Andy's
I really miss Andy’s.
It seemed like the old hut it was located in was some kind of historical building. Not historic in the sense that it would be recognized by the correct authorities and spared from alterations or demolition. But historic in that it looked like it has been there since the days when North Hollywood was where horses were stabled for the latest John Wayne film. The hut is solitary. Surrounded by commercial developments on all sides. Giant storage sheds. Wood-turning facilities. None of these were there when the building that housed Andy’s was built. But they stand over it now, casting shadows across the awning advertising tacos to passers-by.
The advertising was what first pulled me into Andy’s. Advertising works. Why do you think so many billions of dollars are spent on it every year? Andy’s advertising was simple but effective. The large canvas printed sheets that you can order from the local print shop. Glossy, waterproof, safe from all the elements. Andy’s advertisements were draped across the outside of the building facing onto Vineland. A very busy thoroughfare. Also a slightly complicated traffic section where drivers kind of have to pay attention. It’s right at the beginning of the Chandler bike path that runs all the way to Burbank. There's a traffic light directly outside Andy’s that looks to be simple, but really involves a kind of double-stop as you go through one light and then immediately arrive at another that serves the bike path. These lights should logically be synced, but in practice that’s not always the case. One can find themselves happily cruising through a green light only to have to come to a jarring stop 20 feet down the road at another light that feels like it shouldn’t be there. But people have to be able to get to the bike path safely, so the multi-light setup remains. All of this is to say, if you’re driving past, and you get distracted by Andy’s colorful advertising signs, you might find yourself in a traffic situation. I was walking by, per usual, so I was able to take in their full glory.
“5 for $5 Fish Taco Thursdays”. My god. Say less. I did not earn a lot of money at the time. But I really liked fish tacos, and this was the best deal I had ever seen. One dollar Taco Tuesday deals were around, but it was hard to find a good one. And in my experience fish was rarely included. Carnitas, pollo, ground beef, things that could be cooked in giant batches and slopped out with great speed were the order of the Tuesday. Andy’s offered similar fare on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. I wouldn’t know if it was good because I never tried it. I stuck to the seafood offerings later in the week. 5 for $5 fish tacos on Thursdays. 4 for $5 shrimp tacos on Fridays. Fried, not grilled.
They were small tacos that became very substantial when viewed and eaten as a whole. The tortillas were store-bought. They doubled up. Some liked to eat the taco with one tortilla and use the remaining spare to catch any flotsam and jetsam from the original taco and eat it as a fresh one. I did no such thing. I like the texture and sensation of the double tortilla. The fish was battered and fried. It came out in perfect almost finger-like shapes. Little bit of cabbage, some pico de gallo, and topped with a squirt of crema. This times 5, nestled into a piece of greaseproof paper in one of the red hatched baskets that is so typical of American food. It looked wonderful, smelled amazing, and tasted out of this world.
The salsa bar was par excellence. My favorite was a bitter green salsa. Don’t know what was in it. Never asked. Don’t need to. It was my friend. The usual selection of pickled vegetables accompanied the salsas in the metal servery where you lift up the lid to reveal separate compartments of goodness. Carrots cut into chunks on an angle. Jalapenos sliced on the diagonal. I would always take a couple and use them to overstuff my tacos. Not necessary at all, it was an indulgence. But that bitter green salsa…
The fish was line-caught in the Pacific Northwest. Maybe. It was what it was, but it was excellent. The batter more tempura than glug. Tortillas always warmed to perfection on the same grill that was sizzling a char onto someone else’s asada burrito. Those things cost $8. I couldn’t fathom why anyone would go to Andy’s and not order the taco special. Maybe it was an exceptional burrito? I wouldn’t know.
5 fish tacos took up the whole red plastic basket. It really was a significant amount of food. This is America so nothing actually costs what it says it costs. The $5 tacos were $6.15 when accounting for tax. I always tipped a couple bucks. When I got my first pay raise at work I started handing them a crisp $10 for the whole affair. I felt that was generous. I wanted to be generous to Andy’s. The same people took my order and made my food every week. We never spoke outside pleasantries. I look back upon this time and wonder how $5 plus tax plus tip did anything to sustain a business with staff and food costs and regulations to adhere to. Turns out that in the end it didn’t. Andy’s was another victim of the pandemic. They kept going for a while, but they took down the taco special advertisements. I guess it wasn’t tenable at the end. Understandably so. It remains the best food deal I’ve ever seen in LA to this day.
Now Andy’s is no more. The building is still there. It’s even a restaurant, The Great White Hut. It might be good. I wouldn’t know. I can’t bear to go back. It just doesn’t feel great to me.
