Lonche de Lomo at Primera Taza
When one hears rumors of a sandwich “that has brought fully grown men to tears” there’s only one road open to a dedicated sandwich hunter. Fortunately for me, that road was both metaphorically and literally a short one since I happen to work right on the edge of Boyle Heights.
The wildly cool Metro station at Mariachi Plaza.
Boyle Heights, for those unfamiliar with the ins and outs of Los Angeles, is east of downtown, just across the concrete trough that was once the wild Los Angeles River. The neighborhood is a center of Mexican culture and activism in the city, and has a long history of multi-ethnic political action stretching from Latinx/Jewish socialist solidarity in the 40s and 50s to the anti-gentrification, anti-deportation, and anti-fascist battles of today.
Naturally, the food is good. Mexican culture runs so deeply in Los Angeles that there’s no need to talk about “Mexican food” – we go out for Oaxacan mole and chapulines with cheese, or Jalisco-style pozole, or Sinaloan seafood, and on and on. I have a good chuckle when I see Midwestern friends on Facebook arguing over the best Mexican restaurant in Columbus. Sorry guys.
That sort of regional specificity accounts for the lonche as well – the bread is a birote salado, baked in Guadalajara and driven up from TJ, or so I hear. In my experience the torta is a fairly neglected species in the LA Mexican cuisine ecosystem, and the bread is often responsible for letting them down. While there are some excellent examples in the city – if you find yourself on the Eastside it’s worth working your way down the massive list at Cook’s Tortas – a lot of menus only include one as an afterthought, just another way to transport meats if for some dumb reason you don’t want tacos. The soft, largely flavorless white rolls that are kept on hand for that purpose have nothing much to offer a sandwich enthusiast.
This, however, is something more exciting. I ducked down to Primera Taza on my lunch break and, as luck would have it, they had the bread for their lonche on hand. I ordered one with pork – there’s a vegetarian option with cheese that will have to wait for another day – and a large black cafe de olla, lightly sweetened, that slapped me upside the head with a heavy dose of bitter cinnamon. It might not be the best in the city, as their sign claims, but it beats the hell out of Starbucks.
It arrives!
The sandwich arrived: thin slices of pork loin, avocado, Mexican crema, a few red onions, pickled jalapeños, and a splash of red salsa. The overall balance was good, the pork a bit tough but flavorful. I was interested in the salsa – it was thin with a surprisingly deep flavor, and it merged with the jus from the pork to soak into the bread.
That bread, though! Okay, I get it! The birote immediately punches you in the face with a powerful sourdough tang. The roll is a thicker sourdough roll with a medium crust and a stronger structure that doesn’t soak through and collapse like your normal white roll, but the flavor is the real draw. Such a powerful sourdough is rare in general, really more typical of the hard-crusted loaves at fancy restaurants; I’ve certainly never encountered something like that in a torta.
Note the thorough soaking.
While I finished the sandwich with dry eyes – and a bit faster than would be considered polite – I can see why that roll could inspire such a Proustian reaction. It stood out in flavor as well as texture in a way sandwich bread rarely does.
I think I’ll be back for the cheese version next week.
Public defender, rap listener, sandwich devourer
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