The best meal I’ve ever had in Mexico was in Puerto Escondido, where I was sleeping on a hammock on the beach, and living the life of a generally dissolute gringo, with a taste for mezcal in bottles without labels.
As a young dude, all of my worldly possessions could fit in a battered backpack — I was living rough and eating cheap. But after a few months of beans and rice, rice and beans, with salsa and tortillas, and lime in my cerveza for the added nutrition, I was in a state of deep plate fatigue.
It wasn’t so bad for me that I would head to the first Mickey D’s I spied. But bad enough to recognize that I needed some serious protein. Which I found under a thatch hut on the beach, with a fire on the sand, and fish freshly pulled from the Pacific by the proprietor’s son.
His fish, grilled on the spot, at the moment, probably while still alive, cost just a few pesos. A cerveza, rice, beans, tortillas and salsa were a few pesos more. And though I didn’t know it at the time, I was in the presence of perfection — the Platonic Ideal in the sand in an Oaxacan hangout.
In the years since, I’ve often mentioned that feast, when confronted with white tablecloths, fussy service and high prices. And in an effort to find that sort of pleasure locally, I’ve eaten at a fair number of local Mexican seafood joints recently, but nothing that’s especially fancy. They weren’t the same — nothing could be. But for the price, and the joy of fish, I can’t complain…much.
With a name like El Oasis Fisheria (129 N. Citrus Ave., Covina, 626-364-7224, www.eloasisfisheria.com), you know that fish is at the top of the menu. Also the middle and the bottom. Aside from a green salad, there’s nothing to eat in this clean, well-lighted “family-owned and operated…everything is freshly made to order” place but seafood. The tacos are all shrimp and codfish. The tostadas get a little more complex, adding shrimp and fish ceviche, and (imitation) crab meat. (A culinary curiosity that I, for one, do not love.)
There are five shrimp plates and six fish plates — moving from cod into mojarra, salmon and red snapper. There are four fish and/or shrimp baskets for kids served with french fries, which I guess qualify as another fishless food. There are seafood cocktails and seafood salads. But the dish that intrigued me the most was a fish and shrimp combo platter of three ceviches called “Oasis Tribilin.”
You get a cruet of shrimp ceviche, another of fish ceviche, and a third of (imitation) crab meat ceviche. It’s a good deal for $10.99 — though I do wish the ceviche was chunkier. But a smaller chop is the style at El Oasis. And happy I was to inhale it all. Yes, even the (imitation) crab. With lime juice, chopped onions and peppers, it was about as close to (real) crab as might be expected.
Head for any of the several branches of Baja Cali Fish & Tacos (2001 W. Valley Blvd., Alhambra, 626-872-0479; 31 E. Main St., Alhambra, 626-940-5549; 1535 E. Amar Road, West Covina, 626-977-1133; 2487 E. Washington Blvd., Pasadena, 626-714-7001; www.bajacalifishandtacos.com), and you’ll find a lot of fish dishes, served fast and costing next to nothing.
The critter of choice in their fish taco is swai, also known as basa, but best known as Southeast Asian catfish, a native of the Mekong and Chao Praya basins — which is probably more than you need to know. It’s a mildly flavored white fish, a little oily, served either battered and fried, or grilled, topped with shredded cabbage, pico de gallo, house crema and red salsa on a corn tortilla.
But then, Baja Cali is a chain of many choices. Rather than fish, you can get shrimp (fried or grilled again) — or fish and shrimp in the Baja Cali Signature Taco. They like their combos here.
In the Mar y Tierra Taco, you get shrimp and carne asada. There’s a vegetarian taco, of course — and a protein-style taco, wrapped in lettuce, which, as is true of protein style burgers, gets soggy. I’ll stick with those tortillas. And if you really want a flavor kick, try the very tasty al pastor. Or on the other side of the equation, the potato tacos — which are a lot better than expected. Even if they are starch and starch with starch.
And if it’s ceviche you crave, head for the tostadas — fish and shrimp, separately or together. There’s a big fish soup, several in fact. And if I order the fried mojarra, I can pretend I’m back in Puerto Escondido. Though these very urban Mexican fish shops don’t come with a beach. For me, the beach is essential to the flavor. So are the beers. And, of course, the shots of mezcal never hurt. (Well, actually, they do the morning after.) Still, Puerto Escondido is far. And Baja Cali is close — and growing fast.
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