It’s a late Thursday night, and I’m crawling through traffic on my way back from a gig in Hollywood, inching toward Whittier. The freeway is a parking lot and I can’t take it anymore. I veer off the 210 and decide to cut through Altadena.
Altadena’s had a hell of a year. The Eaton Canyon fire—likely sparked by faulty Edison cables—scorched large parts of the community. I’ve been spending time here recently, especially at the restaurants that managed to survive. Spots like Fair Oaks Burger, Prime Pizza, MIYA, and a few others—places that feed a neighborhood still recovering and trying to rebuild.
As I cruise down one of the town’s main arteries, I see it. At first, it looks like a mirage. Then, like an oasis. Damn my good luck, I just found what may be the last true street taco stand in Altadena.
Not a restaurant. Not a food truck. A real puesto ambulante. The kind you almost never see around here anymore. Not since the fires.
A man stands behind a plancha, cleaver in hand. Next to him is a woman rolling out masa into thick, oblong discs. The trompo glows like a beacon in the dark, spinning with caramelized slivers of al pastor, their edges crisp and glistening. Handmade tortillas puff on the comal, the smell of seared pork and fresh masa thick in the air. It’s one of the most beautiful sights in Southern California.
And the food? It doesn’t disappoint.