By the Secret Diner –
In our last review, Mrs. Secret Diner and I described our experience at The Little Lion, 5952 Telegraph Road. Check them out — and tell them the Secret Diner sent you. Read on and see if you can guess where we went next.
Okay, okay … that probably wasn’t Stacy Keach at the bar during our last Secret Diner mission. Mrs. Diner and I are still waiting for a celebrity encounter here in sunny California. A writer friend offered some poignant advice: maybe if we quit trying so hard, what we pine for might come to us unbidden. Until then, spotting doppelgängers will have to suffice — and perhaps, when we least expect it, we’ll share a quick exchange, a red-eye flight into Burbank, or even a cocktail with pop culture fame.
The setup for our most recent dining adventure begins in the doldrums of the COVID-19 shutdown in spring 2020. These were days of uncertainty, fear, and boredom, when we all wondered when life would get back to “normal.”
Normal is a tricky word, isn’t it? Its definition is slippery, and using it automatically implies that everything else is abnormal. Back then, we were wiping down delivered groceries and wondering when we could again dine in a restaurant, hear a favorite band or travel without fear of infection. Mrs. Diner and I passed those days binge-watching The Sopranos and “traveling” the world through food from the few places still offering delivery.
One day, just before everything shut down, I was getting a haircut. The barbers were talking food, raving about a place serving Caribbean fare. Acting on their enthusiasm, Mrs. Diner and I placed a takeout order. I don’t remember exactly what we ate — jerk fries, probably, and a flight of empanadas.
Tip No. 2 from this Secret Diner episode: Take restaurant advice from your barber. They know.
So, for our next culinary sortie, Mrs. Diner and I headed back to that Caribbean Island off Victoria, this time in person. Caribbean food is a wonderful metaphor — a mashup of cultures, flavors, and techniques. Harmony on a plate that inspires hope for harmony among people.
It’s easy to overlook this eatery from the street; strip-mall sameness belies what lies inside. A panel of digital menus displays the diversity we came seeking: apps, sandwiches, burgers, Caribbean entrées, Filipino entrées, salads, sides, Jamaican sodas. A Piet Mondrian–esque backsplash at the counter — all colorful shapes and patterns — feels like the perfect symbol of the kaleidoscope of flavors on the menu. We tried to order so we could taste as many as possible.
For appetizers, we chose the empanadas and veggie lumpia. For entrées, Mrs. Diner ordered chicken pancit, and I went for the oxtail stew. To drink, two Jamaican sodas: pineapple-ginger and kola.
Seating options include butcher-block high tops, banquet benches with tall chairs, and four-top tables with green, flowered upholstery. We chose banquet seating near the kitchen. Before we’d even finished our first sip of soda, we could hear the lumpia sizzling in hot oil.
Each tabletop sports a vase with plastic flowers and a fun placard sharing information about the countries represented on the menu. At our table, we learned that the Philippines has a population of 101 million, and the national dish of Montserrat is Goat Water — which, sadly, isn’t on the menu. We would have ordered it just for the name.
The lumpia arrived hot and crisp — a flaky wrap around julienned vegetables — with a bright sweet-and-sour sauce for dipping. The empanadas came golden brown with a sweet-savory filling we couldn’t get enough of.
The stew was reminiscent of Mrs. Secret Diner’s braised short ribs — different, but equally satisfying — and the bowl wasn’t nearly deep enough. I could have drunk the gravy. I’m not sure about the etiquette, but I picked up the oxtail with my fingers and ate it like hot wings. Sloppy and splendid.
The glass noodles in Mrs. Secret Diner’s pancit were the perfect vehicle for the chicken, and she shared a second bite only reluctantly.
If “back to normal” means returning to life before the pandemic, I’m not sure we’re there yet — and maybe that shouldn’t be the goal. Nostalgia can rose-color the reality of the past. Moving forward, let’s normalize the diversity and cultural harmony represented by this food.
Get out. Eat good food. Keep good company.
Think you know where we dined this time? Check out our next review to see if you’re right and to join us on our next adventure.
