by Roy Choi
I popped in a cassette and started bumping some Zapp. We leaned back and started to cruise toward Norwalk. Local streets the whole way, going about thirty-five miles per hour, pulling into a liquor store to get a soda and a bag of chips. Then over to the stop sign so Rob could jump out and grab two bags of fruit, chopped fresh from a cart. Cucumbers, jícama, pineapple, mango, strawberries, oranges, and melon chopped and screwed with chili powder, salt, lime juice, all thrown in a plastic bag with a plastic fork, and we were off again.
We cruised slowly down Pioneer Boulevard, looking at doughnut shops and burger stands, catching the eyes of girls. Robert whistled out the window, saying, “What’s up? What’s up?” to the ladies. I pulled over and over and over, filling his pockets with phone numbers. Me, I came up empty-handed—the girls loved my ride, but the Chicanas in Norwalk and Whittier didn’t want to be the first one to date the Chino. All good, though; girls weren’t a big part of my life yet. I just enjoyed seeing my friend get some and have fun.
Finally, with one hand on the wheel, I pulled into the lot of the now closed Excelsior High School, creeping up the driveway. Just a tender scrape below, bumping some oldies, filling the whole place with my arrival. Shit, everybody was looking as Robert and I cruised in.
All the mini trucks were lined up on one side. Impalas and Bombers on the other. Doors open, truck beds lifted in the air with hydraulics. Girls everywhere and a bunch of veteranos in white tanks and Locs, tatted from head to toe. Geeked-out car dudes in blue T-shirts polishing their rims. Some kids running around. I could smell carne asada and chorizo on the grill, and there was, of course, beer. It felt so right, so good. As we crept through looking for our spot, everybody gave us that Cali head nod. The head nod that is part inquisitive, part code, part whattup, part beware, and all the way L.A.
“What’s up, aye?” A guy approached me and put out his hand.
I slid my hand and did the homie handshake. Smooth and glide from side to side, up then down and out, with a snap.
“What’s up? My name is Roy. They call me Raw or Chino sometimes; thanks for having me.”
“Yeah, Rob told me about you, and once I heard you had a Blazer I knew I had to meet you. Rob’s word is golden to me, and everybody here knows you are familia, so don’t trip.” The leader introduced his crew. “We’re the Street City Minis, and we rep Norwalk, Pico Rivera, and Whittier. Let me check out your ride, homie.”
The Street City Minis crew was one of the best in central Los Angeles. They had an extremely deep OG network, great mechanics, big family lineage, and a true love for the game. Each ride was unique, too, with each guy specializing in interior or paint or wheels. Lowriding, you see, is all about family, support, respect. It’s how the tough guys show their sensitive insides, express themselves and their energies, and how Chicanos celebrate and enjoy time. It looks scary to some folks, a bunch of brown people standing around, but it’s our culture. A deep culture, mind you, that has rules and membership: if you have to try to join in, you’ll probably be left out cold. Either your soul is a kindred spirit or it’s not. That simple.
We walked around the Blazer and checked out the rims. Then the interior, a cool shade of camel suede, and we popped the hood that I kept polished underneath. Wheels to roof, the Blazer had a swagger that could not be denied.
“This ride is firma, Holmes,” he said. “Let me introduce you to some OGs and get you some comida and we can see about getting you into our crew,” he said. Pop quiz: is that a joke, a threat, a game, or true and genuine? If you’re still thinking about it, you’re already way behind. He walked me around and showed me the other cars as I shook hands with countless homies and said hello to girls and kids. They handed me a beer and a plate of tacos and some tamales. I grubbed as we walked, listening and feeling right at home.
We got back to my ride, and he asked me, “So, what do you think?”
“I like it here. You guys really got some fresh rides, and it feels like family.”
“Well, what do you think about becoming a part of our crew? We can jump you in later . . . nah, just fucking with you, eh!” Still with that devilish grin of his, halfway being serious to see where I came from. “Really, though, we approve of your ride and think it is Street City worthy. And Rob is family, so what you say?”
I looked around. This was 1987, and I would be one of, if not the only, Asian dude hanging with the deepest clique in the game in the deepest culture of our city. And yet I felt right at home and saw myself as nothing less than a straight muthafuckin’ G. And they saw it too. Game recognizes game.
The spirits clicked.
“Let’s do it.” Cool as a cucumber. I was officially part of the tribe.
He made an announcement, and all I could see were genuine smiles and whistles, head nods, handshakes, and “Orajale, Chino. Welcome to the familia.”
Over the next few weeks, we took my whip to the garage and airbrushed the plaka on the back window—“Street City Minis, Norwalk, CA”—ride and shine. Man, I was so damn proud to rep Norwalk all throughout Pico Rivera and Whittier and La Mirada. Shoulders out, head high. Sometimes that’s the most important thing on the streets of L.A.
We’d cruise every Friday and Saturday night down Pioneer up to Whittier Boulevard, through Pico Rivera, always one homie in shotgun and the backseat empty but for the girls you hollered at to jump in. A mini-parade to show off our feathers, if you will, fluffed up with hormones, wet lips, Budweisers, and “Hey, hey, qué onda, girl? Where you going, aye?”
My homies were making babies in the back, but I was just fine cruising with the back window flipped up, bumping EPMD, grinding on my Slim Jims, and eating chicharrón chips. I was having the time of my life even though I wasn’t getting laid or even getting hickies.
This was Los Angeles 1987–88, Papi Chulo in the making.
CARNE ASADA
* * *
There are few foods more emblematic of Los Angeles than carne asada. In fact, the phrase has become so recognizable that you don’t even have to translate it to English: just say it out loud, and most people will know it’s marinated beef, thinly sliced and grilled to a char on a sunny Cali picnic day. I have heavy roots with carne asada: I grew up around it in Koreatown and ate it almost every day as a lowrider. I love that it’s a wet marinade but somehow dries the meat just right. Whenver you eat carne asada, it feels like L.A. Wash it down with some fresh horchata. Orale, carnal.
SERVES 4
MARINADE
¼ cup garlic cloves, peeled
¼ onion, peeled
¼ cup chopped scallions
¼ cup ancho chile powder
1 tablespoon freshly ground black pepper
2 jalapeño peppers
½ bunch fresh cilantro
¾ cup Budweiser or any other beer you got in the fridge
Juice and grated zest of 1 orange
Juice and grated zest of 2 limes
½ kiwifruit, peeled
¼ cup mirin
Good pinch of kosher salt
Good pinch of sugar
1 pound skirt steak
Combine all the ingredients for the marinade in a blender or food processor and puree.
Rub the marinade all over the steak and marinate the meat in the refrigerator, covered, for at least an hour and up to 2 days.
When you’re ready to grill, heat the grill to medium heat, brush with oil, and cook the steak for 10 minutes, until it’s nice and charred on the outside and medium on the inside.
Rest the meat for 5 to 10 minutes; then eat. YUM.
BEEF JERKY
* * *
Liquor store runs with the Grove Street Mob. Camping trips. Car trips. Drinking snacks. Beef jerky fit into every facet of my life, especially during high school. To this day I trip out on the old containers in the corner stores in plastic tubs, just sitting there like it’s normal to have meat in a tub next to doughnuts. Funny shit.
MAKES ABOUT 1 POUND
1 pound flank steak, cut i
nto large cubes
1 cup garlic cloves, peeled
1 cup natural rice vinegar (not seasoned)
4 serrano chiles, split lengthwise
2 cups sugar
2½ cups soy sauce
2 cups water
1 yellow or white onion, sliced
1 cup chopped scallions
Pinch of red chile flakes
Combine all the ingredients in a large pot and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat to a simmer and skim the scum off the surface of the liquid every so often. Cook until the garlic becomes soft and golden brown, about an hour.
Using a slotted spoon or a spider, remove the meat from the pot and scoop it onto a wire rack set over a sheet pan (to catch drips). Let it rest in the refrigerator overnight. Strain the liquid and set it aside on the counter, where it’ll stay while the meat is refrigerating.
The next morning, remove the beef and shred it.
AFTER REMOVING THE MEAT FROM THE POT, DON’T DISCARD THE LIQUID! SPLASH SOME ON A BOWL OF RICE OR PICKLE SOME EGGS: HARD-BOIL 6 EGGS, PEEL, THEN THROW ’EM IN THE POT AND LET THEM SIT IN YOUR REFRIGERATOR OVERNIGHT. ANOTHER DELICIOUS SNACK.
BEEF JERKY
LIKE NO OTHER.
FO DAYS.
YELLOW RICE AND GOAT STEW
* * *
When I was in high school, me and the Grove Street guys used to break into a Greek shop called the Mad Greek late at night and cook ourselves up a feast. The goat the shop used in the gyros was amazing, and I’ve liked the taste of goat and saffron and turmeric ever since. There is something very grounding about these flavors, and I put them in a stew here to make it that much more homey. I hope you and your crew can enjoy them and fill your party with smells that seem to stick to the walls.
SERVES 4 TO 6
MARINADE
3 dried chiles de árbol
1 dried California chile
¼ jalapeño pepper, charred
1 teaspoon kochukaru
1 Roma tomato, charred
3 cloves garlic, peeled
3 sprigs fresh cilantro
onion, charred
2 scallions, charred
¼ cup cubed mango
Juice of ½ lime
Juice of ¼ orange
2 tablespoons cider vinegar
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
½ teaspoon ground turmeric
¼ teaspoon ground allspice
Pinch of ground cumin
Kosher salt and freshly ground pepper to taste
MEAT
3 tablespoons canola oil
1 pound goat meat, cut into chunks
RICE
2 cups jasmine rice, rinsed
¼ cup coconut milk
¼ cup fresh lime juice
5¼ cups water
Good pinch of saffron threads
Good pinch each of kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
½ cup chopped fresh cilantro, chopped
1 tablespoon butter
Combine all the ingredients for the marinade in a blender or food processor and puree. Coat the goat with the puree and marinate it in the fridge, covered, for 2 hours.
Heat a heavy pan or Dutch oven and drizzle in the oil, heating until it’s smoking lightly. Remove the goat from the marinade, reserving the marinade. Sear the goat on all sides, then pour in the marinade, adding enough water to cover the meat completely. Simmer everything until the meat is nice and tender, 1 to 2 hours.
HOW TO CHAR VEGETABLES
CHARRING VEGETABLES IS AN EASY WAY TO ADD SOME NICE, SMOKY FLAVOR TO YOUR DISH. PUT THE VEGGIE IN A DRY PAN OVER MEDIUM HEAT AND TURN IT A FEW TIMES UNTIL IT’S BLACK ON ALL SIDES. IF YOU HAVE A GAS STOVE, YOU CAN PUT THE VEGETABLE DIRECTLY OVER A LOW FLAME, TURNING IT PERIODICALLY UNTIL IT’S BLISTERED ON ALL SIDES.
When the goat is almost done, combine the rice, coconut milk, lime juice, water, saffron, salt, and pepper in a rice cooker or in a saucepan. Cook, covered, over low heat until all the liquid has been absorbed and the rice is nice and fluffy, 20 to 30 minutes. Fold in the cilantro and butter.
Taste the goat stew and adjust the seasoning if necessary.
Pour the goat stew over the rice and EAT SLOPPILY.
PORK AND BEANS
* * *
My parents came home from American supermarkets with a lot of random-ass canned food, so we had everything from onion dip to Spam to corned beef hash to cream of mushroom soup to Vienna sausages to pork and beans. And when I popped open that can of pork ’n’ beans, I always tripped on that little piece of white lard that would swim in the mix. It was like a toy in a cereal box. I hope you enjoy my version and find your own imaginary toy within it.
SERVES 4 TO 6
1 pound dried pinto beans, soaked in cold water overnight and rinsed
1 pound pork belly, cut into cubes
3 tamarind pods
½ cup garlic cloves, sliced
¼ onion, chopped
2 jalapeño peppers, chopped
1 cup chopped fresh cilantro
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 tablespoons roasted sesame seeds
Put the soaked and rinsed pinto beans in a large pot, cover with water by at least an inch, and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat to a simmer and add the pork belly, tamarind pods, garlic, onion, and jalapeños.
Simmer everything until the beans are tender, about an hour. Add the cilantro, reserving a bit for garnishing the bowls, and season with salt and pepper to your liking. Simmer for another 30 minutes.
Ladle the beans into bowls and garnish each with some roasted sesame seeds and chopped cilantro to make it look pretty.
KUNG PAO CHICKEN, PAPI STYLE
* * *
I love kung pao chicken, and we—me and the Grove Street crew—ate loads of it because it was cheap or we were stoned. I love it in any way, any form, mall food court to fancy to hole in the wall to family home. This is my little homage to the steam well that exists in every city in every 99-cent-egg-roll storefront. Use equal parts chicken and vegetables
SERVES 4 TO 6
SAUCE
2 tablespoons oyster sauce
2 tablespoons chili garlic sauce or sambal oelek
1 tablespoon Chinese chili oil
2 tablespoons fish sauce
1 tablespoon Tapatío, Cholula, or other hot sauce
2 tablespoons natural rice vinegar (not seasoned)
3 garlic cloves, peeled
2 tablespoons roasted garlic
2 tablespoons fresh orange juice
1½ teaspoons sugar
1½ teaspoons kochujang
1½ teaspoons kochukaru
2 tablespoons soy sauce
½ jalapeño pepper
¼ cup fresh Thai basil leaves
¼ cup roughly torn fresh cilantro
2 tablespoons minced lemongrass
onion, peeled
¼ cup chopped scallions
1 tablespoon Sriracha
1½ teaspoons roasted sesame seeds
¼ cup Asian sesame oil
FOR THE WOK
Canola oil
Dark-meat chicken, diced
Dried chile de árbol
Bell peppers, julienned
Onions, julienned
Scallions, julienned
Baby bok choy, julienned
Watercress
Chinese water spinach, roughly chopped
Eggplant, julienned
Fresh Thai basil leaves
Roasted peanuts
Fresh cilantro, chopped
Lime, halved
Combine all the sauce ingredients in a blender or food processor and puree the shit out of them.
Heat a wok or large pan over high heat and add the oil, heating until it starts to smoke. Add the chicken and move it around until the meat is lightly caramelized and cooked almost through, about 4 minutes. Transfer to a paper-towel-lined plate.
Add a touch more oil to the pan and turn the heat up full blast. Add the whole
chile de árbol and swirl it around the pan. Then add all your veggies in whatever batch size you decide to make, but add them in equal portions.
Immediately after you throw in your vegetables, add ¼ cup of the pureed sauce for every two cups of chicken and/or vegetables, plus a splash of water to thin it all out slightly.
Add the chicken back to the pan and cook the stew together until the chicken is cooked through, about a minute. Turn off the heat.
Add the Thai basil and peanuts. Garnish with more Thai basil and cilantro. Splash it with half a lime if you have one around, then serve with rice.
SALSA VERDE
* * *
There are two sauces that define L.A. and OC: salsa roja and salsa verde. It’s who we are and who we’ve become. I could eat anything with salsa verde; now so can you.
MAKES ALMOST 2 CUPS
¼ cup mirin
½ cup natural rice vinegar (not seasoned)
½ cup fresh mint leaves
1 cup roughly torn fresh cilantro
¼ cup fresh Thai basil leaves
3 garlic cloves, peeled
½ shallot, peeled
2 serrano chiles
1 jalapeño pepper
Juice and grated zest of 1 lime
2 tablespoons roasted sesame seeds
2 tomatillos, charred
½ cup canola oil
½ cup olive oil
½ avocado
Pinch of kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
Combine all the ingredients in a blender or food processor and puree.
DRINK.
BURP.
SMILE.
HORCHATA
* * *
Big Styrofoam cup the size of a football, fútbol playing on the tube, the sound of extraction coming from the tube when poured out of the machine, tacos about to be eaten . . . nothing could be better. The sweet flavor of cinnamon on your lips and the viscous milk and toasted rice. That moment when you’re eating tacos and drinking horchata, nothing else matters.