72 Hours in the Del Taco Cinematic Universe
The Island Freaks spend 3 days in LA and Malibu and all they get is everything, Korean BBQ, and a new catchphrase.
If you haven’t already, go read part 1 here.
Wednesday, July 9th “I LOVE LA”
5:30am - We’re leaving Napa early to catch a flight to LAX. On the drive to SFO, we pass a minivan with a bumper sticker that spells out the word “LOVE” in AK-47s. This becomes our new catchphrase that we spray like scattershot down the freeway and onto unwitting passerby for the rest of our time in California. Love, love, love!
12:15pm - Our flight is delayed and we can’t be late since we have a 4pm event at Found Oyster. Nate is accosted by a woman sitting in the row ahead of him. She has held us up on the tarmac for 15 minutes so she can put her hair into pigtail braids in the bathroom. I think cruel, judgmental thoughts but then feel guilty when I remember a mantra that I once heard on a Rick Rubin podcast about embodying “loving kindness”. It’s not much longer into the 90 minute flight that she spills two cans of wine onto herself and Nate’s open work bag while insisting that he “listen to this shit”, thrusting her wired headphones into his ears to hear a Graham Nash song. My guilt begins to dissipate.
3:30pm - After navigating the Fyre Festival-esque experience of the rideshare pick-up at LAX, we check into the Airbnb for a quick turnaround. It’s cozy and complete with three bathrooms so we can each have one to ourselves. This baby, is luxury.
4pm-9pm - Happy Hour(s) at Found Oyster. Taking in the colorful art adorning the walls, the mile-high ceiling, the disco ball above the bar; it feels like seeing the Mona Lisa for the first time. It’s a place we’ve only seen in pictures and now get to experience in the flesh. It shimmers before us like a dreamscape.
In LA, Nate blossoms. Like a corpse flower, blooming for a few nights only. His shirt loses a few more buttons at the top. His posture improves a few inches (is he like, 6’5 now?) This is his city and he’s ready to thrive.
Some friends stop by to dine on the patio. A bottle of something sparkling, white, and French is poured. For dinner we have:
Island Creek littleneck clams with salsa verde and Ritz crackers (recipe coming soon!)
The Baywatch Platter - 16 oysters, 4 peel and eat prawns (that Nate thinks are the best he’s ever had), Sicilian crudo, sauces.
Cheesy artichoke brandade with Saltines, one scallop tostada, one wedge salad, and a plate of fries. Sadly, we forget to order the key lime pie.
We first started working with Found as a distributor for the Little Namskaket oysters that are grown by co-owner, Joe Laraja's family out on the Cape. We’re beyond grateful to work with such a talented team and restaurant that is as close to perfect as it gets. In our minds, we still haven’t left the patio.
Thursday, July 10th “Malibubu”
7am - We’ve been working like dogs for hours and we’re overdue for something bastardly to line our grumbling stomachs.
18 minutes later, a 20lb bag of Del Taco is delivered. Between the three of us we get: five bean and cheese burritos, one egg and cheese burrito, one bacon breakfast burrito, one veggie burrito, three beef and bean burritos, and two orders of hashbrowns. We also get three horchata cold brews from Tierra Mia because that seems like something the locals would do.
11am-1pm - We rideshare out to Malibu and spot the Pacific Ocean for the first time on the trip. Our oohs and ahs are interrupted by the scars of the recent wild fires that line the freeway; burnt cars, the gaping foundations of once-buildings, bone dry plants. It’s a humbling kaleidoscopic scene.
We’re on our way to meet Chris Tompkins, owner and founder of Broad Street Oyster Co. Chris is a wizard of nostalgia with an inspiring story to tell. He’s taken us along with him to every restaurant (6 total) he’s opened since 2017 when he first had a single, solitary bag of oysters delivered to his apartment. We’re honored to work with Broad Street and stoked to share our interview with Chris, coming soon to Substack!
2pm- After a nice long chit-chat, it was time for lunch. We weren’t that hungry so we just ordered:
Two warm buttered lobster rolls (the world’s best™), one chilled lobster roll, the burger with two things of fries (a perfect charbroiled marriage between BK and McD’s), a cup of clam chowder, the caesar salad, two frozen margaritas, a caviar hot dog, two portions of Old Bay mayo, and a bottle of natural wine to wash it down. Petite!
6pm - Gjelina for dinner with Michelle’s grandparents and LA natives, Susie and Alan. We insist ahead of time that no, we (Michelle) won’t be drinking tonight and no, we won’t be ordering everything on the menu. We will be demure, we will be mindful, and we will act like regular people for once because we’re not on the clock. We order:
Shishito peppers
Japanese sweet potato with yogurt sauce
Wood roasted cauliflower
The saffron spaghetti with bottarga and Calabrian chiles (yesssssss)
The fennel salami pizza
Braised pork belly with Oaxacan grits
Duck confit with braised cabbage and port wine
Oh, and the warm date cake and fruit plate with a cup of hot ginger tea for dessert because, CALIFORNIA PRODUCE IS SUPERIOR as we learned at The French Laundry Culinary Garden.
Glasses of Chenin and blanc de blanc are also ordered and drank… by all.
8:30pm - It feels like midnight and Marisol is jonesing for flavored Zyn. We limp down the street to the nearest bodega where we find stacks of what Nate likes to call the “Gatorade Zyn”, AKA Citrus. This is good news. Back home in MA, they don’t sell flavored pouches, so Marisol loads up for the trip home. Without checking the price, Marisol requests “all of them” and then regretfully leaves the store with a plastic bag filled with $300 worth of contraband. The Golden State indeed.
Friday, July 11th “Unwell”
6am: Spend the early hours working from the Airbnb. Like the morning after an MDMA high, the comedown from a week of culinary debauchery leaves us emotionally, mentally, and physically spent. On the couch wrapped in a blanket, one leftover Del Taco burrito in hand, I weepily ask my companions, “Guys, am I OK??”
The (what we think were) rats in the alley behind the house kept Nate up all night.
Marisol, the 28 year old with a constitution that should be studied by science, is doing great.
10:45am - We meet Jason Look, our incredibly talented graphic designer, for coffee at Kumquat (the ‘cloudy with a chance of peanuts’ was most excellent). We spend the next few hours walking around Highland Park, popping into cool stationary stores, bulk goods grocers, and beguiling shoppy shops. We each end the jaunt with a few souvenirs: Nate gets two shirts for his son, Marisol and Michelle leave with perfume, and Jason with an apple-shapped hand cream for his daughter.
1:30pm-3pm We meet back up with Chef Ari Kolender at Found’s sister restaurant, Queens Raw Bar, to record an interview and shoot the recipe for tinned clams in salsa verde (coming soon!) that we had on Wednesday. Chef Ari is the kind of person you’d happily follow to the end of the earth. Or at the very least, to Sicily. Our littleneck clams have never tasted better.
4pm-6:30pm - Hopping behind the beautiful u-shaped bar in the middle of the dining room to help shuck, Marisol takes no prisoners. She places herself in the shit, in the trenches at the center of it all, shucking and chatting with customers like she’s been there for years. Her confidence, without a shred of conceit, is inspiring to witness. We don’t eat much in anticipation for dinner later tonight, knowing that absolute carnage will take place and we have a reputation to uphold. But we down a few rounds of oysters and shots of beer (an elite combination) to keep our stomachs warm.
6:45pm - Capri Club for a drink and two orders of tuna stuffed peppers.
8pm - Quick drink and sightsee at the HMS Bounty on the bottom floor of Gaylord Apartment in KTown. The air smells of buffalo sauce and the drinks are served in plastic cups. It is perfect.
8:30pm - ORIGIN Korean BBQ, ready to get our meat facials on. We’re letting the professionals steer the boat for this meal. The array of banchan, bubbling kimchi soup, fried rice with roasted seaweed, and a whole host of assorted meats, steam and slosh around a glowing grill. Soju goes down smooth like a mouthful of grape flavored Hi-Chew while empty beer bottles accumulate at the other end of the table. We happily down it all.
Maybe we ate modestly… Maybe it was the company of new friends… Or maybe our bellies were just well-honed after professionally eating for the past 5 days, but we leave the dinner table light on our feet.
5am: Another early morning for another early flight (why do we do this to ourselves?) Our hair and clothing reek of BBQ smoke, a signal fire to everyone around us that we had ourselves a NIGHT! Marisol fills her French Laundry tumbler with room-temp Red Bull for the flight home. I board the plane with the last of the leftover Del Taco burritos in my carryon.
Love. Love, love, love.
Sounds like an incredible trip!
give an extra burrito and pack of zyn to your writer, because the narrative here is <chefs kiss>