My wife enjoys a particular genre of British comedy that is heavy on silliness taken into surrealist territory, and occasionally I read one of her books just to see what she is laughing at. One of the jokes I remember is from a satire on conspiracy theories in which a British spy has spent months on a top-secret inquiry into the secret ingredient that makes Mexican food taste so good. Of all of his cases, it’s the only one he wasn’t able to crack.
Whether or not this was a dig at the British tendency to under-season things it was a good joke, and like all good jokes points at an underlying truth. There is a balance of elements in every culture’s cooking that can be mysterious to people who haven’t grown up with it, and it’s as much an intuition as a science.
We have a lot more talent in Mexican cooking in the South Bay than may perhaps be present in all of England, and while most practitioners stay with traditional dishes a few are playing with cross-cultural ideas. The longest running upscale Mexican place in the area is Ortega 120, which is noted not just for good food but for the dazzling décor. The interior is a gallery of Mexican modern art, with local touches like an exuberantly decorated surfboard and skateboard to remind you that you are in the South Bay. Mexican films from the 1930s run silently on one wall, and eye-catching dance sequences add an element of antique glamour to the experience.
When the restaurant opened in June of 2008 under founding chef Thomas Ortega, they were serving traditional items that we couldn’t get elsewhere: birria, mahi mahi in green mole sauce, and street tacos that smacked of East LA authenticity. Many of those authentic items are still there, but over the past nine years the menu has become more experimental. Executive chef Cris Brown has been working with Ortega for the last few years, and some of the ideas that have appeared during his watch push the boundaries even further. Not everything works, but the items that do are stunning.
You’re likely to be tempted by the appetizers, but a word or warning: some of these are served in such large portions that they’re entrée sized. My wife and I ordered the taquitos de la casa out of curiosity, since the idea of rolled tortillas stuffed with potato, spinach, and mushrooms sounded interesting. The five large taquitos topped with pickled red onions, cotija cheese, and drizzles of sour cream and avocado salsa were indeed diverting, but much more than enough for two. Taquitos are at their best when fresh and the main courses we had decided on would keep better as leftovers, we demolished every bit.
On that visit we had decided on plates of agave nectar and chipotle glazed salmon and pork belly with Mexican grits and a pineapple agave glaze. The salmon was a masterful composition, the glaze on the fish a perfect balance of sweet and spicy, a portion of rice with sautéed squash and onions a fine contrasting flavor. We were less impressed by the pineapple and pork belly, which had a tropical flavor that leaned towards polynesian tiki cuisine but needed some heat or sharper spice to add interest. The pork belly is rich and fatty; the grits enhanced that with their vegetable sweetness, and there was no contrasting sharpness to even that out. Some cilantro fennel salad on top took things in the right direction, but I’d have liked it better with a shot of cumin and chile in the sauce to cut through the richness.
An item I tried on another visit nailed that flavor balance: the spaghetti with short rib braised with Guajillo chile, in a Veracruz-style sauce that used chile de arbol. The meaty sauce had a tang of capers and olives and reminded me of a perfect Italian Bolognese with a Mexican twist. The chile warmth never went entirely into spicy territory, and it wasn’t as hot as arrabiata and puttanesca sauces I’ve had in Italian restaurants, but the smoky richness was authentically Mexican. This item is a must-have, and you’ll probably have enough left over for a snack later because the portion is very filling.
The menu is a little more conventional at brunch and we tried the chilaquiles and the chorizo and egg scramble. They make their own chorizo here, which you’ll know as soon as the plate arrives at the table because you don’t see the bright red ring of grease around your plate. Commercial Mexican chorizo is made of odds and ends of very fatty meat flavored with lots of paprika, while traditional Spanish chorizo is made of better cuts and has less seasoning. (Since the Spanish had colonies around the globe and the word chorizo refers to any type of pork sausage, there are other variants on chorizo in far-flung places like Argentina, the Philippines, and parts of India. The only thing they all have in common is that they’re made with pork.)
While I’m not a big fan of the greasiness of typical Mexican chorizo I like the spiciness at breakfast, so I found myself helping this along with a dash of their very good salsa. If you avoid chorizo because it’s too spicy or greasy, you may find this to be the best you’ve ever tasted. This was served with beans, house potatoes that turned out to be tater tots, and fresh handmade tortillas.
Our other brunch item, chilaquiles with eggs, was the traditional standard of deconstructed enchiladas served lasagna style. The red sauce had a slight but cumulative burn, just as it should, and the topping of micro-greens and pickled onions gave I some added interest. It came with beans and fried eggs, served with soft centers by default though you can get them fully cooked if you ask.
The bar program here is heavy on tequila drinks and worth a special trip if you like that liquor, because they have an excellent selection and lots of ideas on what to do with it. The pomegranate ginger margarita hit the nail on the head – you could taste the fruit and spicy ginger but also the blue agave tequila. An Old Fashioned variant called the Abuelo was also of interest, and if we weren’t driving we might have enjoyed experimenting with more of their selections.
Churros are offered for dessert, fried to order as they should be but seldom are, as well as tres leches cake, flan, and a bread pudding variant called canela crunch. I highly recommend the bread pudding variant, but you should ask your server to have the kitchen run it in the oven just before serving. otherwise It’s served at room temperature, but oven time restores the crunch.
Ortega 120 is reasonably priced for the quality; most dinners will set you back less than $20, and as I’ve mentioned the portions are generous. If that British spy is still looking for the secret to the flavor of Mexican food, he might go undercover in this kitchen and keep his eyes open.
Ortega 120 is at 1814 South PCH in Redondo. Open Mo-Thu 11:30 a.m. – 10 p.m., Fr-Sa 11:30 a.,m. – 11 p.m., Su 10:30 a.m. – 9 p.m., parking lot, wheelchair access good. Patio dining, vegetarian options, full bar, corkage $15, reservations accepted. Menu at ortega120.com. ER
