Birriera Chalio. Goat: The other, other, other white meat. If you’re
in the mood for a lot of goat, practically goat by the yard, it might be difficult
to do better than a long, goaty lunch among the mounted animal heads at the
original Birriera Chalio on Calle Primero, where the waitresses will bring plate
after plate of the restaurant’s signature Zacatecas-style birria —
chewy riblets and soft chunks of shoulder and muscley knots of leg meat —
until you practically have to beg them to stop. Hair of the dog? No, hair of
the goat. Birriera Chalio on Calle Primero, 3580 E. First St., Los Angeles,
(323) 268–5349. Mon.–Fri. 7 a.m.–8 p.m., Sat.–Sun. 7 a.m.–9
p.m. Beer and wine. Lot parking. Takeout. Latin. JG $

El Parian. El Parian’s sweet, mild goat meat has crispy parts and stewy
parts, just like carnitas. It clings to the tiny goat ribs, which you suck,
then spit back into the bowl. The broth, basically amplified pan drippings,
is rich essence of goat and the single best Mexican dish we’ve eaten in Los
Angeles — it is the soul of Guadalajara. There’s a thicket of cilantro to flavor
the broth, a heap of chopped onion, limes to squeeze and a fat radish to sweeten
your breath. The thick tortillas are warm and smell of fresh corn. The beer
is very cold. El Parian is supposed to be somewhat aphrodisiacal — and a tonic
for hangovers too, which is a special bonus on a Sunday morning. 1528 W.
Pico Blvd., downtown, (213) 386–7361. Mon.–Fri. 8 a.m.–9:30 p.m., Sat.–Sun.
7 a.m.–9:30 p.m. Beer. Cash only. Lot parking. Mexican. JG ¢

Jinju Gomtang. In Seoul, there is reputedly a Hangover Alley, a narrow
downtown street lined on both sides with restaurants dedicated to the art of
the curative tonics known collectively as gomtang. In Koreatown, this 24-hour
café is devoted to pale-bone broths garnished with oxtail or sliced brisket,
as bland as oatmeal and twice as soothing. But the real specialty of the place,
a soup you might consider having for lunch even if you weren’t on the wrong
side of a bottle of soju, is the spicy haejanguk, a pottage of cabbage, chiles,
scallions, garlic in a funky-fresh cow-part broth, garnished with little clots
of blood and ready to come alive with the addition of a little sea salt and
a lot of the restaurant’s house-made chile paste. 610 S. Western Ave.,
Los Angeles, (213) 383–6789. Open daily, 24 hours. Full bar. Lot parking.
AE, MC, V. Korean. JG $

Millie’s. As several generations of Silver Lake hipsters can attest,
Millie’s was designed to cure hangovers the way that penicillin was designed
to cure syphilis, a hot, crowded, underventilated slice of culinary purgatory
that cuts straight to the heart of the problem. Swear by the grease antidote?
Millie’s chicken-fried steak with 40-weight gravy is there for you. Believe
in a shock to the system? An extra-spicy Devil’s Mess omelet, which comes with
antitoxin doses of everything in the kitchen, may do the trick. Bacon and strong
coffee the ticket? You’ve come to the right place. For better or for worse,
Millie’s cooks breakfast like your dad used to make. And as they say, Father
knows best. 3524 W. Sunset Blvd., Silver Lake, (323) 664–0404. Open seven days,
7:30 a.m.–4 p.m. V, MC only. No liquor. Street parking. Takeout. American. JG
¢

Pann’s. Every Angeleno has a secret backdoor shortcut to the airport,
and Pann’s is smack on the route of at least two-thirds of them. It’s a grand
’50s coffee shop right on the triangle formed by the intersection of La Cienega,
La Tijera and Centinela, a bright, neon-lit fortress of patty melts, Dreamburgers,
banana splits and pie, bottomless cups of coffee, and a twangy soundtrack that
veers from Duane Eddy to Elvis and back. Mornings see customers from all over
Los Angeles, some of them bleary-eyed from the previous night’s festivities,
who can’t stay away from the sugar-cured ham, the thick blueberry pancakes or
the big plates of steak and eggs. Pann’s is a coffee shop, not a temple of cuisine,
but we all owe it to ourselves to stop by for a plate of chicken from time to
time. 6710 La Tijera Blvd., Los Angeles, (310) 670–1441. Open daily 7 a.m.–11
p.m. AE, MC, V accepted. Beer and wine. Lot parking. American. JG $

Tamales Liliana’s. Across the street from El Mercado, where one occasionally
overindulges on Bohemia and live mariachi music at the enchilada dives on the
top floor, Liliana’s is an especially soothing café, a place of fortifying champurrado,
spicy peanut mole and tamales legendary in East L.A., a place to restore yourself
over a weekend bowl of healthy cocido, tripe-laden menudo or bright-red posole.
How much chile do you add to your soup, you may ask? However much it takes to
calm the fires in your soul. 4619 Cesar E. Chavez Ave., East Los Angeles.
(323) 780–0989. Mon.–Fri. 8 a.m.–9 p.m., Sat.–Sun. 7 a.m.–9 p.m. No alcohol.
ATM cards, cash. Takeout. Lot parking. Mexican. JG ¢

Tommy’s. There’s no way around it: Eating a Tommyburger is an aggressive
act. You can’t stop at Tommy’s and expect to go back to the office; you can’t
inhale a Tommyburger at one in the morning and expect your spouse to kiss you
when you finally stagger home, no matter how persuasively you explain that the
chili pre-emptively filters the toxins out of beer. A Tommyburger is an uncouth
thing, a sloppy, stinking mess, oozing chili and raw onion, that takes over
your system for the better part of a day. Tommyburgers can’t really be considered
car food, unless you’re okay with orange grease spots on the upholstery and
an aroma that lasts longer than most warranties, but the Hollywood branch, a
drive-thru exquisitely positioned right off the Hollywood Boulevard exit of
the 101, makes it possible to coast in off the freeway, load up on chili burgers
and cruise back toward downtown in a scant minute. 5873 Hollywood Blvd.,
Hollywood, (323) 467–3792. Open daily, 24 hours. No alcohol. Lot parking. ATM
cards, cash. $4.20–$5.50. American. JG ¢

Yung Ho Tou Chiang. An excess of mai tai addled your brain? At Yung Ho Tou
Chiang, the breakfast protocol is easy. You order some soy milk, then some stuff
to go along with it: flaky buns stuffed with sweet, simmered turnips; steamed
buns filled with spiced pork or black mushrooms; crusty fried pies stuffed with
pungent messes of sautéed leek tops; steamed pork dumplings bursting with juice.
The traditional accompaniment to soy milk is a long, twisted, light-as-air cruller,
and Yung Ho does it well. For another buck or so, you can get the cruller smeared
with a salty paste of pounded meat and wrapped inside a cylinder of sticky rice,
simulating the texture of a good sushi roll. 533 W. Valley Blvd., San Gabriel,
(626) 570–0860. Breakfast, lunch and dinner seven days, 6 a.m.–6 p.m. Beer.
Lot parking. Cash only. Food for two, $5–$10. Chinese. JG ¢

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