We ended up at El Gato Gordo, about one mile closer to our beloved home, Claremont.
When we walked into the place, we were ecstatic because we thought we might actually have found a restaurant we honestly did not like. In fact, we were fully prepared to hate it. We were overcome by a potentially bowel-perturbing repulsion to the yuppitude that pervaded the decor, in much the same manner as pretentious crap pervades this sentence.
Anyway, we were seated at a semi-quasi-pseudo-industrial booth, replete with corrugated sheet metal dividers and a naked light bulb. The light was so intense, you could feel the rays streaming off the bare filament, through the unfrosted glass and steel cage, piercing our respective retinae. Pretty groovy.
Needless to say, this provided a rather pleasantly unpleasant alternative to the Oh-So-Cal, Oh-So-Lo-Cal drivel that hung about like the stench of a tainted brie.
And then there were the videos. What kind of restaurant has insipid pop videos piping through the air at its patrons, anyway? This kind, apparently. Presumably, they were going for that same hippy-hoppy sorta hip-hop young mall-maggot effect that we all love when we go to those penultimately trendy clothing stores. Yeah. Then again, as we left, we did catch a glimpse of one very hip song. Deee-groovy.
At many times during the meal, we exchanged commentary on the brilliant new film by Sam Raimi. We suspect that "Army of Darkness" will become the AcademyÕs baby next year. It's about time someone recognized Bruce Campbell for his thespian genius. Groovy.
Like we said, we were hungry, and we shamelessly devoured three bowls of chips before our orders arrived. As we sometimes say in this gig, the salsa flowed. And, to be honest, it flowed well, thanks to our ever attentive chip and salsa boy. He gets paid more than we do, and by god he deserves it.
We decided that nearly everything they served us was a bit on the watered-down side. Naturally, the glaring exception to this observation was the water itself. We had to explicitly request refills. As you probably don't know, Beggar's Banquet has officially adopted the water refill policy as our sole guide to the finer diner. Apparently, the water person was not nearly as attentive as the aforementioned chips and salsa boy. Alas.
You know what it's like when you eat three bowls of chips and salsa, followed by a chicken chimichanga (Andy, $7.95) and a chicken burrito (Ryan, $5.95) and only have one glass of water. Baby, you get real thirsty.
El Gato Gordo is located at, among other places, (some number) Foothill Blvd., Upland. Gimme some salsa, baby.