Day 11: La Raza Pizza Buffet

I awoke on the first official day of summer from a much-needed but admittedly indulgent four-hour nap at 9:30 pm, fully aware that my proclivity for siesta had jeopardized the integrity of Goles y Frijoles. Could I find a worthy Latin American food establishment open at this time on Monday night? Or, would I have to give in to unadventurous practicality and eat at Cabo Fish Taco? Or would I skip tonight and pay penance by doubling up tomorrow? I decided to at least make the effort and rode out to a particularly fecund (for Mexican food spots) to area of Central Ave. At the corner of Kilborne, my persistence appeared to pay off in the neon juxtaposition of a sign that read “La Raza Pizza Buffet”.

Now, over the course of the past week and change, I have come to accept that my presence in certain establishments will garner some double takes by clientele or quizzical looks shot between restaurant employees. I am often the only non-Latino when dining, a fact that most of the time merely goes to support some vague notion of “authenticity” that I’m chasing. That being noted, I was out of my element tonight.

Upon entering the one-room establishment set up with mismatched buffets serving both pizza and more traditional food and a blaring Telemundo soap, one of the half-dozen possible proprietors approached me and explained that there was no menu before offering that I take some buffet to go. As odd a suggestion as this was, I accepted. However, my new friend did not make a move to provide a styrofoam box or any other approved food conveyance technology, so, in an effort to stay moving and appear casual, I just started pile my plate with yellow rice and ladled onto it what I thought was a stew of sorts but was actually soup. Then, just to prove my control of the situation to anyone who was watching me and correctly deducing that I had both no business eating there and no idea what I was doing, I added a scoop of some chicken and potato dish to my plate of submerged rice. The latter was pretty tasty, though the soup had a discernible seafood taste, despite being composed of red broth, chunks of fat (the dreaded chicharron?), and potatoes. At the salad bar, I eschewed browning iceberg lettuce for a spicy mix of finely-chopped peppers, cabbage, and other fresh veggies. It could have been a garnish along the lines of pico de gallo, I suppose.

To my semi-surprise and great relief, I found that La Raza accepts credit card, but not before imagining explaining my lack of cash and leaving some form of collateral to adventure out into the neighborhood to locate an ATM. Thankfully, it did not come to that. Interestingly, the receipt reads that I paid $8.75 to Joyeria El Tesoro 2 on South Blvd. Go figure.

The Score: Try the pizza?