MenuPlease at Los Gordos: Offal Isn’t Awful

As noted before in this space, Redding seems to have more Mexican restaurants per square inch than any other town in the Sacramento Valley. If anyone can come up with a reasonable explanation, please speak up. This is not a complaint, you understand, just a query: we love Mexican food and eagerly seek out new, authentic places and hope for their success. Taqueria Los Gordos opened about two years ago at the corner of Pine and Tehama, in a space long occupied by the Far East Cafe for many years, and then various take-out places came and went.

Femme de Joie was intrigued by the opening of a Mexican restaurant one block from the 10-plus-years-old and successful La Cabana. She assumed the owners must be doing something to set themselves apart, and indeed they are. Los Gordos leans toward the more rustic, authentic dishes. Yes, they have tacos, burritos, enchiladas, etc., but it's the ingredients that are definitely interesting and less Americanized than their neighbor‘s offerings. In addition to carne asada, chile verde, carnitas and pollo asado, you can also get lengue (tongue), chorizo, buche (pig's stomach) and tripitas (tripe).

Now stop those gagging noises. You've never tried it, have you? Or if you did, it was probably stinky and badly cooked. Americans are offal-phobic, and more's the pity: cooked with gusto and skill, those bargain parts of the animal make delicious, if full-flavored, eating.




Interior of Los Gordos. Order at the counter and help yourself to an assortment of house-made salsas, pickled jalapenos, hot carrots and fresh radishes. They'll bring your order to your table.



Chips with pico de gallo, salsa verde and mild salsa.



Al pastor enchilada, tripitas taco, rice and beans, $6.49.

Al pastor, crisp niblets of pork along with bits of fat and skin, was a bit on the dry side but had good pork flavor. The tripitas was delicious: lightly breaded and fried, the strong flavor tamed a bit but still recognizable, with that characteristic chewy texture. The taco itself, made with two soft corn tortillas barely encasing the generous filing, was about half the size of what Americans think of as a taco, a notion firmly implanted by Taco Bell and its ilk. Refried beans were housemade, creamy and fresh.



On another visit M. de Joie tried the Super Burrito with lengua (tongue), $6.49. This is a huge burrito for the money and it was more than enough for lunch. The tongue was simmered until tender and diced. Its mild flavor got a bit lost with all the other ingredients; the sour cream was overwhelming. The carne asada or another more assertive filling might be a better choice in the burrito, or skip the sour cream altogether.



Taqueria Los Gordos is one of the few local restaurants to offer ceviche, which M. de Joie is very fond of, but unfortunately she cannot recommend it. This ceviche tostada ($2.79) appeared to have been made the day before or perhaps before that. The fresh textures and colors had faded; the main tastes were lime and hot chile and the fish itself was mushy.

Overall, Femme de Joie likes Taqueria Los Gordos and suggests it as an authentically Mexican and inexpensive way to become acquainted with some of the less popular (among Americans) parts of the pig and cow. If you can't quite bear to sample buche, go anyway and try the chicken or carnitas. Warm up slowly to the other items.

Taqueria Los Gordos, 1400 Pine Street, Redding (corner of Pine and Tehama). 530-242-6224. Also at 5200 Churn Creek Road, Redding, 530-222-5081. Open 9:30 AM to 9:00 PM seven days a week. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Vegetarian and vegan options. Cash, credit and debit cards. Beer. On-street parking.

San Francisco’s Vital Tea Shop

In June 2010 Femme de Joie and Amico del Signore were wandering the streets of San Francisco's Chinatown on an early summer evening. We browsed the identical shops with identical brocade jackets and other gewgaws destined to be garage sale items in a few years, and stepped over the hoses from the nearly-closed greengrocers washing the sidewalks for the night. After a stop at a bakery for some bow ties (deep-fried pastry heavily coated in honey) and a bag of those addictive almond cookies, we stepped into a small, modern storefront with a long counter and seats on one side and shelves of tea canisters on the other. A gaggle of Canadian tourists were seated at the counter, listening closely as a young man served up free samples and described the health benefits of the various teas. At the invitation of co-proprietor Carina, we slipped into seats and were soon entranced by the experience served up.




We were both accustomed to the standard British method of making tea: preheat teapot, bring water to full boil, add one teaspoon tea per cup (or one teabag), and let steep five minutes. As the tea served at Vital was unlike anything we'd ever tasted before, so was the preparation. First you rinse the tea. Yes. Rinse it: put the leaves in the brewing container, add a small amount of water and rinse, then drain off and discard the water. After that add very hot water - just below the boil - and let steep 20 to 40 seconds, then serve the tea. What was even more surprising was that most of the teas at Vital could be used four to six more times with no loss of flavor.

And the flavors: these were a completely different animal from Lipton's or Red Rose. The jasmine pearl was by far the most fragrant and flavorful jasmine tea we'd ever had. Mango was like drinking a ripe mango. Others reminded us, variously, of grass, spinach, or toasted wheat. We particularly liked sticky rice (a taste and smell exactly like its namesake), bamboo, and lychee black.

Jason (the proprietor behind the counter) explained about the different types of tea and what health benefits each holds. Green tea is an anti-oxidant, calming, and relaxing, as is white tea. We were unfamiliar with pu-erh, which comes in small, tightly compressed cakes. It's unique because of its underground fermentation method and it becomes smoother with age. According to Jason, it treats digestion, upset stomach, acid reflex, constipation, and cuts grease and fat.

We sampled over a dozen different teas, each served in the tiniest cups you've ever seen. What fascinated us was that Jason drank each cup of tea right along with us. He does this all day long and never gets tired of it.





The topic of cost came up. How could it not, when a few of the canisters were clearly marked as selling at $400 or $800 per pound? Jason pointed out that yes, some teas are quite dear; even $40 a pound might sound like a lot. But a pound of tea leaves is a lot of tea; prepared according to his method with multiple reuses, it will last far longer than you would ever dream. You need a very small amount tea to make multiple servings - enough to serve all day long. And not to beat that familiar comparison to death, but if you buy a Starbucks coffee every day, you're spending a LOT more on one cup of coffee than you would on enough tea to provide you with six cups a day.



Some tea comes in hard-compressed spheres, to be broken apart and rinsed, then brewed. Other types are dried flowers that open up in hot water like an anemone.

There is never any pressure whatsoever to buy; when the Canadian tourists simply got up and left after a good hour drinking free tea, Jason and Carina were serene and unperturbed. They see this as an education and experience. Whether or not you believe in the purported benefits of drinking tea, Vital opened our eyes to new flavors we had never experienced. It's worth a visit, both for the tasting and for the friendliness and kindness of Jason and Carina.

Vital Tea Leaf, 905 Grant Avenue, San Francisco, CA 94133, 415-981-9322, also at 1044 Grant Avenue and 1199 Pacific Avenue. Branches in Seattle. Website
http://www.vitaltealeaf.net/index.php?main_page=index

Celestino’s is Real New York Pizza

It had been a bad summer for Ronny Cammareri Jr. 2010 had started out good: he was living at home rent-free. There was a fine looking chick he'd met at the candy store that was a definite prospect. He was going to classes at Kingsborough when he felt like it or whenever his old man, Ronny Sr., got on his case. "You're gonna wind up like your Uncle Johnny! Twenty-two years old and still livin' at home!" He'd wave that gloved hand at him like an augury of doom. Mostly Ronny Jr. just shone it on. Loretta, his mom, was still, in the words of his friend Richie, babelicious. She wasn't harsh like his old man. She seemed to understand his need to have a little fun - maybe because she had always been a serious girl with a tragic end to her first marriage.

But then things turned upside down. Loretta came home one day in the spring with big news: her Uncle Raymond and Aunt Rita had franchised Cappomaggi's Deli and wanted Loretta and Ronny to oversee the California operations from the west coast headquarters in Chico, California. It was a new opportunity - get out of that crumbling house on Cranberry Street, move to California, get a tan, maybe have a swimming pool. It would be good for Ronny Sr. to move out of the basement of that bakery. And since Ronny Jr. wasn't exactly overwhelmed with prospects for living on his own, he moved with them.

If it had been L.A., he could have dug it, speeding down Sunset Boulevard in an open-top convertible, a gorgeous blonde beside him, waving to Brad and Charlize. He could have gotten a job as a trainer to the stars - after all, he worked for a while cleaning the Gold's Gym in Brooklyn Heights, so he knew a thing or two about lifting weights. But no: here he was stuck in this place no one ever heard of - at least, no one he knew ever heard of Chico.

It depressed him to walk around. People here were so cheerful. "Have a nice day!" they'd chirp, and they seemed to mean it. They were all into yoga, or jogging, or Pilates - whatever that was. They rode bikes and wore bright clothes. Nobody sat on the stoop in the evening. And nobody here spoke his language: on the second day in Chico he asked a hot babe where the candy store was and she directed him to Shubert's Ice Cream and Candy.

God, did he miss New York.



One hot night, Ronny Jr. was stumbling downtown after two too many at the Town Lounge: a date with the babe who sent him to Shubert's turned ugly when she wanted to go to Monk's Wine Bar, then got pissy with him for making fun of the ambiance and the crowd. He was just having a goof but she took it all wrong. He headed up Salem toward the campus, then stopped abruptly. Something in the air.... smelled like home.



There was a line out the door of Celestino's. Ronny's nose drew him closer to the crowd. As soon as he got inside the door he could see the pizzas in the display case. If he had been drunk before, he was now intoxicated with the pizza aroma. "Gimme a schlish oof scheese," he garbled to the Amy Winehouse wannabe at the counter. She rolled her eyes but took his money, dispensing a little ‘tude too. For the first time in two months, Ronny felt comfortable.



In a few minutes Ronny was outside on the sidewalk clutching what looked like the real thing: thin-crust pizza on a cheap paper plate, scattering of melted cheese, patina of olive oil glowing on top. He folded the slice in half and took a bite. He staggered against the wall. Tears came to his eyes. A miracle had occurred. In this yuppie enclave, in this stinkin' hot valley town full of smiley Californians all having a nice day, God had set down real New York pizza. It wasn't that overstuffed pillow with gobs of cheese and broccoli and artichokes that passed for pizza out here. This was the real deal.



He shoved the last bites into his mouth and wiped his oily fingers on his jeans. Amy Winehouse was out on the sidewalk taking a smoke break. "How youse like the pizza?" Youse! He'd already been called Joe Pesci for saying youse. And this chick said youse too!

"Yeah, it's real good." Ronny furtively felt his face to brush away strings of cheese and pizza crumbs. "It's just like home."

"Try the Godfather," Amy said, pronouncing it Gawdfodda. "It's real popular."

"Eh... where you from?" She looked suspicious. "I mean... you're not from here." Her face lit up, as much as Amy Winehouse could.

"Fresh Meadows," She exhaled a fug of smoke. "I was going to St. John's but I got sick of my family raggin' on me so I came out here to go to school." She extended her hand. "Hey... I'm Tina."

Oh thank you Saint George Steinbrenner, Ronny thought.

Celestino's Pizza, 101 Salem Street, Suite 1, Chico, California 95926, 530-896-1234,, also 1354 East Street, Chico, and locations in Oroville and Rocklin. Open seven days a week. Vegetarian and vegan options. Website and menu at http://www.celestinospizza.com/ (click on Rocklin location for menu listing).

MENUPLEASE AT KOBE: THE TOM JONES OF RESTAURANTS

To look at the impressive faux-Italianate façade on the new restaurant at the corner of Shasta and Market Streets - the Sherven Square complex - you'd think that, well, a Tuscan restaurant was housed there. There's nothing Asian about the terra-cotta colored exterior and the false shutters on second-story windows. The cheesecake portrait of a - what? Teppanyaki warrior? - on the southwest wall that might be at home on a black velvet canvas. Walk inside and it's, "Toto, we're not in Roma any more."



Clearly a lot of money was poured into the ultra-modern design, though it can't seem to make up its mind as to whether it's industrial chic or ersatz Vegas glitz.



The cocktail bar-cum-sushi bar is sleek with burnished metal counters and minimalist décor and subtle lighting. Femme de Joie recently perched herself at Kobe‘s bar, waiting for an old friend who wanted to go there for her birthday. A glass of Folie a Deux 2004 Zinfandel (Amador County) was a luscious rich treat; too bad that for $7 the pour was rather skimpy.



Seating is available at the sushi bar, at the communal teppanyaki tables, or at smaller tables for ordering items from the kitchen. Birthday Girl wanted teppanyaki, so that is where we sat, along with about six other diners. The idea is to watch the show: the setup is not geared toward conversation, which became evident when M. de Joie - seated next to Birthday Girl - could see B.G.'s lips moving but could only catch about every fourth word she said. It was that noisy.

The procedure for teppanyaki goes thusly: You order your choice of meat or fish - New York steak, chicken, salmon, etc. Soup and salad are brought by waitresses, as you watch the chef go through his schtick to prepare the rest of the meal. Onion soup (miso is also available) was a bit oily and had a few rings of onion in a thin broth accented with soy. In a Tom Waitsian moment, the wasabi-ginger dressing beat up the bowl of iceberg lettuce ... the lettuce just wasn't strong enough to defend itself.

Meanwhile, back at the teppanyaki table: the chef had done a baton routine with spatulas, tossed a raw egg around, and emptied large bowls of cold cooked rice and prepped vegetables onto the grill. He piled up onion rings, poured cooking oil inside the tower, and set it on fire. He flipped bite-sized pieces of vegetable at each diner, none of whom actually caught it in their mouths (it is to be hoped someone versed in the Heimlich maneuver is on staff at all times).



First cooked is the fried rice, which then is scooped up and placed on each diner's plate, followed by grilled assorted vegetables and two shrimp. Then the meat and fish are added to the grill, cooked, seasoned, cut up, and distributed to the diners who ordered them. Two small bowls of sauce are available for dipping, including an addictive lemon-pepper Yum Yum sauce.





Teppanyaki Scallops

The scallops were perfectly cooked, tender, and moist, possibly the best scallops M. de Joie has ever had. The fried rice, when freshly cooked, was delicious, but as it cooled M. de Joie became acutely aware of how salty it was. M. de Joie adores salty foods like Parmesan cheese, anchovies, potato chips, and smoked fish, but the salt added by the chef on top of soy sauce made the rice mega-sodium-heavy. Mixed vegetables were adequate but seemed to be just filling up space on the plate. There was nothing special about them.

We were seated at 5:30 p.m. By 6:30 the show was over, the other diners at our table had departed, and there was a line out Kobe's door. Waitresses were looking pointedly in B.G. and M. de Joie‘s direction. The menu had listed several interesting desserts, such as panna cotta and blackberry sorbet ($6 each) but no one offered us a dessert menu or suggested we move elsewhere to continue dining. The bill - salmon, scallops, two glasses of wine - came to $55, not including tip. And frankly, M. de Joie was not exactly stuffed.

The lines out the door indicated that Kobe is doing something right to bring the crowds in, but whether it will endure once the novelty factor wears off is yet to be seen. For Femme de Joie, dinner at Kobe is the culinary equivalent of a Tom Jones concert. There's lots of shaking and stirring, a whole lotta showboating, renditions of the greatest hits, and then it's all over and we need to clear the theater for the next show. Move along, please. To be sure, it's entertaining, but you're paying for all that showmanship. The food is secondary.

Kobe Steak and Seafood, 1300 Market Street, Redding, 530-244-1440. Open daily. Sushi bar. Lunch and dinner. Reservations recommended. Sake, wine, and beer. Vegetarian and vegan options. Street parking. Cash and credit/debit cards.

MenuPlease at El Mariachi’s: Good Mexican at Four Corners

The spot occupied by El Mariachi's has seen a host of restaurants come and go over the years. If Femme de Joie's memory serves her, El Mariachi's was previously owned by the fine folks at La Cabana and has been under the current ownership for about two years. M. de Joie ate there once shortly after the new management took over and wasn't too impressed, but thought it was time to give it another try.

El Mariachi's has a spacious interior with tables and booths, plus a sort of enclosed verandah separate from the inside, where booths have a window view of Churn Creek Road. There's a salsa bar where diners can choose from an assortment of house-made salsas (pay heed to the signs: what looks like guacamole is actually pureed jalapenos) and accompaniments like hot carrots, lime wedges, and a mixture of chopped onion and cilantro.



A flyer on the table advertised specialty tacos, including lengue (tongue), buche (pig's stomach) and shrimp ceviche. The buche had a nice chewy texture and a mild taste, while the tongue was delicately flavored and wonderfully tender. These tacos were about half the size of Taco Bell-type tacos, each wrapped in two steamed corn tortillas, with mild salsa and chopped cilantro. Two or three of these make a lovely light lunch - or a nice appetizer for a hungrier person.



The shrimp ceviche taco was outstanding. Rock shrimp marinated in lime juice and chiles with slices of avocado atop, more lime on the side - this was one of the lightest and freshest ceviches M. de Joie has ever found.

A word here about presentation: Femme de Joie isn't usually very concerned about how a dish looks when it comes out of the kitchen. Back in the opulent 1980s, more than enough was not enough and minimalism was shunned: gilt on lacquer on cloisonné, while food was secondary to the dishes. Then came the 1990s when "stack it high" was tres chic - from stacked Caesar salad to stacked duck-legs-on-potatoes to stacked cake/berries/cake/sauce/berries, all on gigantic stark white plates. After all that, M. de Joie does appreciate a simple-but-arresting visual. El Mariachi's uses faux-Fiestaware, brightly-glazed dishes that give an exciting dimension and make the food really pop with color.



Taco salad is anything but Mexican - it's strictly an American idea, and is often piled together with a surplus of bland fatty dressings like sour cream and creamy guacamole that mask the crisp salad. Taco salad served up at El Mariachi's ($8.99) avoided the too-much-goop and was a nice balance of fresh salad, chips, shredded beef and a sprinkling of cheese atop a modest amount of sour cream. It still wasn't what anyone could claim to be diet food, but offered a lighter option to some of the heavy dishes on the menu. Skip the dressings and go easy on the chips, and this could almost be healthy.



At Femme de Joie's request, a tangy salsa verde was substituted on chicken enchiladas ($8.99) in place of the usual red sauce (which to her taste seems more appropriate on strongly-flavored fillings like beef or pork). The chicken enchilada plate (with rice and beans) might be thought of as an old reliable - maybe not the most exciting version you ever tried, but no-fail and dependable - comfort food. As noted above, El Mariachi's goes easy on the sour cream toppings, which lets you taste delicate ingredients and textures.



Chicken mole, $7.99. The menu did say the mole sauce was "sweetish" - a bit too sweet for M. de Joie's taste. But the smooth textured mole with hints of chocolate and chiles was too intriguing to ignore. Solution: a sprinkling of the chopped onion-cilantro relish from the salsa bar added a nice crunchy element and tamed the sweetness.

El Mariachi's isn't far from a chain Mexican restaurant but here you won't be asked to slam a tequila shooter and yell, "Yee-ha!" This isn't that kind of place. Service is quick, friendly, efficient, and accommodating. M. de Joie recommends El Mariachi's as a casual neighborhood restaurant to enjoy a low-key meal and not break the bank. Family-friendly.

El Mariachi's, 2914 Churn Creek Road, Redding, 96002. 530-224-1847, fax 530-221-8116. Open Monday-Thursday and Sunday, 10:00 AM-9:00 PM, Friday and Saturday, 10:00 AM to 10:00 PM. Breakfast, lunch and dinner. Beer and wine; wine cocktails. Vegetarian options. On-site parking. Cash, cards.