Bob McPhail 12:30 p.m., April 26
Lunging into a couple tacos in Popotla.
No power and a dirt road mean fish doesn't get any fresher.
“That is lamb-shank tshreeb, like stew. It is very Iraqi. Comfort food.”
Sunday night. East Main. El Cajon. Warm, balmy, a relief from another El Cajon day. Families, older men (Chaldean, mostly) sit around in clumps on the boulevard’s benches and in Prescott Promenade Park, talking, playing ...
OB — packed, noisy, cheap, cool.
I don’t know how O.B. does it. Places like the Joint — packed, noisy, cheap, cool. And now this joint, packed, noisy, cheap, cool. I guess we can only blame O.B. Tonight, Saturday, 9:30, I’m ...
Brussels with benefits.
Not your grandma’s sprouts. Get 'em while they're hot.
Surprise, surprise — Ed opts for the poor-man’s lobster
I’ve never been Number One at anything. Not till now. But so happened I was loping down Orange Avenue, past where another eatery, Rhinoceros, had always been, — just at the moment the new “Islander” ...
Ed finds many forms of sustenance among Somali vendors.
Oh, man. What’s up? When a place you’ve been going to every now and then for years turns up in world headlines, you sit up with a jerk. When the news hit that a San ...
Blown away by spunk and gusto.
"I built our own oven. Just like they have had in Beirut since forever."
Ed picks up something round, brown, and with a pepperoni crown.
She looks up. “Anything else? Honestly, whatever you want.”
Ed floats in to Johnny’s Deli; his torta isn’t so lucky.
Just as well you get a plastic knife and fork. It is a mess — a hot mess at that.
Good enough, but Ed may not remember the Alamo.
Scoping the new-old and admiring Wisconsinite appetites at Taco Tuesday.
Ed slurps pork — tender like it’s been through a blender.
Wow. Pointed prow of a big ol’ Navy cruiser knifes right past. In the waters between us and the island of Coronado. It kinda fills the sky. Heading under the bridge and home port. The ...