It felt like midnight, but it might have actually been more like 7pm.  The place was deserted except for a couple of people.  It’s attached to our Westfield mall, which generally I try to avoid like the plague.  I got some burger, and a bunch of beer.  The fries were steak fries, and I like steak fries.  They had an incredible amount of seasoning on them, though that may have been my fault.  There is some sort of seasoning salt they have labeled and put out on the table.  We also got some sort of oddly shaped onion ring thing.  I buried just about everything I ate there in ranch.  Life was good.

Really my only gripe is that the fries are supposed to be endless, but they took forever to get the second batch out.  Then apparently they gave them to some other table.  Fuckers.

So there you have it.  Go to Red Robin hopped up on margaritas, and beer.  Get more beer, and forget that you’r sitting next to a man in a suit.  I’ve got a shirt with a turkey on it. Victory!

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Springing forth from the barron wastelands of California’s Mojave Desert are track homes, and strip malls.  A disgusting combination of homogeny, and who the fuck wants to live out here fills the mind.  There is a big ass outlet mall, I suppose that attracts all kinds.

Amid this crap-fest of desolation, lies a beacon of hope, a glimmer of salvation.  Taco Chon has a massive brazen sign reading ‘Restaurant’ that is both tacky, and endearing.  Taco Chon will be winning no beauty awards, but who gives a damn about that.  The inside is simple with a lunch counter, and  old ratty tables and chairs.

I got the Carne Asada, and it was massive, and delicious.  There was nothing to regret, and everything to love.  Coupled with a Negra Modelo all things were grand.    The steak was delicious, and it came with a side of beans and rice with guacamole and sour cream.  Oh god, how I love my guacamole and sour cream.  Pile that crap high on some flour tortillas, and I’ve got something special.  The beans were refried, but much more fresh than you see at normal restaurants.  They were kept whole, as opposed to being ground up into mushy nothingness.

Someone more adventurous ordered the Moiarra Frita which is basically a whole fried fish.  It looked good, but I didn’t know her very well so I figured picking at her plate would be uncivil.

All in all a good place that one should keep in mind if traveling from Los Angles to Las Vegas.  There isn’t much in the way of good eats in-between which makes this place  even better.

Big Rig parking at Taco Chon #1 Stoddard Wells Rd. Victorville, CA.

I am suprised to find that they have a website.

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Tito was born high in the hills of Mexico some 70 years ago.  His father was killed in or by the Mexican Army, Tito has never clarified this point.  His mother died when he was young, and he was forced to raise his 3 brothers, and 4 sisters.  Tito fed them tacos for sustenance using his mothers famous recipe she had taught him when he was only a tyke.  This is the story of a man that I believe to be true, and for all I know could be.

Tito’s Tacos has been a staple of the Culver City region long before my presence on this earth.  The modest establishment is always crowded, and if my math is correct his fortune is akin to that of Walmart.  Reviewing this is like reviewing the Mona Lisa.  Entrenched are the patrons whom would accuse me of blasphemy for anything less than unadulterated praise (That of course makes an erroneous assumption that anyone has read this article).

The taco shells are deep fried, and filled with tender juicy beef.  They are topped with lettuce, and have the option of cheese, but as my old decrepit Los Angeles native mother said to me, ‘purist don’t get it with cheese.’

After a night of friends, family, cops, and tawdry woman accompanied by vats of booze, these tacos preformed admirable, settled me down, and let me refocus on what reality looks like.  If you can call tacos simple and straightforward, that is what I’d call these.

While they are good, I do not see why it induces a zealous cult like atmosphere.  People come here in droves, and I find it astounding.  The salsa is decent, but very watery, and incredibly mild.  It is however quite fresh, as is everything there which is what I like in a bustling, quick and easy joint.

The food is inexpensive, and they’re a cash only establishment.  There were 2 ants in my drink, but that’s just part of doing business.  Go there for the atmosphere, the food, and a possible parking ticket.  May the memory of Tito’s mama live on, if the legend be true.

Location:  11222 Washington Pl, Culver City, CA 90230

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