Dos Banditos Restaurant Reviews: Explore Your Gringo Dreams at La Tapatia - By N.L. Belardes and Willieboy

La Tapatia hidden away in a Bakersfield alley...

Willieboy Bandito:

As I sit here trying to keep my eyes open after another stomach stuffing Mexican meal, I find myself in a reflective mood. Today’s meal satisfied all of my Mexican food cravings, but it didn’t knock my socks off. On the other hand the chips and salsa were really good. We mowed them down until there were only the little tiny broken chips left. If you look closely- they look like miniature tortilla chips for… ants… well, maybe not that small, but surely too small for my sausage-like fingers to hold onto and dip. I’m never sure what to do in that situation. You have ample salsa left, but no secure means of getting it to your head. The chip is the delivery system. You know you’ve been there. Everyone staring at the half-filled bowl of crushed chips like chimps in Africa, trying to figure out how to get the ants out of the anthill. I’ve tried grabbing a wad of mini chips, like a crane at the dump, and dipping them altogether. But on the trip from the bowl to my mouth, it’s inevitable that there will be chip fragments dropping to the table, on my shirt, not to mention the unstable salsa dripping all over the place. No, just like the chimps… we need a tool. And a stick doesn’t help at all… thanks stupid chimps.






Willieboy: chips and salsa maestro

O.K., back to my reflective mood. I think sex and Mexican food are a lot alike. There, I said it. Maybe because it’s two of the things I think about a lot, so it is inevitable that I would start drawing comparisons. I enjoy both anytime of the day, any day of the week, even two days in a row! I look forward to the event with much anticipation, but immediately afterwards I’m thinking, “I have to get stuff done! But I have no energy to do it!” On the other hand I don’t feel gassy after sex… but I do feel like a nap. I’m not particular as to what it looks like either (Mexican food or sex partners). In the case of sex, morning bed head and crusty eyes are a turn on. In the case of today’s meal, each plate resembled vomit or possibly diarrhea, however I still couldn’t wait to dig in. When the waitress set the plates down, you couldn’t have stopped this consummation with a blast of cold water from a garden hose. And just like I said previously, it wasn’t the greatest food, but it wasn’t bad either. I’d do it again, but maybe try a different position… ah…er… selection.


Carne Guisada for the La Tapatia lovers

Speaking of selections, I had something called Carne Guisada. It sounded exotic, the description mentioned “tender chunks of beef simmered in it’s own juices along with onions and jalapeños." Sound familiar? That’s right, stew… albeit Mexican stew. Whatever. Throw anything in a flour tortilla, combine it with some rice and beans, and you have a hell of a meal. This is not true for sex. Warm flour tortillas with melted butter in them don’t really come in handy… or do they? I’ll get back to you on that.



La Tapatia
617 Chico Street

Chips and Salsa: **1/2
Food: **1/2
Service: ****
Atmosphere: ***

N.L. Bandito:

“History is a sea of books. Learn to swim,” my old history professor would say. I dare say, Mexican restaurants in Bakersfield are the same way. They’re everywhere and once you find them how do you tread water? And some are just far more hidden than others. Take La Tapatia. It’s one of the oldest Mexican food restaurants in Bakersfield. You’ve got to drive down a few inner city streets and alleys just to get to it. One old sign indicates it’s in an alley. If you’re not careful, you’ll walk up to the faded façade of a beauty salon and pound on the door demanding rice and beans. It’s kind of like exploring history itself: wild goose chases over books on 17th century sea exploration of the great windy isles of Newfoundland.

You know you love it.


Opened the year I was born: ancient!

Try reading Richard Hakluyt. Then try pronouncing his name! It’s not much different than seeing Willieboy and chingpea trying to pronounce Spanish words off menus. “Relleno” was particularly difficult for chingpea’s Filipina-Chinese “R”-rolling tongue. She’s more used to her own refinement of English and Tagalog. Ask her how to say the word, “Through.” Her eyes cross.





Of course we parked on Chico Street. That’s about as far from La Tapatia as you could get and still see one of the alley signs. The walk through old town Kern was fascinating, poverty-stricken, not too far cry from my own Oleander Street hovel. There was even an old Britney Spears urchin peddling her open skirt wares. Speaking of hovels, I have my own slum king I have to worry about who doesn’t fix doorknobs, although he does take my trash to the curb on Wednesdays. Every once in a while I tip him a dollar on my rent for such niceties.

Did I mention Willieboy is my landlord?


Willieboy: confident, cheap, and with a killer shirt

The fact that he gives me no rent discounts for his salsa critique bravado appearing on my blog is beside the point. He’s a self-declared cheapskate and proud to admit it. I know no other man who puts a book on eBay just as soon as he’s finished with it (maybe even before he’s done). Alas, I am far too sidetracked. But now you know why Willieboy used a coupon last week when he had to pay for lunch.

I ate at La Tapatia once in the 1990s. I loved it the first time, and never remembered how to return to its hidden location—thank goodness for Google maps.

The restaurant itself has a retro aire. Big booths, red-stained booth separators, and wood paneling just like my Mexican father once pasted onto walls of our old South Bakersfield home for that cabin fever feel.


La Tapatia is as retro as The Jetsons

I ordered Chile Verde Tomales: beef tomales smothered in verde sauce and pork. This was an $8 meal fit for a linebacker, complete with decent rice and beans (not the best, but decent). I ate about half of my meal. There was just a hill of food. The pork was a little dry, as were the tomales. But the sauce made the meal into a tasty treat.



That and the waitress was hilarious. She cracked jokes, didn’t seem to know Spanish very well (Either that or Willieboy was just having a bad day saying “Relleno”) and made our adventure into something much more than about food: exploring and finding a hidden restaurant, wandering past the Britney Spears ghost of Christmas future, and great conversation while battling for the last whole chips, and chingpea’s classic line when about to much on a relleno, “That looks like a...”



Chips and Salsa: **1/2
Food: **
Service: ***1/2
Atmosphere: ***


Read past Dos Banditos Restaurant Review articles:

Tortilla heaven at Senor Pepes
Mucha Lucha Salsa Libres at La Colonia
Cemitas Poblanas stirs the stomach acids
Hunter's paradise buffet at El Cazador
Authenticity at the Arizona Cafe
La Costa Earwig

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Michael "Willieboy" Willis is a grizzled 46 year old graphic artist. His studio, coincidentally called "Willis Design Studios", has been operating in Bakersfield for the last 26 years. His 15 minutes of fame came in 1997 when he co-authored a best selling book about webpage design titled "Web Pages That Suck". The rest remains a mystery. His personal page is www.willieboy.com.

N.L. Belardes is a novelist and blogger out of Bakersfield, California. He’s on myspace.com/nlbelardes and www.nlbelardes.com.

This entry was posted by N.L. Belardes, on Thursday, December 14, 2006. You can leave your response.