We arrived to Los Angeles and immediately I found myself swimming in a sweet river of foreign foods made familiar through constant and unbridled exposure.
Sushi is around every block. I ate it at every given opportunity. California rolls were the favorites (how could they not be?!). But I also tried some spicy tuna. The best moment was when I tasted handmade sushi, lovingly prepared by my aunt, a Japan native. Bliss. Pure bliss. From there I went on to drink Boba tea, a style of milk tea in which balls of tapioca are placed at the bottom. It becomes a game of trying to get the balance between sweet, creamy tea and sticky bursts of tapioca that fit perfectly in the wide straw.
In Santa Monica I sampled Omusubi, essentially a ball of rice filled with assortments of meats and sauces wrapped in seaweed. Glorious. Because they did not quite fill up the appetites of a bunch of young males tired from a day of swimming in the icy Pacific, we then visited “Holy Guacamole,” a store that hits you first with a ludicrous mural depicting Michelangelo’s God reaching to man but with a Guacamole taco in hand, and then with the taco that makes the mural seem a little less out of whack.
And how could a trip out to the west coast be complete without a mention of the ever glorious In-N-Out Burger? A Double Double Animal Style with fries is all you really need to be happy. How do I describe the fries? Like they were fried. How do I respond to the claim that Five Guys is better than In-N-Out? With Laughter.