How She Fights:
There’s a tiny pea on the very tip of the last tine of her fork. The pea was probably frozen before it ever made it into the pan with pollo. The fork, with the pea impaled all the way through, has stopped mid-air.
She lowers her fork slowly, taps the wrinkled green orb onto the side of the plate, then sets the fork down perfectly parallel to the plate, with deliberate, yet gentle precision. She has not yet spoken a word.
She folds her hands neatly in her lap. She is staring straight ahead, at nothing. Or maybe she is going through that mental inventory that every girl keeps.
*silence*
She bows her head forward, as if she’s about to say grace that she had forgotten to say before. It’s not Grace, but it’s grace. On fire.
Finally, she whispers, “You know...” then stops. Deliberate. Calculated. The pause is...for emphasis.
*inhale* Her chest heaves.
*exhale* The weight of ten thousand agonies is pressing down upon her.
She’s staring into the plate of an a la carte crispy taco that is still perched up against the slightly raised edge of the fuschia-rimmed plate to keep crisp, fresh, shredded lettuce in place, exactly as it was when it came to the table. The beans are untouched, the layer of melted cheese now beginning to congeal into a thin, protective yellow and white coating. Without lifting her head, she barely squeaks it out again. “You know...”
She swallows back the tears that she has not yet conjured in her eyes. “You know, I'm really tired of this...” Here it comes. The tears. But don’t give it all away. Just one. Just...one.
A single tear drops into the guacamole that is mottled red with tomatoes and spices, now stained with the tiny, briny manifestation of her pain.
“You,” she stutters though she has never had problems with enunciation before in her life. "Y-y-y-you don’t even try to understand me or my situation...blah....blah....blah...Don’t you think it’s hard for me, too?!?!” Her mind works fast, the words coming out one right after the other, each sentence with increased velocity.
Her voice gradually, over the course of 45 seconds has gone from a barely audible, staccato whisper to a 10 thousand decibal hiss. Yes, she is hissing, and still, she has not looked up from the plate. The tears are flowing like the LA river after a light sprinkle. She has picked up her napkin to dab at her eyes, a dramatic, valiant attempt to “not cause a scene.” But oh yes, she is definitely causing a scene. Exactly the way her feminine subconscious wants to cause it.
The older couple on her right, who probably come here once a week, raises their eyebrows at each other. The trio of girls on the right are whispering, watching without watching.
She is good. She knows exactly what’s she’s doing.
When she fights, she fights to win.
And you better believe that she always wins. Always.
How He Fights:
He gulps down his Negro Modelo.
“Baby, you’re right. Waiter, can we get the check please?”
Such was, as embarrassing as it is to write, the scene at the bar of Casa Escobar. I can’t go into the details. I won’t even say whether the scene at the bar included me, because I certainly wouldn't want anyone to think that leaving a restaurant in tears is a common occurrence for me. Maybe it was just my observation as a third party, okay?! I can’t even really remember what the fight was about. All I know is that Casa Escobar is a great place for Mexican food.
And for Spanish-language tv melodrama.
I have written about Casa Excobar before. The restaurant is a reliable old standby for Mexican food. It’s cheap, as most Mexican food is, and the atmosphere is dark, but fun, and is a weird mix of old school "this-is-Mexican!" decor with new school clientele. With the exception of the grilled cheese sandwich (wtf?) I can safely say that I have tried just about everything on the menu.
My favorite things are the Sopa de Albondigas and the Spinach Enchilada. Soft, comforting meatballs in a salty broth may not know what to say, but just the fact that it tries makes me feel better. The Spinach Enchilada is fresh on the inside, sassy on the outside. *sob* It understands me.
Casa Escobar
2500 Wilshire Blvd (@ 25th Street)
Santa Monica, CA 90403
310.828.1315
** a year ago today, i decided to welcome The Freshmen **
tags :: food : and drink : mexican : restaurants : reviews : los angeles
joanh says
that looks so good! i miss enchiladas. *sigh... hope that if the scene included you that you got what you wanted.. haha
Anonymous says
Baby, you're right... Casa Escobar is a great place for Mexican food. ;) JP.
onetomato says
oh i am so like that when i win an argument with my bf. do you think all girls manipulate a fight like this? i always thought i was evil genius but deeply disturbed for doing it. glad to know you either practice this, or at the very least, can relate to it. :)
Anonymous says
hope the leftovers were good...;P
ps. have you been to bistro l'hermitage? I just went there this weekend. I had the scallops with risotto and saffron sauce - so so, kind of too rich for me, but my bf had the lambchops and they were SOO good! kind of pricey though but its nice if you sit outside.
Anonymous says
I'm not a big fan of Casa Escobar. I went there for the first time last night, even though I pretty much live next door. I was, um, underwhelmed, especially after the way Sarah's been pimping the place in her posts and the fact that I tend to agree with her taste usually. The guac is eh, the chicken meat is eh, the place is by no means cheap, and they don't even do free refills on the pop. For my money, give me Lula's on Main over Esco any day. The food is better, the margaritas are better, and it's worth the price difference.
Anonymous says
I'm not a big fan of Casa Escobar. I went there for the first time last night, even though I pretty much live next door. I was, um, underwhelmed, especially after the way Sarah's been pimping the place in her posts and the fact that I tend to agree with her taste usually. The guac is eh, the chicken meat is eh, the place is by no means cheap, and they don't even do free refills on the pop. For my money, give me Lula's on Main over Esco any day. The food is better, the margaritas are better, and it's worth the price difference.
sarah says
joanh: definitely got what i wanted ;)
jp: ha.
onetomato: well, i think they do, but it might not be a conscious manipulation, if that's possible. it probably is. female hearts and minds are so weird.
anonymous #1: yeah, "make-up" leftovers always taste soooo good. ;) and yes, i've been to bistro l'hermitage. very cute! i really liked the salade nicoise i had there.
anonymous #2: oh no! well, i guess we can't have the exact same taste, or else that would be way scary :) though i do love lula, as well. casa is just closer for an easy weeknight dinner.
Anonymous says
Personally, I agree with Anon#2. The food there is below average for the prices they charge. Mexican food is, of course, cheap overall, so relative to other types of food, Casa Escobar isn't expensive, but compared to other Mexican restaurants, the food didn't seem to be worth the money.
LACheesemonger says
Remind me not to take DS to Escobar then ;). Long ago as a child, I went to a place with the family a few times that I remember. I think it was called The Matador? or something like that. Located on Pico, perhaps east of Overland on the south side. Better than Escobar, a surviving relic of standard, unhealthy, artery plugging, but tasty, fast-food Mex-Amer
Was that your car ;) I saw there parked on the street nearby Escobar that evening? Women are weird like that you say? Uh, depends on which whacky women you are generalizing about...Bai Ling maybe? Plenty of deliciously 'normal' (but so not the status quo) women on this planet ;).
Unfortunately (what doesn't kill you will make you stronger...but also almost as bitter as Sarah ;) ) I "understand" (too many times to elaborate in print) Sarah likewise, all too well ;).
You know, there are those who were born with a silver spoon in their mouths (Paris), those who have a little silver spoon in their nose, and then Sarah, who as a child was born with cocktails instead of lemonade like the rest of us, lol...hehe. Yeah, the other children's parents back in the mid-West where Sarah grew up as a child, did not take to her early entrepreneurial efforts when she substituted the sidewalk lemonade stand standard for her own cocktail mixers ;). Sarah's reasoning "Wha, only one flavor is boring; I mix it up and give you choice, isn't that what this country is all about?".
I mean, it was all 'normal' to her. So at that early age, she did not understand what she was doing to be wrong ;)