RESTAURANT REVIEW : Meaty Meal With South-of-Border Style Is as Close as El Rincon

My friend Vern and I are sitting in an orange Formica table-and-chair contraption that’s bolted to the floor next to a window that offers a full panoramic view of Panorama City’s diagonal intersection of Terra Bella and Nordhoff streets. Above Vern’s head, on a wall paved with bullfighting posters, handbills and memorabilia, is a stuffed and mounted bull’s head. We’re at El Rincon Taurino in Panorama City. “Born in East L.A.” is blaring on the jukebox, and I’m contemplating a rico taco de sesos, i.e., a soft-shelled taco of brains.

I have to admit, I’ve never eaten brains. Sweetbreads, kidneys, heart, yes. Brains, no. I touch the grayish, soft, wobbly substance and try not to look at the bull’s head. A squealing of tires momentarily distracts me: a mere 30 feet away, on the other side of the glass, a left-turning Impala almost demolishes a Toyota Corolla. Both cars stop, then proceed soberly through the intersection. It’s a minute before I remember the taco in my hands, and when I do, I say, “I’m not sure I can put brains in my mouth.”

“Oh, go ahead,” says Vern. “You might learn something.”

We drove up the Golden State Freeway expecting a Mexican restaurant. What we found is this Mexican fast-food stand/bullfighting shrine with a limited menu: meat. Forget soup, salad, garnish--at El Rincon Taurino, it’s all pork and beef served up in tacos, burritos, and tortas. In addition to the familiar cultural-crossover hits of carne asada and carnitas, there are the aforementioned sesos (brains), lengua (tongue), buches (stomach), cabeza (beef head), milaneza (fried steak), chicharrones (deep-fried pork rinds), pierna (pork leg), and al pastor (barbecued pork).

This is traditional Mexican fare at its best, but it’s neither food nor atmosphere for those faint of heart. A glass case next to the counter holds hefty, partially carved pork legs and beef heads; on a vertical rotisserie is a huge, raggedy sphere of barbecued pork layered with pickled onions. Vegetarians needn’t look. The adventurous carnivore, however, is in for a mind-boggling range of mouthwatering textures and flavors. Hemingway would’ve loved El Rincon Taurino.

Tacos, built on doubled four-inch demi-tortillas, are small enough to encourage experimentation, while tortas (sandwiches) and burritos (augmented with rice and beans) are more meal-sized. Everything is juicy and fresh, and we learn quickly to obtain a lot of napkins. “You don’t want to drip anything on your clothes in here,” says Vern. “It’ll burn right through ‘em.” The red salsa is hotter than the green, but both are definitely spicy, and the heat is cumulative. One does, on several occasions throughout a meal, reach that irrational euphoria of near-tears heat, where the only thing that makes sense is to take another bite.

While I don’t mind eating fire, it takes me a while to summon the courage for those brains. When I finally do so, I’m not wildly impressed: they’re similar to sweetbreads, but even doused with El Rincon’s wonderful green chile sauce, they have a watery, boiled taste and an amorphous, squishy texture. My squeamishness dissipates with the buches taco, however; sauced with the same mild, but full-flavored green chile salsa, the meat is tasty and a pleasure to chew--gratifyingly resilient without being tough.

I’m accustomed to eating chicharrones from a bag; served in a taco, their shattery crunchiness is complemented by the soft tortilla and the fiery red chile salsa. This taco is so delicious, I must consciously remember to eat it slowly, and wash it down with a lot of liquid. Devoured too quickly, dry chicharrones stick in the throat and expand, an occasionally unpleasant, sometimes painful sensation I call the chicharrone choke. Both the sweet, milky horchata and ultra-sweetened pineapple drink serve as excellent chicharrone chasers.

The milaneza, a well-seasoned breaded steak that’s fried crispy and slivered, is rich and crunchy and delicious. The tongue has a darker, denser flavor and toothsome texture, and the pork leg is rather more ordinary: basic roast pork, it’s good in a torta, with a slab of avocado, fresh tomato, and pickled jalapenos. The carne asada is a little dry, the carnitas are perfect and the beef head has a great minerally, baked-in bone flavor.

But my favorite meat, hands down, is the al pastor. Carved off in shreds from that huge orb of stratified pork and pickled onions, heated on the grill until the flavors are highly concentrated and the meat reduced to dark little squiggles, it’s like the best, most intense sauerbraten I’ve ever had.

Despite the meat-only offerings, I wasn’t bored for a second in this little restaurant. I’ve just begun to read the walls, the jukebox has everything from Spanish ballads to Huey Lewis, and the intersection provides nonstop drama. I ask one of the five cooks how many accidents actually occur in a week.

“Oh, about ten,” he says and points to the fire hydrant across the street. “Last May, a car took that out and the water sprayed for five hours. That was the best.”

El Rincon Taurino, 14551 Nordhoff, Panorama City . (818) 893-5927. Open 11 a.m.-9 p.m. daily. Cash only. Lunch or dinner for two, food only, $4 to $16.