Readers of this space, all three of us, will note that I tend to scour my work environs pretty well for all sorts to eat, since by nature I'm easily bored and restive. A couple of things have been hitting it right on the nose recently, and the first of course is the newest and hottest place on the megaexpensive restaurant row of the Financial district, Perbacco.
Suffice it to say that my wife, on unpaid book leave, is on Perbacco watch, and in her own nice way has conveyed that it's a sometimes treat, like foie gras or mofongo. I understand and agree; adding appetizers to your assortment of drinks means the tab's going to hit three digits in short order, so it's hard to eat while enjoying hard-to-find Carpano Antica and other alcohols in a swank but impressively laid-back scene. The booths there at the bar are up for the taking, and even though it's sometimes just my art director and myself, we're never asked to make room or even leave when we're just gabbing.
I love Perbacco, though I've never had an formal meal there. It will become one of those things I'll eventually get around to one of these years.
Years ago, dear readers, when the Industry Standard was produced out of its Pacific Street office, we could have used a taco truck. I've been prowling around the area pretty frequently since, but it seems sometime in the last year or so, a couple of guys pulled into the parking lot at Sansome and Pacific and have never left.
This is the real L.A. thing, with the couple of tables and chairs under the awning, at L.A. prices -- at $1.50 for your old-school taco (meat, beans, hot sauce). They even throw in free jalapeños. I totally stumbled into it on the way to El Zorro on Columbus and am a bit beside myself. I'll have a further review forthwith.
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