Spanish for "The Coyote", El Coyote is one of those Mexican restaurants who brags about it's multi-decade tenure in Los Angeles.I think El Coyote (along with senior citizen's underwear) teaches all of us a valuable lesson in that just because it's been around, doesn't make it delicious. Word to the wise, these were terrible eats here, people. I don't even think a real coyote would eat here, and they mostly eat the rotting flesh of sun-baked carcasses.
My friend Erin and I ended up here after we committed ourselves to an afternoon of hardcore weekday drinking. The LA summer sun was blistering overhead and even though we wanted a patio-adorned perch, we decided to go here instead. It had a covered patio and apparently it was a "can't-miss" LA hotspot. Both these things are very important to me.
I wanted to eat light because South Africa had made pretty fat. And Erin wasn't really planning on eating at all, the strategic drinker she is. She ordered a Mojito, and I got the Cadillac Margarita and green chile tamales a la carte.
The free chips they brought us were ample, and they provided two types of salsas, so they got some bonus points for that. Those 2 or 3 bonus points were irrefutably annihilated from existence, though, when the food and drinks came out.
Erin's "Mojito" was nuclear green. it literally looked like if she spilled it onto a turtle it would transform into a crime fighting ninja. The listed ingredients of said Mojito never included Slimer from Ghostbusters. And the look on her face at first sip resembled the same one someone makes when they witness a cat with diarrhea being swung around by it's tail. She let me try it and I don't think I've EVER tried anything that sugary, and I once ate a heaping bowl of sugar.
My Margarita wasn't as bad but it certainly wouldn't be taking home the blue ribbon. It was terribly mixed, far too much tequila to the point where I had to wait a couple minutes for some ice to melt to make it drinkable. My green chile tamales were about 94% corn meal, with a ravioli sized chile in the middle with unmelted cheese in it. Unmelted CUBED cheese...gnar.
Erin had enough of her terrible Mojito and got up and asked some people across the restaurant if their drinks were any good. She returned to say that the woman across the way LOVES her Raspberry Margarita. Erin promptly returned her nearly full drink and ordered one of those. When it arrived and she tried it, she didn't give the cat-with-diarrhea face, but it was more of a look-a-kid-gets-when-they-first-find-out-Santa-doesn't-exist face. Half confusion, half distress. We made that our last/only drink there and quickly left to find greener drinking pastures.
Now, I find both Erin and I to be relatively discerning with food, but also pretty accepting of mediocrity. But this place was terrible. And it brought into question the good judgement of not only the 50+ patrons in the place, of of LA foodies in general. How the hell could these idiots really be enjoying food this bad? I guess everyone in LA actually IS a gutless, trend-suckling sheep...I'm shocked!!
Name: El Coyote
What You'll Need to Enjoy Your Meal: IQ below 40.
Rating: 0 / 5