Dish Spotlight: Spicy Sesame Ramen at Tajima

A rainy day in a bowl.

Has it really been four months since I've been to a Tajima? It's a fixture of San Diego's landscape now, with so many locations that you'd practically think they were Starbucks.

The North Park location was bustling even on a Thursday afternoon. It started to pour shortly after I got in, as if the weather were anticipating my meal. Shortly after being seated, I got what I always get: the spicy sesame tonkotsu ramen with added pork chashu.

This is not a bowl designed for everyday eating. The broth is so creamy and rich, it almost makes you feel guilty. It's piled with so many toppings you have to work to break through to the noodles. It's packed with so much sodium you'll have to swear off salt for a week.

And still, it's all so worth it.

Every ingredient is beautifully calibrated. Pork bones are boiled for twelve straight hours and combined with sesame and chile to create a broth that's spicy, unctuous and satisfying. The noodles are delicate but still retain a robust springiness. The half egg is always cooked medium—never too runny or too solid. The garlic chips are crunchy but never burnt-tasting, as they often are elsewhere. Now and then the occasional note of toasted sesame shines through. The ground pork is savory, heavy on salt but not overwhelmingly. There are just enough veggies to trick your brain into thinking there's some nutritional value here: Buttery bok choy, ocean-infused nori, crisp green onion, lightly bitter sprouts.

And then there's the chashu. Theoretically, it's an optional add-on, but in practice it's an absolute requirement. Pork belly is the star of many a ramen bowl, but this incarnation is just unreal. It offers no resistance as you bite in. Time stops. The world falls away. And you're left with only the dark, deep, rich, meaty, golden caramelized flavor.

When you combine all these ingredients, you have the perfect meal to brood over on a cold, dark day. You can listen to the rain patter on the roof as you let the warmth flow through your body, banishing the chill from your toes. Just sit, relax, and eat your fill. This is a big bowl, so there's no shame in getting a to-go container—chances are, you'll be keen to savor every drop.

Score: 9 out of 10 (Fantastic)

Review: La Catrina

It's kind of scary how often restaurants close—even great ones. North Park's La Catrina recently opened in what was once the lively and inventive casual spot Tostadas... which was previously the incredible mad science dessert lab Swoon. When I spotted a new and interesting Mexican place opening, I knew I had to come out in a show of support.

The were seated at a corner table in the brightly colored, Catrina-themed space. The two waitresses were highly attentive—probably because we were the only ones in the whole joint. I got a traditional lime margarita, which was eye-poppingly intense, not just from the alcohol but also the sugar and tartness. That plus the salt and Tajin spice on the rim created a broad spectrum of flavor which, while delicious, could actually have benefitted from some watering down. Amy enjoyed her Mexican Mule, which had plenty of carbonation and a nice light infusion of ginger.

We ordered four small plates to share, all of which were wonderful. I want to pause for a minute, though, to talk about salt, because this is a place that knows how to use it. Salt enhances other flavors, and in my experience the more of it you add, the better—until suddenly it crosses a threshold and overpowers everything else. I asked Amy after the meal whether anything had seemed especially salty. She said it hadn't—and that's exactly as it should be. All four dishes had tons of salt, but you won't notice unless you're looking for it, because La Catrina sneaks it in to deepen and amplify their flavors without ever crossing the line.

We started off with a duo of meat-heavy plates and a pile of tortillas. The carnitas and octopus was an unusual combo that worked. Both were tender in their own ways, the carnitas savory with crunchy edges and the octopus smoky and satisfying. It was topped with hearty mushrooms, cheese and pickled onion which made for a great stick-to-your-bones taco. The plates also came with two lovely salsas, a creamy jalapeño salsa and a hot and garlicky chile de árbol that thankfully lacked the bitter burnt taste árbol salsas often have.

The other plate, the gringa, was full of crisp bits of al pastor complete with big sweet chunks of pineapple. The cheese and silky guacamole rounded out a delicious if heavy first round of food (which probably should have come after the seafood dishes).

The tostada de atún azul was piled high atop a thick, sturdy wonton-style tortilla shell. The crunch from the wonton and fried veggies played nicely off the tenderness of the fresh bluefin tuna. The whole stack was infused with citrus, herbs and a tangy red wine vinaigrette, with the ever-present undertone of salt completing the profile.

Best of all may have been the salmon tiradito, consisting of delicate salmon sashimi tossed in soy and and citrus and topped with fried onion. It was mouthwatering and savory, the cucumber and avocado serving as lighter counterpoints to the crispy onion.

I worry about La Catrina, as I did its predecessors. Granted, Wednesdays aren't typically busy nights for dining, but it's still alarming that not a single other patron came in during our entire meal. With only a few small missteps and a lot to rave about, I'll certainly be stopping by after work for a Taco Tuesday or their 3-to-6 happy hour. I may not be able to keep places like this afloat on my own, but at least I can do my part.

Score: 9 out of 10 (Fantastic)

Quick Bite: Atypical Waffle Co.

"Why yes, as a matter of fact those are vintage stadium seats.
Thanks for noticing. Have we mentioned we're atypical?"

Atypical Waffle Co. is an odd place. Partly hidden behind a laundromat, it's easy to miss unless you know where to look. But then, as you walk through the large opened gate (there's no real door), you feel like you've stepped into something that's part patio, part commune. The employees are friendly and laid-back almost to a fault. There's funky graffiti art everywhere—from the replica Banksy on the wall to the Obey Giant posters sprawled across the movable oversized coffee table—underscoring the countercultural vibe. Towards the back, there's a large tent in the shape of a classic Volkswagen bus.

Sooo, yeah. An odd place.

So much so that the waffles seem a bit tame by comparison, though they still have their quirks. They are in fact a special type of Belgian waffle, the Liège waffle, which uses chunks of pearl sugar in the dough to create a dense, lightly sweet bite.

I've been twice, and both times I got The Number Seven—with candied bacon, goat cheese and avocado it just seems the obvious choice on the savory side. Unfortunately, this time were out of their lilikoi (aka passionfruit) lemonade, which was refreshing and deliciously tropical when I had it previously.

The Number Seven is very respectable (and appropriately atypical) waffle. It's a wonderful mix of flavors: You get some tanginess from the goat cheese, salt from the bacon, and sweetness from the bacon's brown sugar crust and the waffle itself, along with a nice avocado creaminess. When you manage to corral all those ingredients together into one bite, it's heavenly. (That's easier said than done, though, since the avocado's plunked in the center, and the cheese crumbles tend to roll off and onto the tray.) Also, it's a small thing, but both times the avocado has been a bit stringy; while they don't affect flavor, those little brown fibers just aren't so appetizing.

Yeah, I wasn't kidding about the tent.

"Atypical Waffle" is clearly the right name for this place (and an improvement on "Wow Wow Waffle," its previous moniker). It's the sort of spot that I won't visit very often, but I'm really glad to know exists in our city. Because after all, who doesn't need a little oddity and a tasty waffle in their lives once in a while?

Score: 7.5 out of 10 (Great)