, in a storefront along César Chavez." "Is the food good?" "It's one of my Mother's favorite restaurants.
" That cinched it for me and soon we pulled into the parking lot behind the restaurant, squeezing his Honda between some silver, two-door and a wide, beat-up pickup. We entered the restaurant through the kitchen, passing through the baby-blue-with-pink-trim saloon doors along a small, thin hallway, into a narrow space crammed with tables, chairs, a flat stove sizzling with fresh-made corn tortillas. Green, white, and red crêpe paper hid the ceiling while pictures, newsclippings, placards and notices from Zagat's and the City of Los Angeles papered every inch of the walls.
False eaves covered with adobe tiles and the store windows painted with black lines and curlicues to appear as wrought iron fencing gave the room an almost-outdoor feel as if we had walked into the courtyard of a Mexican house. The host said something in Spanish to The Boyfriend and lead us to a booth near the front of the room. The waitress placed a steel bowl with fresh corn chips on the table and asked The Boyfriend in Spanish what he wanted to drink.
He answered in English, and I followed suit. She nodded and disappeared. I pointed to one item and asked if he tried the because I was very tempted.
However, knowing my stomach as well as I do, I decided to play it cautiously and chose the Milanesa Acapulco con pollo. (Think of it as chicken fried chicken with Spanish rice, charro beans and boiled potatoes.) The waitress took our order and that's when a notion took hold.
I grew up in Southern California, visited Los Angeles hundreds of times. We were mere blocks from the Music Center, the Walt Disney Concert Hall, the Museum of Contemporary Art. But here, in this little restaurant in a store front in East Los Angeles, where almost no one openly spoke English, I was a foreigner.
I almost mentioned it to The Boyfriend but realized how stupid I would sound. So I shelved the notion and enjoyed the delicious food set before us. Leaving the cramped parking lot turned into quite an ordeal, with The Boyfriend maneouvering a 10-point turn without hitting the cars beside him or the one parked directly behind.
With each succesive forward backward forward spin the wheel backward, we burst into uncontrollable laughter which carried over to the lot attendant who stifled a grin as we finally left the lot. A few lights from the restaurant, we turned, paid the $8 for parking and sauntered up the steps to the Music Center to see the latest show from Culture Clash. tells the story of twin brothers, nicknamed Water and Power by their father, who become powerful men in Los Angeles.
Water works as a power-hungry State Senator; Power serves as a top-ranking police officer with the LAPD. With one bullet, Water and Power find themselves at the wrong end of a power struggle with the warring factions of Los Angeles. With a deft blend of film noir, hispanic and chicano history, mysticism and comedy, Culture Clash brings a uniquely Los Angeles story to the stage.
Very intense and provocative with a riveting performance by as The Fixer -- a pseudo-gay, power broker who knows how to play all the gangs and politicians and police in Los Angeles to get what he wants. Lisa Peterson's excellent direction brings the modern day Greek tragedy to life. Ric Salinas, Richard Montoya and Herbert Siguenza (Culture Clash) all shine, bringing anger, pathos and humor to all their characters.
We hung around once the play ended to allow the almost-full theater to empty, and as we walked to the car, we noticed Dakin Matthews coming down the steps behind us and wished him well, telling him what a fantastic performance he gave. He thanked us, turned and walked down the hill toward Grand Ave. posted by Greg at 10:22 PM | 2 words of wisdom Total Eclipse of the Heart by Bonnie Tyler (and Nikki French and The Dan Band) music/lyrics by Jim Steinman Classic '80s song and a most definite gulty pleasure.
Even the straight boys at The Dan Band concert last Friday raised their beer glasses and chimed in with their somewhat slurred voices. (Click on the song title above for the video featuring interesting images of young men in football uniforms, bathing suits and church choir outfits!) In honor of my sweetie of a Boyfriend, I now present today's First Line.
...
Spring was never waiting for us, girl It ran one step ahead As we followed in the dance Probably one of the most recognizable songs from Donna Summer (one of my Boyfriend's favorite singers. He has a sign decorated with rhinestones and whatnot proclaiming his love for her that he brings to each concert), her version reached #1 on the U.S.
charts in 1978, becoming her first #1 single. The original, recorded by actor Richard Harris in 1968 and running for a staggering 7 minutes 20 seconds, reached the #2 spot in the U.S.
and #4 in the U.K. ("Weird Al" even does a version on his , in a storefront along César Chavez.
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