El Jalapeno – 3.0/5 Jarritos

What’s that line from the theme song to Cheers? “Where everybody knows your name… And they’re always glad you came.”



Well, going to El Jalapeno is pretty much the exact opposite of that.


It was a late night and I had already eaten dinner and watched the Lakers blow another game they should’ve stolen in Boston. [It also doesn’t help that I’m writing this the day after the Lakers blew their “historic” lead in Game 4. Who the hell uses the word “historic” to describe a lead in basketball, or any sport for that matter? The word should be “suicidal,” because that’s what the players and fans will feel like if they ever blow that kind of lead.] I was on my way to check out Casa Diaz when I drove by El Jalapeno on Hollywood Blvd. The reaction time between my retinas seeing the al pastor spit and my brain processing the information must’ve been instantaneous, since before I knew what was happening, I had already stopped my car and was looking for nearby parking. I guess Casa Diaz will have to wait. [Actually, Yelp lists Casa Diaz as closed. Can someone confirm this?]

Want to know how to win my taco heart? Make a taco stuffed with delicious al pastor cut from a rotating spit.



Want to know how to win my other heart? Put guacamole on the taco.

El Jalapeno is located on the northeast corner of Beverly and Normandie. It’s not the greatest of neighborhoods to begin with. At night, I’m like a fish out of water. You know what that means? Time for me to put my Tough Guy hat on!

[That day, Caucasians only made up 99.5% of Wrigley Field.]


I’d like to think that when I put my Tough Guy hat on and walk around like a 5’11” version of Tony Soprano, people will generally tend not to mess with me. Thankfully, the friendly frequenters of El Jalapeno didn’t change my thinking. Maybe they saw through my tough guy ruse and knew that I was just some guy who watched the Lakers blow a ridiculous lead while eating an overpriced sushi appetizer from Roy’s. Or maybe it was because despite wearing jeans, I didn’t have any shoes to change into after work – thus, I was still wearing my black penny loafers. With my Tough Guy hat.


Although I’ve never driven by El Jalapeno in the daytime, I’m guessing the brick shack is where they make and serve their food. However, (again, I’m also guessing) I think at nights they bring out the portable taco stand and actually cook the tacos on the sidewalk.

In addition to having an al pastor spit and flat heated surface to grill the asada (and other meats) and tortillas, they have this dome-like contraption to help with their cooking. Imagine a small dome in the center of this portable stand, and it’s surrounded by a moat of oil. Not joking – it’s a moat. Of oil.

And inside this moat of oil, they’ve got various meats that are cooking/staying warm. On top of the dome, they’re heating up the tortillas.

As I’m standing there waiting for one of the two cooks to acknowledge my presence, my eyes cannot break away from this moat of oil. Imagine that crackling sound when something is deep frying. Imagine that sound when some of that amber oil (amber because of all the meat that has been cooking in it for probably 3 hours already) hits the dome and causes some of the tortillas to sizzle. Imagine watching one of the cooks pick up a slab of meat (lengua, I think), cut it up with a cleaver, and then skillfully place it on a small corn tortilla and throw (literally) some onions and cilantro on it.

Now imagine doing your very best to suppress the desire to vomit all over the place.

I was at a crossroads, good readers. On the one hand, even though I just had an overpriced sushi appetizer at Roy’s, there was no denying that I had room for two al pastor tacos – from the rotating spit, nonetheless. On the other hand, I wanted to puke.


Watching all that meat sit in the moat of oil was one of the most disturbing taco-related images I’ve encountered thus far.

As for my two al pastor tacos? They were predictably fantastic.


The oil in/on the tortillas was a little on the heavy side, but I’d rather have my tortillas be oily than dry. The salsa verde was decent, providing an excellent balance of “kick” and flavor. But the real star was the al pastor. Soft, succulent, and filled with taste, the al pastor was (so far) second only to La Taquiza. Some might say it’s the psychological factor of physically seeing that rotating al pastor spit, but I can confidently say that El Jalapeno’s al pastor is a great big step above the average.


At a dollar a piece, El Jalapeno’s al pastor tacos are a steal.

At this point, I think my Tough Guy hat was wearing off and people were starting to notice either (1) my black penny loafers [shiny!], or (2) me taking pictures with my cell phone, despite my best efforts to remain incognito.

You know it’s not a great neighborhood when someone is selling CDs right in front of the taco stand. We’re talking CDs that are lying on the floor on top of some rectangular carpet, comprised of artists and genres that I’ve never heard of before.



You also know it’s not a great neighborhood when someone who is dressed up in a shiny black bowling shirt and is wearing a black fedora to cover up a ponytail appears to be a customer, but is actually just hanging around the area because El Jalapeno has drawn a crowd of about 14 by now. In fact, ponytail guy catches me taking pictures with my cell phone and mutters “Yo, this guy’s taking pictures!”


Time to go!

I honestly thought someone was following me to my car, which was parked on Normandie, about ten seconds from El Jalapeno. Well, I thought, you can’t go your entire life without getting into a fight. I turned my Tough Guy hat backwards and stretched out my knuckles.


Fortunately, it was just some other guy getting to his car in the same parking lot. I think he was scared of the exact same thing.



The al pastor was fantastic, but the vomit factor brought down El Jalapeno’s score by at least one Jarritos. Too bad.

Much love till my next post.

El Jalapeno
Address: 4165 Beverly BlvdLos Angeles, CA 90004
Google Maps: Link
Tacos: $1.00 each