It was not that interesting. Not much happened. A jogger, some cars, a helicopter. Whatever. But here you go!
A long time ago, well I guess about 12 years ago, I took some notes and some pictures of a potential HR review when I was down in Mexico City, in the (for some reason) feared suburb of Nezahualcóyotl. I found those notes this week as I was sorting thru my mess and deciphering if any of this stuff I’ve accumulated gave me JOY. Hmm, good question.Continue reading
Big Saver, my once favorite grocery store on Ave 26 and Figueroa is closing. I went back for one last time to stock up on Topo Chico and see if anything else might be of interest. They were already out of the mineral water, and the rest of the store was slim pickings. I bought some mole, achiote paste, and some canned chipotle chiles. All their piñatas had already been carelessly dumped into the prime territory where you would normally see all the dry chiles for the approaching tamal season. It was also the place I shared practical cooking tips with señoras also gathering their ingredients. Yeah, I’ll miss it but oh well, it’s over.
They were no longer my go-to store: once they started having issues with the refrigerated veggie section, the quality of their groceries suffered. What’s the point of 3 cilantros for a dollar if they are all wilted and gross? There is no point. The neighborhood has also changed and I would more often run into some new residents getting their booze needs and hopelessly perplexed about their Euro cuisine requirements that they couldn’t find. Recently the hand baskets disappeared. I asked the cashier and she said they had been stolen and wouldn’t be replaced because they would disappear again. She seemed indifferent to the line of people trying to juggle more than a few items in two hands. She must have known something cuz to her it was all over.
It was obvious the property owners were trying to drive all the businesses out. When the pharmacy left, nothing took it’s place.
When the crappy restaurant left, nothing replaced it either. I bet they are just waiting for the lease to expire on Yum Yum Donuts to turn the whole property into some generic gentrified shithole. Like the rest of this city that is becoming a very pretty toilet.
RIP my local Big Saver. RIP 2018, you were crap.
Another hot morning in Los Angeles, another excuse not to cook in my own kitchen. Hmm, I wouldn’t mind a plate of HR’s, maybe somewhere new even. Might I find a decent example in this era of recreational eating and themed foods? Let’s find out!
Hey, there’s a new place in Monrovia that looks promising. I’ve learned to tolerate that small town full of squares. I got used to their scrapbooking, antiques, and hobby stores awhile ago when I worked nearby, but lately they’ve been trying to update their image. Whatever, I’ll bite.
I started following the #huevosrancheros hashtag on Instagram just to see what that even means these days. It’s mostly what you would expect: Australians putting canned salsa on an egg-bean slop and thinking it’s some sort of fucking dish; lot’s of cheese; black beans stuffed into inappropriate places; sour cream squirters. Occasionally there’s something that looks good. I recently paid attention to one cuz the woman in the photo looked like someone from a documentary I saw somewhere, about drug recovery, jail, and adopting your siblings to take them away from parental dangers. I tried finding the documentary but failed. It might not have been her, but I thought it was. Then I looked at her HR dish and it seemed legit.
Jajaja! I guess some people are still reading this blog. Guess what happened right after I told you all not to take advantage of the glaring security hole? They gone done fixed it! Ah, but now there is nothing to signify that this is a COOL hip home for the new gentry as opposed to the same old shitty housing in the neighborhood glossed up with lots of cheap makeup. Maybe they’ll bring back the pallet fence? Cross your fingers!