Downtown cultural shift

As I was walking around downtown, I saw something that makes me think about the cultural change to come from the neighborhood's recent renewal.

If you check out the website for The Spring Street Lofts, you can see what great spaces the units are, and how young creative people are living and working in them. The common areas of the building are pleasant and provide a haven from the streets. From the sidewalk, the property is attractive. There's a cafe on the first floor, and when you walk past you hear the sound of a cappuccino machine steaming milk. The menu features panini, chai, specialty coffees, Pellegrino water. There were young men and women sitting at the outdoor tables under market umbrellas, relaxing.

But what's that on the north side of the building?

A tiny lunch stand, at the front of the parking lot, attached to the building like a lean-to, is the Mai Supertaco Restaurant. Its handpainted signs and mismatched outdoor furniture contrast with the polished yet casual look of the LA Cafe. A sign, a faded pentimento, overlooked the parking lot, on the back of the Palace Theatre's stagehouse on Broadway. Here, the menu features tortas, quezadillas, and birria de chiva on Saturdays.

It was time for lunch. I'm sure you can guess which place I chose.

My two carnitas tacos were presented to me on a tray which I took over to the narrow counter running down the side of the little shop, and sat on a red vinyl stool while I ate. The tacos were so full of meat I had to eat some with my fork before I could pick them up neatly. There were chopped onions and cilantro, and a deep red salsa that had the great, slightly alkiline taste of real chile. There was a young man with plaster dust on his shoes at one of the tiny tables eating a torta.

Behind the counter, two women worked at the grill. An elderly lady with a hairnet on stepped out to clear a table. While I ate, a couple of to-go orders were picked up. I read the hand-painted signs for the daily specials, which came with a free agua fresca or bottled soda.

When I was finished, I handed the abuela a ten dollar bill for my two tacos and 2 bottles of Arrowhead water (one I drank there, and one to carry with me). She gave me back $4.50. I folded a dollar and pushed it through the hole cut into the plastic top of the tip jar. The abuela took a ripe red Santa Rosa plum from a bowl on the table, and pressed one into my hand. When I tried to ask her how much it was, she shook her head, and closed my fingers over it.

Gracias, Abuela. I'll have that capuccino some other day.