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We live in Silver Lake, over on the northeastern side of things, and slowly we're building our culinary experiences. Select a Category on the right to get started.

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Dave and Bianca

More Mexican restaurant recovery prescription
7408 W. Sunset Blvd. (West Los Angeles)
Phone: 323-874-7924 | map
1449 W. Sunset Blvd. (Echo Park)
Phone: 213-250-4505 | map
website (barely, and mind the music)

After getting home at nearly three in the morning, we have our usual recovery methodology: eat Mexican food and nap for the remainder of the Sunday. Sometimes we head west instead of east.

The El Compadre in Hollywood is a reliable stop along the string of musicians' stores on Sunset west of La Brea. The nearly unlit interior causes some blinking until you can see, but the decor is resplendent: deep red vinyl, brick red tile, black iron chandeliers. Heavy lanterns of iron and wood hang above your table like hexagonal anvils.

El Compadre is known for their "Flaming Margarita," but we stick with the less embarrassing, traditional on-the-rocks margaritas, sneaky concoctions in a big old-fashioned glass. We dig into those, and the shiny, lip-slicking tortilla chips. The salsa is ruddy and mean, but without much endurance. The albondigas soup is warm and full-bodied like a hug from a favorite aunt, densely seasoned and not heavy on the celery.

The plates are the classic Mexican restaurant blast from the past you know and love, radiating heat as if fresh from a kiln, the sauces sharpened around the edges, the pepper-dashed rice darkened to goldenrod, the big and beany refried beans covered with cheese that never quite stops melting, spotted with enough burn marks for contrast.

You know me--I have to indulge occasionally my inner childhood gringo--so I check out the combinations. Rather than a "one taco, one enchilada combo," they call it the Vagabundo, which I like. Bring me the Vagabundo! And do not let him escape! Vengeance is mine! On a long plate of cheese-laden heat, the enchilada is bulkier than most, combining crispy with fluffy. The beef in the taco is somewhere between ground and shredded, and really not the most important part; that is the lettuce, the thin line of white sauce, and the glistening shell, begging to be snapped apart and devoured with wedgefuls of beans and red sauce.

The Enchilada de Jaiba Estilo Vallarta is a long, lovely name for a crab meat enchilada in ranchera sauce. You cannot see what's going on here, what with the cheesy white lava, but the meat is almost obliterated, leaving only the scent and pungent essence of crab.

The Carne con Chile Verde is more conventionally titled. Fatty cubes of pork are done to a fork-slicing tenderness, flecked with spicy red and green bits in a rich, complex tomatillo sauce. I am enamored of the rustic corn tortillas, slightly scorched, into which I pile spoonfuls of the chile verde.

Way down on the bottom of the right page of the menu are some quietly superior Grilled Fish Tacos. So far Bianca and I have gotten these, both on the same night, on two separate occasions, because they're that good.

The fish is superbly grilled and tender with the gentlest of crunchy exterior, and are incredibly friendly with the white cheese, cabbage, refried beans and occasional hint of green pepper. After some excavation with a fork, the pale, scratchy, mostly-bendy corn tortillas can be rolled up and devoured.

The dishes can climb into the twenties when getting into the camarones and the bisteca, but many combos are under nine bucks.

The West Hollywood El Compadre is a hot spot, so a dinner experience will be long and loud, but lunchtime is perfect, after which you may stumble outside, full, slow and hissing like Sleestaks at the brilliant sun. There is a parking lot in back for about ten cars. It has a nice two-in-the-morning closing time.

The Echo Park location has a bigger lot (let's say fourteen cars), slower but just as friendly service, and is more airy and lit. We haven't determined how late they're open.

If only they had a bottle of Arrack
9035 Reseda Blvd. (hidden somewhere in Northridge)
Phone: 818-998-6900 | map

I came across Priyani during a halfhearted street fair in Encino, tired of ignoring the offers for discounted chiropractic adjustment and requests to join local alliances. Steaming curry dishes, offered with broad smiles from this booth, had me pocketing their menu until I could make my way over to their hidden kitchen.

You will neverevereverever find this place if you were just driving about searching for a new favorite Sri Lankan restaurant between classes at CSU Northridge.

Its interior is an attempt to convert what would be a liquor store or a supermarket space (unsurprising since it's stuffed next to an Indian market) into a comfortable, homely kitchen. Southeast Asian influences abound: red Buddha statues, Thai elephant prints, Indian cloth, tiny Chinese lanterns. Good curry smells draw you in. You may have to ding the bell if the place seems empty, but chopping sounds will be heard from behind the wall.

Enjoy a vibrantly sour but silky iced tea as you peruse the abbreviated menu. There are regular items, but look for whatever they're making that day, and if someone recommends something to you, take it.

This is not a smiley face, but it might as well be. The patti is familiarly shaped, a plush, flaky shell hiding meat chopped into a chicken salad-like filling. The bouncy spheres called cutlets have a lot of give without being oily and abrasive; you can collapse them to half their thickness without breaking the exterior. The flavor is much like the Lebanese kibbeh at Skaf's.

Both appetizers could use more warmth, but a sriyani sauce is available, like a ruddy sriracha with a burst of throat heat.

This is Mutton Kotthu. I could say there's things in this dish like crispy onion, thin slivers of scallion, carrot and tomato, but those ingredients are in lots of dishes across the world, and don't describe the depth of this creation.

Roti, a thin, unleavened bread of Gothamba flour, is cut into squares and rendered until stained dark with spice, its texture like Thai flat noodles--amazingly so. The mutton is as soft as stewed beef, but resilient as faith, imparting its strong flavor to the murky roti. You may need to impale some of it on a fork and wrest it away from the bone with your teeth. It's worth it.

This was a recommendation given to me while perusing the menu; I promptly got lost trying to follow its description and have failed to satisfactorily record its contents, but nodded enthusiastically. It combines lots of their curry and biryani dishes; the entire affair is prepared atop basmati rice, gathered up in a massive banana leaf, and steamed.

There is chicken curry, delicate and moist and indicative of how good their chicken curries are by themselves. Chopped onion is made meek and yielding. Eggplant is deeply colored and tasty. Plantains like reedy potatoes are there, skin included, but steamed soft and yellow with spice.

You know kari,those curry leaves, those tiny ones that aren't bay leaves but are usually placed in southeast Asian dishes to stab you in the mouth and force you to draw them out? These are actually cooked, curling with heat, and soft enough to be edible. Even one of those spherical cutlets is included, falling apart. All of these give a splendid aftertaste and a low-key burn.

A tiny, blissful bit of wholesome
5907 Hollywood Blvd. (@ Bronson)
Phone: 323-466-7958 | map | website

If, after you've exited the Los Angeles City Attorney's office on Hollywood Boulevard, acquired some smoking paraphernalia from No Limit Tobacco & Pipes, gotten a Thai massage, and decided upon a shoulder piece from Atomic Tattoo, you happen to be hungry, Truly Vegan is most happily positioned.

Seven tables of--I'm tired of always saying chlorophyll, so I'll say they're Dartmouth Green--line the walls. The pale golden floor might be bamboo, but is patterned to look like distressed wood planks. They may not be gushingly friendly here, but they are attentive, and despite its not being on the menu they kindly made me a sweet and creamy iced coffee when I asked.

I like my vegan food solid and hearty, and the Loafing About works for me. A lentil loaf is heavily seasoned and grilled, with onions and red peppers chopped finely enough so that they lend only their presence rather than a stubborn crunch. The texture is dense like hash browns yet almost pillowy. The loaf comes dry, and with it is a squeeze bottle of some really good homemade ketchup, and some white sesame blend with lime, almost like spicy, sassy milk.

Steamed broccoli and cauliflower are there to bolster the generally unused corner of my four food groups. I pour the sesame sauce on them, too. Fluffy brown rice is there too, not vital, but well-made.

The Lad Na is more liquid than expected for standard Thai, wide rice noodles falling nearly apart from their total immersion in black bean soy gravy. The gravy itself is a gelatinous, soupy lake that holds its heat like a muzzled dragon; draped over the broccoli and tofu, it renders them too hot to enjoy until they're well-blown upon.

You can add soy fish, chicken or seitan on this, more for the textural analog than for similarity of flavor. The Lad Na is even better the next day.

There's breakfast for lunch, too. It's good, occasionally, to move away from the astoundingly good but psychotically flavored specialties of some places. Several combinations of pancakes abound here, and the Breakfast of Champions puts them all together. Wheat free, gluten free pancakes are comfortable and surprisingly good, with maple syrup and melty vegan margarine atop. Two big, convincing patties of soy chicken are sliced like katsu and fried into something puffy, sweet and almost pastrylike.

The effect isn't exactly Roscoe's, but it's grainy and comforting, missing nothing except that feeling of creamy uselessness one gets after pancake breakfasts. A glass of cool vegan milk, subtle with that sides-of-the-tongue tinge of almond, goes well with this.

Parking is usually found along Hollywood, probably by the Toyota dealer.

Sandwiches from Heaven, or maybe the other place
1013 Alpine St. (north of Sunset)
Phone: 213-250-2464 | map | website

You have to hunt for it, nestled among hilly avenues where the 101 and the 110 meet. Dip under the awning; a darkened counter, slowly turning ceiling fans, and the hum of refrigeration units greet you.

It's not like my family, but it is familial, and these men are serious about what they do. Sandwiches are rapidly assembled and rung up; your drinks are (pointing to the left) over there, dispensed or bottled. There may be a brief sense of "am I doing this right? Where am I supposed to stand? Is it supposed to be this dark?" before you get into the rhythm of it.

So. You know how some places quaintly offer "meat lovers" items? This Eastside specialty chases them down, takes their lunch money, and leaves them with a painful wedgie.

Vegetarians look away! Carnage ahead!

... Okay. Proceeding.

This predatorial paradise is the D.A. Special. Layers of roast beef. Pastrami. And one Italian sausage. And a meatball. Each of these is high quality content and makes a superb sandwich on its own, but combined they become certifiable and knuckle-crackingly dangerous.

All that "is he gonna live, Doctor?" red stuff you see is a sauce of cooked peppers and flattened tomatoes that binds everything together and adds sweetness. Strong, soulful sheets of melted mozzarella lie underneath, maxing out my alliteration allowance for the day. The roast beef is dark and supple, the pastrami pink and fatty, both moist and covering the pale, snappy link of Italian sausage like a winter blanket.

Can it actually be picked up and eaten? Not yet. Eventually. Go at it with a fork for a while. In any case, the soft, toasty Italian bread will become worn and sodden and unable to perform its duties as a meat delivery device. Once you get through half, the strata of meat looks like an intense cross-section of something out of a textbook, and you will probably give up and wrap it to go.

A little more recognizable is the Combination Cold Cuts sandwich. A nice three-quarter-inch layer of ham, turkey, salami and mortadella is stacked with mozzarella, tomato and shredded lettuce. The soft Italian roll is not so overpowered here. A very light basting of mayo and mustard can be savored.

Their potato salad is very slightly sour, and I'm not wild about it, but the macaroni salad is well-mixed, and properly cool and creamy.

Eastside is open until four during the week and two on Saturday. On Sundays they take a break. Street parking can be found easily.

The Indian Plate meets the North American Plate*
5515 Wilshire Blvd., (@ the El Rey Theatre)
Phone: 323-936-7070 | map
2815 Sunset Blvd., (in Silver Lake)
Phone: 213-483-7778 | map
website

Baba, the creator of Electric Lotus and Electric Karma, has this newer venture, tucked into the right column of the El Rey Theatre entryway.

The first time we came here, the El Rey was hosting a goth industrial event, and our noses and sudden appetites led us here. If you're ever in a position to enjoy masala spinach tacos and tandoori chicken burritos at one-thirty in the morning while The Sisters of Mercy boom in the next room, you should do.

The new Silver Lake location is much more put together, less bustling soup kitchen than hip lounge, with rust-colored walls highlighted with fuchsia and violet. Hanging lamps of stained glass throw rainbows around the interior. The Buddha on the wall smiles demurely at the Buddha outside Gobi Mongolian BBQ.

Street food from India it might be, but Indian street food after a hungry band of caballeros rode through. The concepts of "tandoori" and "tikka masala" have had an illicit affair with "burrito" and "quesadilla" and "cheese fries," and the resultant love child is a strangely familiar satisfaction. Extra-virgin olive oil is used for everything, so the food doesn't get too heavy.

The tortilla chips are made from pappadam, which we think is the best idea ever. Jars of chutneys accompany it: a mossy green coriander with a nose-sniffy bite, a dark, vegetal mint, an adobe red that looks vicious but is really just a tamarind chutney, and a thick sweet brown with an applesauce consistency. At the El Rey location you get spicy sauces in big squeeze bottles.

The samosas here are bulky tricornered hats, gently steaming with curry-yellowed potatoes and peas. Three of the chutneys make a decorative lagoon around it. It's a fine appetizer, though not yet indicative of the crossover you're about to try.

The Tandoori Fish Burrito doesn't provoke brilliant words to describe it, but it is warm and friendly, a bulky mound filled with spanish rice, white fish painted golden with termuric, and the occasional sliver of lettuce, tomato or cilantro. It has an elegant, zenlike balance, and welcomes the occasional spoonful of one of the four chutneys. It works better than the chicken, which gets too firm in spots, and the tofu, which buckles under a burrito's weight.

Served open-face, the Naanwich is more of a Chicken Tikka Masala served on a puffy tostada than a sandwich per se. Potentially one could force the issue into a grand taco affair, but it works better as a dish with utensils and an edible plate. There are also fish, shrimp, spinach and tofu versions of this.

The naan (Bink likes the garlic, I like the whole wheat) is an excellent vehicle, barely sweet, just firm enough to resist cutting, and good for soaking up extra masala, or chutney, or anything else. It is gorgeous. Brilliant. The chicken collapses under the fork, and you don't notice the slow burn until halfway through. Spanish rice surrounds it, flavorful but unobtrusive.

Masala Cheese Fries! Richly red and fragrant, it's fulfilling like chili fries but seems, well, healthier. The fries are already good on their own, seasoned and crispy, but dragging long strands of melting cheese and orange masala sauce behind them.

Both the lime-lemonade and the Chai iced tea are subtle and refreshing, whether under a Mojave sun or a Mumbai sun.

Cowboys & Turbans is open until 10 according to the website, midnight according to the takeout menu, but they may stay open late when a club night is happening next door. Prices are a little steep, but if you've fought your way along the Wilshire corridor and found parking with the intent to eat here, you're already bloody-minded about having your Tex-Mexindian fix fulfilled. At the Silver Lake location, parking can be fought over with Gobi.

* I'm referring to tectonic plates, of course. You know... what the lithosphere is separated into? Didn't you study your geography?