At what point does distance transform from cost to craving? The moment one reaches the counter at La Super-Rica offers an appetizing example. It may be more than an hour’s drive from West L.A., and it may take twenty minutes to get through the line that’s snaked out the front door for over twenty years, but as long as the California sun is shining, the grill is hot, and the salsas are fresh, I can see why any trip to this local legend is a pleasure all its own.

The trick to La Super-Rica is that it lacks any hallmarks of so-called “destination dining.” Its short-order setup – order at the counter, catch a glimpse of the cooks throwing rajas on the grill, pick up your food at the service window, then consume it straight out of styrofoam and tinfoil in a tarp-draped picnic area – and its no-frills, low-key approach to seasoning would be less lionized if the joint’s setup weren’t so damn essential and its food weren’t so damn memorable. Grounded in fresh corn tortillas and a simple set of dishes, this menu seems to have left behind its founder’s estilo Jalisco while simultaneously stripping it down to fundamentals.

Fundamental is probably the best word for the occasion. This is not the rich cauldron of flavors that is Super Cocina or the lively presentation of Oaxacan recipes at Monte Alban. Super-Rica’s game, apparently drawing from Mexico City tradition, is more like that of a street-side cart. The handmade tortillas and salsa are as good as anything else on the menu, all of which serves best as a benchmark – just the kind of commonplace rarity that is lost when diners get caught up in the quest for a holy grail.

Super-Rica’s beans, served in its own cooking broth and offering next to no flavor outside the natural taste of the legume and a sprinkling of chorizo and bacon, is another great example of clean, understated taste.

Mashed with chiles and fried into a small disc of fresh masa, the beans do just as well in this gordita de frijol. Neither appearance of beans qualifies as exciting, but both are certainly comforting.

So is this chile relleno, one of the few daily specials posted at Super-Rica’s counter each morning. Roasted, filled with queso blanco, breaded, fried, and doused with a mild cream sauce that appears on several other menu items, this is one of the house’s more technically deft dishes. The result is remarkable not because it goes over the top of richness, but because it takes the form of something one could go on eating for hours.

Super Rica Especial, second in popularity to a weekly offering of pozole, is the star of its off-the-cuff estilo. Grilled slices of pork adobada are tossed with a cheese-stuffed, roasted and chopped poblano in the least involved manner imaginable for a flagship special; yet, this seemingly tossed-off, kitchen-sink plate needs no other dimension to be deeply savored – except perhaps a hefty splash of the house’s extremely tangy salsa verde.

Even Super-Rica’s eponymous course can’t stand up to its chorizo especial. Nothing more than a half-melted hunk of salty queso blanco studded with just-grilled hunks of house-made chorizo, this small bowl of simple pleasures is revels in its own pool of spicy, creamy grease. Taken with hot tortillas and cool salsa roja, it’s like Mexico’s volley to Italy’s finest serving of bruschetta.

Whenever I come across criticism of La Super-Rica, it seems to fall into the charge of being “unremarkable.” I suppose that insult depends on how one spends his remarks. Sometimes, the stretch between a diner and a great meal is equal to the distance chefs have strayed from the basics, and as long as foods inspired by freshness and competence lie at the heart of good cooking, I’ll be talking about my last road trip to Santa Barbara for years to come.

La Super-Rica Taqueria
622 N. Milpas St
Santa Barbara, CA 93103
805.963.4940

Share this story. Stay hungry.

• 

This entry was posted on Tuesday, February 1st, 2011 at 12:01 am and is filed under travel.