The post-race meal can be a tricky one. On the one hand, after finishing a long run, you’re willing and ready to eat anything caloric: steamed liver, curried beets (is there such a thing?), you name it – there’s a famished runner who’ll eat it. At the same time, someone who completes a marathon, a half marathon feels entitled to enjoy the best dang food of her lifetime and without a bit of guilt. It’s a time to indulge in the meal of one’s fantasies. It might be the most important meal of a girl’s life.
At least until her next race.
I’ve been fortunate enough to eat pretty damn well after each of the races run so far this year – a full and, with one this weekend, three half marathons. My choice this time ‘round following the Long Beach Half Marathon was Padre, a newer Long Beach spot recreating Latin classics.
The food was to be an important component of the afternoon, enjoyed with friends who both ran and came out for support. The real highlight, however, was an announcement to be made by my one and only Work Son, William – so ambience was key to the outing’s success.
At Padre, the scene set itself. Barren elegance. Smooth wood and plenty of light. Rustic So Cal touches. With the crew in place, William at the head of the table, it was the opportune moment to share his big secret.
Except he’s a procrastinator. And indecisive. So Work Mama had to take a little initiative, pushing him to open a gift expressly purchased for him and his girlfriend Molyka. What was it?
The essential pregnancy text for new parents – What to Expect When You’re Expecting. That’s right. My Work Son done cloned himself. He’s going to be a Padre.
We had a whole bit planned out – the two of us – where he was going to order Padre’s Dad’s Taco (skirt steak, queso fresco, cilantro), and I was going to say “You can’t order the Dad’s Taco – you ain’t no daddy!” to which he’d reply, “Oh yes I am,” and then whip out the long black and white sheet with ultrasonic evidence. (It sounded good when we rehearsed at work the week leading up to the race.)
But we arrived in time for brunch; and Padre’s brunch menu lacked the Dad’s Taco. Good thing I had a back up option with the book.
With the excitement and shock that Work Son’s announcement brought, it wouldn’t be surprising to learn that folks around the table had no idea what they’d ordered and supped on that day. I’d been told about William’s impending fatherhood a couple weeks before so I could help the couple with a photo shoot for their pregnancy announcement (which they never posted, so I had to create a few memes with the photos to keep our shoot from being a complete waste of time). Therefore, I’ve no issues with culinary recall.
Our shared Patatas Bravas get a brava, as they were tender and succulent, and shined when slathered with the creamy, slightly sweet sauce that bedded them. My Angelina French Toast proved satisfying, though I ended up sliding off most of the orange jam served on top to temper the sweetness a bit. I admit my disappointed at not following my instincts and ordering the Migas – chicken atop tortilla chips with scrambled eggs, cheese, and crema. Instead, I sampled a few exquisite bites of Kristina’s order, having to soothe my plate envy with several glasses of mimosa (which also aided with my post-race achiness).
I’m itching to return to Padre to test out their dinner menu. And a few of their cocktails, like the Padre Margarita or the Holy Sheet (noted as “the best gin and tonic you have never had”).
Padre certainly has staying power – its friendly and vibrant ambience and inventive cuisine keeping the East Village hot and happening. Very glad to have them in Long Beach. And even happier they were there to feed my post-race appetite and be the site of the most wonderful news of the year. Not sure if a there’ll ever be a post-race meal as exciting for me.
Padre in the LBC
525 E. Broadway
