Now that's something I can agree with!

"After listening to a Frenchman talk about the superiority of French cuisine, the Englishman responds by saying, "Yes, but what about your dreadful lavatories?" To which the Frenchman replies, "Alors, in France one eats well, in England one shits well, it's all a question of priorities."
- Leon Rappoport, How We Eat: Appetite, Culture, and the Psychology of Food

Would you like a side of crazy with that burger?

So, my friend Zack-I and I (wow, say that ten times fast) couldn't think of anything that we wanted to eat the other day. Given that we weren't looking for something too involved, we ended up at Rick's on the corner of Fletcher and Riverside in Silverlake.

Mind you, I didn't necessarily recommend it, but it was there, and it was quick and easy. First things first. We walk in (I have been there on a couple other occasions) and Zack-I just laughs at the stereotypical Southern California 70s diner decor inside. Seriously, this thing hasn't been updated in a couple decades at least at this point -- pink naugahyde booths and all. We get in line to place our order at the counter and the girl behind the counter (loudly chatting in Español to the back of the house) finally looks up after a couple minutes with this abject look of I couldn't be bothered.


We order our burgers and fries and lower ourselves into one of the pepto-colored booths and wait. Food comes out quickly enough, and I must say, the burger is definitely one of the better ones I've had at a takeout joint in a while. The meat was succulent, and not cooked to undead status, and the buns were buttered and toasted. Fries were fresh, and light. So far so good. I'm thinking that I'm going to forgive the timewarp decor and even the attitude of the cashier...



And then Schizo-guy walks in. Imagine someone that looks like a distant and very tired looking older cousin of Billy Bob Thornton dressed in ripped construction pants, a faded flannel shirt and a ball cap, and you've got the idea. He's yelling at the counter as he's walking out the back door that he doesn't have any money for the coffee he ordered. If that were it, I would have said, "OK, that was weird" and left it at that but no. Guy keeps coming in and out. At one point, he's mentioning to one of the Latina employees (who pretended not to speak English at this point) that they should install 15-watt light bulbs in the bathroom to make it more "mood lit" while he sat on the throne and read in there. Um... when was the last time you remembered to take your meds, guy?

I'm getting amused at this all, and Zack-I is rolling his eyes while shoving more burger in his mouth. Schizoid leaves again after his request for "mood lit bathroom" is met with silence, and starts commenting on the cop that had just pulled someone over in Rick's driveway.

"Man, that's a mean looking sumbitch. I bet he was in the ARMY and got kicked out. Only LAPD would hire one of them and give them a gun. I remember when Daddy was in the ARMY and I have his discharge papers. I have the REAL ones. They don't give out the real ones like they used to anymore. I need to make sure that it's somewhere safe when the government comes knocking at the door. I'm so sorry Daddy, I shoulda spent more time with you. I'm missing you. But I kept your discharge papers safe..." So on and so forth. And the above is the part that actually made enough sense for me to remember.

So, boys and girls, if you go to Rick's (and by all means do -- the food is cheap and really not bad), remember to stay for the slice of human life drama that comes with your order. The characters are definitely there.

"Welcome to Rick's, may I take your order? And would you like a side of lithium or a razor blade with your Asada Burrito and fries?"

BBQn at the Autry...

If you think it might be fun to go to BBQn at the Autry...

Don't

If you think you're going to get to sample succulent pieces of freshly smoked chicken, tri-tip, or pork...

Don't

If you think that you won't be gouged for beverages...

Don't

If you...

Don't. Don't. Don't. Don't. Don't.

DON'T

(Thanks Edgar Wright!)

I hate to be negative here, but I just got back from BBQn at the Autry -- a local LA cookoff, and was so disappointed, I had to put an entry here.

First, you get there, pay your entrance fee ($9) and then are promptly informed that due to LA health code requirements, the 32 contestants of the cookoff will NOT be offering samples. WTF??? So, I'm supposed to inhale BBQ smoke and not get anything to eat? Well, there were two vendors that served food. Given that I wasn't about to fork over $5 for a hotdog I lined up at the LONG line for Silvio's Brazilian BBQ.

Talk about a clusterfuck! I ended up in line for over an hour and a half, and then they decide shortly before I'm at the front of the line that they're serving from two windows. So, until people started noticing, there were some people who actually got served in less than five minutes while others (like me) waited for an hour and a half. Whatever... I was so hungry by that time, I wasn't about to join the other people who started complaining and bitching and almost brawling.

I got a "Carnavale Plate" which was supposed to be 1/2 pound each of tri-tip, chicken, and calabresa with two sides, and bread. I didn't get any calabresa, and only got double serving of salads since they apparently ran out. Hmm... too bad they failed to mention it the substitutions to me. The chicken and beef were fine, but it wasn't a revelation or anything. It was filling, and tasty enough, and the entire staff did sing their version of "ole ole ole ole" (Y'know the Brazilian soccer anthem) as was promised on the menu.

All in all, I have to say that this is exactly what a cookoff/food festival should never be. I think this is akin to being in one of those states where you can get arrested for getting a hard-on during a lapdance. That is, be punished for being aroused by the tittilation being provided by the establishment. By the time they were announcing the winners, I just couldn't care less. I didn't taste any of the Q being judged, and it was getting really cold really fast. I got out of there about as fast as a rat off a sinking ship.

If you see a flyer next year, and think you should go to this... Just remember.
DON'T!