B-side reprise. A trip to Los Baez.
It has been a full month since our visit to Los Angeles, and though we’ve tried to scratch that itch many times, we still haven’t been able to satisfy our craving for tacos. Good little tacos like the ones we picked up at Loteria Grill in the old part of the Farmer’s Market at 3rd and Fairfax in Hollywood. Savory, meaty bites tucked into handmade three-bite tortillas, just slightly bigger than the palm of your hand. We had heard of a new place, Los Baez, a local chain recently expanded from Salem. We read that people have actually made the drive there to get a fix. We heard talk of handmade tortillas, which got our eyebrows raised and interest piqued. Optimistically, we made our way down to E. Burnside to dig in.
Los Baez is huge. It has so much space, it doesn’t even seem to know what to do with it all. Most of the bi-level room is taken up by the dining room, wood tables and chairs seemingly borrowed from a shut-down Shakey’s and spread pretty far apart from one another to the point it felt awkward. In that open space, we craved a little corner to slip into, so we opted for the bar section, a little gated area on the main floor.
We sat down and literally cracked open the menus. Turns out, it was their opening night. I don’t know exactly how we keep doing this. It seems unfair to write up a restaurant based on their first night opened, but noneifbysea made the astute observation that since they are a chain that’s been in operation locally for decades, really they should have any serious kinks worked out and that the food should be the same.
Our very, very genial server was eager to get us drinks. Nursing a cold, I asked if their juices were fresh squeezed. Turns out, they’re not entirely up and running, but when they are yes, they will have fresh juices. Those fresh-squeezed juices will be a great compliment to their full bar- clearly positioned as a draw in this place.
A request for iced tea got the same response. I gave into a diet soda. Noneifbysea opted for a margarita, blended, with ice. Our eager, cheerful server asked if he wanted to get a 40 oz, enough for two. We don’t tend to drink cocktails that require special extra-long straws, and declined.
The menu is expansive. And traditional. A whole lot of what you’d expect to find at any refried beans and rice Mexican restaurant. Burritos, quesadillas, tacos, enchiladas. All the usual suspects were lined up in all the traditional ways, and the menu reads like a remedial guide to Mexican food, politely detailing carne asada, the contents of guacamole and offering the gringo’s guide to flan. Though we were feeling taco-ish, save for a fish taco or two, all of Los Baez tacos are fried. Instead, we opted for the fajitas, where we could see what they were working with in terms of both meat and tortillas. We went off-menu and took our waiter’s suggestion of the sweet carnitas.
It took a very, very long time to get our food. And the place wasn’t too crowded that night. In fact, it seemed most everyone there were regulars and family friends who drove up for opening night. And the more we watched, the more we learned. Someone else did order the 40 oz drink. And it was just for himself. And he was met with applause when it was brought to him. An impromptu drinking contest began at the bar. More applause. A K-Fed doppleganger furiously text-messeged. We saw a cocktail waitress with a red-bull apron doubling as a mini-skirt. More “whoooooo!ing.” We exchanged looks.
Though we ordered the plate for two, we got a sizzling platter for one, which was fine, since the more we ate, the less we wanted to. The tortillas were pretty good. A little thick, a little thin. Clearly these guys were hand-made. Sadly, these were the highlight. The carnitas themselves were pretty terrible. The sweetness that had been talked up was just too much. More than anything we tasted sugar, not juice or pork. It was sugar-meat wrapped up in a tortilla with sub-par fixins. The guacamole was bland, the rice was gummy, the beans boring and the lettuce sad and limp. Always on the side of the underdog, I asked NIBS, “But really, I don’t know. I want to give them another chance. Portland Mexican has not a lot going for it. There aren’t a lot of mid-level places. You’ve got either high-brow, like D.F. or a few out-of-the-way taco carts that are hard to find after dark. Who’s doing this, but better?”
“Applebee’s.” He said.
Sometimes, the guy has a point.
Our happy waiter came by and asked if we wanted dessert. NIBS’ was encouraged earlier by the listing of the sopapilla- a perfectly great concoction of fried dough, heavily dusted with cinnamon and laden with honey. After our carnitas disappointment, he was skeptical, but I put him up to at least ordering it. I was sure they wouldn’t actually have them ready. And they did. Kind of. Instead of a puffy dough, we got a fried tortilla, doused in honey and encircled by whipped cream and (wait for it) two marachino cherries. No cinnamon at all. Despite being cloying and soggy, there was something spicy in there! It wasn’t supposed to be there. It was a disaster.
As we waited (and waited, and waited) for the plates to be cleared, drinks to be refilled, we took in more of the place. A few more guys with baseball hats took a place at the bar, and the bartender encouraged the “wooo!ing” to continue by pouring more and more shots. We realized, this wasn’t the Mexican place we were looking for. This is a place that’s clearly drinks first, friendly service second, and food a distant third. A place where you might meet the guys to watch the game and get some drinks, and maybe order a bean and cheese burrito to soak it all up. Which, really, simply isn’t our kind of place.
Food: from the little of the menu we surveyed, not too good. Probably not compelling enough to bring us back.
Drinks: solid margarita, and the diet soda was excellent. Full bar, unmemorable wine and beer.
Atmosphere: "wooooooooo!"
Tally: NIBS is going down for this one. Adding insult to gastrointestinal injury.
Los Baez is huge. It has so much space, it doesn’t even seem to know what to do with it all. Most of the bi-level room is taken up by the dining room, wood tables and chairs seemingly borrowed from a shut-down Shakey’s and spread pretty far apart from one another to the point it felt awkward. In that open space, we craved a little corner to slip into, so we opted for the bar section, a little gated area on the main floor.
We sat down and literally cracked open the menus. Turns out, it was their opening night. I don’t know exactly how we keep doing this. It seems unfair to write up a restaurant based on their first night opened, but noneifbysea made the astute observation that since they are a chain that’s been in operation locally for decades, really they should have any serious kinks worked out and that the food should be the same.
Our very, very genial server was eager to get us drinks. Nursing a cold, I asked if their juices were fresh squeezed. Turns out, they’re not entirely up and running, but when they are yes, they will have fresh juices. Those fresh-squeezed juices will be a great compliment to their full bar- clearly positioned as a draw in this place.
A request for iced tea got the same response. I gave into a diet soda. Noneifbysea opted for a margarita, blended, with ice. Our eager, cheerful server asked if he wanted to get a 40 oz, enough for two. We don’t tend to drink cocktails that require special extra-long straws, and declined.
The menu is expansive. And traditional. A whole lot of what you’d expect to find at any refried beans and rice Mexican restaurant. Burritos, quesadillas, tacos, enchiladas. All the usual suspects were lined up in all the traditional ways, and the menu reads like a remedial guide to Mexican food, politely detailing carne asada, the contents of guacamole and offering the gringo’s guide to flan. Though we were feeling taco-ish, save for a fish taco or two, all of Los Baez tacos are fried. Instead, we opted for the fajitas, where we could see what they were working with in terms of both meat and tortillas. We went off-menu and took our waiter’s suggestion of the sweet carnitas.
It took a very, very long time to get our food. And the place wasn’t too crowded that night. In fact, it seemed most everyone there were regulars and family friends who drove up for opening night. And the more we watched, the more we learned. Someone else did order the 40 oz drink. And it was just for himself. And he was met with applause when it was brought to him. An impromptu drinking contest began at the bar. More applause. A K-Fed doppleganger furiously text-messeged. We saw a cocktail waitress with a red-bull apron doubling as a mini-skirt. More “whoooooo!ing.” We exchanged looks.
Though we ordered the plate for two, we got a sizzling platter for one, which was fine, since the more we ate, the less we wanted to. The tortillas were pretty good. A little thick, a little thin. Clearly these guys were hand-made. Sadly, these were the highlight. The carnitas themselves were pretty terrible. The sweetness that had been talked up was just too much. More than anything we tasted sugar, not juice or pork. It was sugar-meat wrapped up in a tortilla with sub-par fixins. The guacamole was bland, the rice was gummy, the beans boring and the lettuce sad and limp. Always on the side of the underdog, I asked NIBS, “But really, I don’t know. I want to give them another chance. Portland Mexican has not a lot going for it. There aren’t a lot of mid-level places. You’ve got either high-brow, like D.F. or a few out-of-the-way taco carts that are hard to find after dark. Who’s doing this, but better?”
“Applebee’s.” He said.
Sometimes, the guy has a point.
Our happy waiter came by and asked if we wanted dessert. NIBS’ was encouraged earlier by the listing of the sopapilla- a perfectly great concoction of fried dough, heavily dusted with cinnamon and laden with honey. After our carnitas disappointment, he was skeptical, but I put him up to at least ordering it. I was sure they wouldn’t actually have them ready. And they did. Kind of. Instead of a puffy dough, we got a fried tortilla, doused in honey and encircled by whipped cream and (wait for it) two marachino cherries. No cinnamon at all. Despite being cloying and soggy, there was something spicy in there! It wasn’t supposed to be there. It was a disaster.
As we waited (and waited, and waited) for the plates to be cleared, drinks to be refilled, we took in more of the place. A few more guys with baseball hats took a place at the bar, and the bartender encouraged the “wooo!ing” to continue by pouring more and more shots. We realized, this wasn’t the Mexican place we were looking for. This is a place that’s clearly drinks first, friendly service second, and food a distant third. A place where you might meet the guys to watch the game and get some drinks, and maybe order a bean and cheese burrito to soak it all up. Which, really, simply isn’t our kind of place.
Food: from the little of the menu we surveyed, not too good. Probably not compelling enough to bring us back.
Drinks: solid margarita, and the diet soda was excellent. Full bar, unmemorable wine and beer.
Atmosphere: "wooooooooo!"
Tally: NIBS is going down for this one. Adding insult to gastrointestinal injury.
posted by canolive at 5:02 PM
4 Comments:
Great review!
Che f-
Thank you for your comment. It's clear you have a lot of love and passion for your venture, and to be honest, it flatters our humble blog that you'd think our review might sway anyone one way or another. We really didn't think anyone was reading!
Here's how we work- we're not like real food reviewers. We go to a place once, and then write up our opinions. Most real food reviewers hit a place a number of times over a period of a few months. Fair, yes, but not how most people eat. We go, we eat, we write. But, like anyone who writes about food, we're not about to reveal ourselves when we walk in the door!
And to be fair, we absolutly noted that it was the first night, but there were things there that didn't appeal to us, that we couldn't imagine would change (the crowd you're courting, the "angloed-down" menu, etc.).
But fine, to be even fairer, we'll be back soon. And we'll let you know, probably from the comfort of our own blog, how it went.
I hope you did go back, and if you haven't yet, I recommend the chili rellanos. I've been all up and down the Pacific coast of North America, and these are still my favorites.
My husband and I are in Amsterdam for the winter, but I'm flying to Portland for the holidays, and a trip to Los Baez is one of the things I'm most looking forward to. My in-laws live near Salem, so if I'm lucky, I'll get to go to both the one in Portland and the one (original) in Salem.
What started out as a proud family business by the first generation has turned into a piggy bank for the spoiled rotten second generation of the Baez family. The "kids" who run the one on East Burnside are druggies, womanizers, and yes, there is even a serial rapist who was arrested in the kitchen after 9 years on the lam thanks to Los Baez Restaurant money. Maybe that's why they can't afford to pay back the $400,000 loan they took out from an in-law. They need the money to pay attorney fees and private investigators and to intimidate witnesses and victims alike. Alberto Zendejas Baez Jr. is a 5 time convicted(well, he plead guilty)rapist and pedophile. He is serving another light sentence, only 3 years, for carving up a little 14 yr. old girl after keeping her hostage for 3 days in a Baez family house. Do you think they don't know about their sons "problems"? Oh yes, and when released from prison in a year he will be back to work in the Los Baez kitchen, and of course back to raping teenage girls after getting them drunk in the bar at his family's restaurant.
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