I'll be there Jan. 3 at 5:15 p.m. First five people to join me get dessert on me.

Bangkok Taste, 2737 N. Grand Ave., SanTana, (714) 532-2216.

Still shaken from my disastrous encounter with Lola Gaspar a couple of days ago, I enjoyed lunch with my colleagues one door down at Memphis at the Santora. You can find me here at least once a week in the evening, usually the Drinking Liberally OC event, making an ass out of myself. Those days, I try to mitigate the Maker's with a soul burger, one of the great ones in la naranja. The few times I visit Memphis for lunch, I tend to stick with the popcorn shrimp tacos, crunchy snacks of joy. But when the waitress today mentioned that one of the specials was a fried-chicken sandwich, I asked for it immediately.

Fried chicken and I have a tough history. Too much fried anything get me sick after a lifetime of bad chicharrones experiences, and Memphis' regular fried chicken--whether as a bar appetizer or a meal--is too rich, too fatty for me, which is to say it's a perfect rendition. The fried-chicken sandwhich that came to my table, however, was beyond perfect--it's something I can eat every day. The hen was breaded, fried a bit but not so much that it melts into lard inside your mouth. I can't remember a juicer cutlet that this one, and it snuggled inside an egg bun alongside some type of dressing and a long, solitary pickle (bacon strips and tomatoes also accompany the sammich, but I declined the two since I've recently suffered a pork overload--more in next week's installment of This Hole-in-the-Wall Life!). I felt crunch, savoriness, tartness, tenderness, freshness with every bite: truly, an Orange County landmark on par with the Wedge. Just one caveat--Memphis' fried-chicken sandwich is a special, so you can't get it every day. Ask for it, demand it, and bring joy to all eaters this Christmas by making it a menu regular.

Memphis Cafe, 201 N. Broadway, Santa Ana, (714) 564-1064; www.memphiscafe.com.

I had a book signing a couple of weeks ago at Hibbleton Gallery, a great little art space in downtown Fullerton, but there was a problem--I arrived at 6:30, thinking my reading was scheduled for 7 p.m., when in fact it was an hour later. Famished, I asked one of the gallery guys, Jesse La Tour, about a nearby pizza place on my Hole-in-the-Wall Life list. His scrunched face was as necessary a food review as I needed. "What about Lizarrán?", milady inquired, and the three of us began walking.

The idea of tapas--small plates, each offering different flavors--has never particularly appealed to me. If I wanted bite-sized morsels, I go eat tacos; a buffet, I head off to Dosa Place's stunning lunchtime serenade. But my gal had visited before, and Edwin gave Lizarrán a glowing review way back when, so the idea of Lizarrán didn't immediately offend me. Nearly no one was there, however, when we sat--not good for a kinda-new restaurant in this economic environment.

Under that spirit, we hogged out. I can't remember the small plates I choose, being that the distance of time and a wine-pickled brain does wonders with memory. I do remember the ritual--to get cold tapas, eaters went to the back of a restaurant, where a disinterested man handed you a plate; warm tapas arrived via a perky young lady who described each plate in detail. Those were better--I remember different chorizos, cheeses, and other veggies--but I did like the cold ones save a selection with anchovies, only because I forgot how damn salty those critters are. The lady handed us a menu, and I might go back just to try some of the actual platters (we did munch down a glorious Spanish tortilla fast), but casual diners can do well with the small bites. If you find yourself in Fullerton with a hankering for a small meal, screw Taqueria de Anda and head east, young man. Besides, you're better off dealing with drunks than cholos.

Lizarran Tapas, 310 N. Harbor Blvd., Fullerton, (714) 879-9009; www.lizarrantapas.com.

I promised milady a special breakfast this morning, but she's the kind of gal who wants things her way. I suggested Anton Schwager's Jagerhaus, La Galette Creperie in San Clemente; she demanded The Filling Station, an Orange institution even though it truly hasn't been around that long, which goes to show how desperate our culture has become in latching on to anything with a possibility of lasting longer than a flash-in-the-pan.

We went early to find the restaurant beginning to buzz with the typical morning-in-Americana diners crowd: politicos hosting a meeting, grizzled men who probably were children during the Great Depression, working-class joes wanting to fill up before a hard day of work. The restaurant structure itself is a gem, a former gas station which makes you pine for the days where gas pumps weren't decorated with televisions flashing ads and excerpts of the KTLA Morning News (as much as I enjoy Sam Rubin, I don't want his hoarse gossip informing me while I try to make the gas-pump meter land on double-zeroes). But the food, alas, is lacking.

It's not a disaster--if someone ate there, I wouldn't give them a browbeating like, say, the foolish friend who recently boasted about enjoying Original Mike's. But the food quality doesn't match The Filling Station's high prices. I thoroughly enjoyed my turkey chili cheese omelette, and I don't even enjoy turkey--the ground meat remained juicy and distinct despite swimming in sea of brash chili sauce, and the side of hash browns nearly beat my stomach, so aptly burnt they were on the top and bottom. It was a big meal, but if I wanted to pig out, I'da gone to Norm's. If I'm paying eight-something (maybe even $9; I lost the receipt) for an omelete, it better be a gussied-up masterpiece ala what the guys over at Old Vine Cafe whip up every morning for just two bucks more. I understand that restaurants have to mark up prices due to the economy, but to that, I apply my bánh mì litmus tests: restaurants of Orange County--if the Vietnamese can deliver an amazing, delicious sandwich for two bucks right now, what's your excuse?

The Filling Station, 201 N. Glassell St. Orange, (714) 289-9714. Meh.