We're pathologically social. We're professional leisurists. We're burrito lovers, bar flies, art whores and music nerds. We dish the good dirt, and we'll risk a parking ticket for a cheap sample sale. Sometimes, we blog drunk.
Little heaven
A few weeks ago, little Lisa Lee needed help with a project for her 9th grade Spanish class. She and her friends needed to find authentic Mexican food on Olvera Street. Easy. IMHO, the only place worthy eating is Cielito Lindo.
It goes without saying that Cielito Lindo sells the best taquitos in LA. I've been going there my whole life and so has, I discovered after a quick google search, just about every other Mexican who grew up in LA. I've eaten there when it's raining buckets, I've eaten there when my make-up is melting off my face, I'd even be willing to bet I was there in utero.
No surprise that I got a craving. So I endured more than 45 minutes of traffic to spend less than 30 minutes at my favorite place on the corner. It was hot, I was sticky and I almost threw down with a nine-year old over a corner table, but what's new? As I dug into my taquitos, avocado sauce running down my fingers, I suddenly remembered little Lisa Lee and her five friends. Lisa proudly showed me pictures of her excursion and I almost fell over laughing. There they were, apprehensive looks on their faces, eating the best taquitos in LA. With forks.
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