A <i> Comida </i> Amid Chaos Offers Best of Burritos : Mexican Food Lovers Flock to Barrio for Dish Named After a Police Station

A Denver woman wanted to give her boyfriend, a connoisseur of Mexican food, a treat for his birthday last year. She flew the two of them to Los Angeles for a burrito.

But it wasn’t for just any burrito. It had to be the machaca burrito served at the El Tepeyac Cafe in Boyle Heights on the city’s Eastside.

The boyfriend, pronouncing the burrito a culinary treasure, talked his benefactor into another birthday gift: Ten burritos to go. “They had to catch the plane back to Denver,” said Elena Rojas, daughter of El Tepeyac owner Manuel Rojas.

For many aficionados of “la comida Mexicana “ in Los Angeles and points beyond, El Tepeyac is more than just the name of the hill in central Mexico where it is said that the Virgin of Guadalupe appeared to an Indian boy twice in 1531. It’s also the home of the best Mexican food in town.

In the almost 30 years since it opened, the tiny 10-table restaurant has become an institution in a quiet barrio neighborhood dominated by a Roman Catholic church across the street and an aging elementary school attended by some Rojas family members and some of El Tepeyac’s most loyal customers.

Diners from all over Southern California routinely stand in line outside the small cafe on Evergreen Avenue for as long as 45 minutes for a table.

The most popular item on the menu is the house speciality--the Hollenbeck burrito, a huge mass of roast beef, rice, beans, avocado, lettuce and diced tomatoes stuffed into a flour tortilla and smothered in a spicy chili.

Cafe owner Manuel Rojas and his daughter, Elena, figure that nearly 10 million of the burritos are served each year.

El Tepeyac regulars take the Hollenbeck seriously. Said Armando Smith of Norwalk:

“I won’t eat all day before I come over here for a Hollenbeck. You can’t eat a Hollenbeck in 10 minutes. Food like that must be savored, no?”

The Hollenbeck was created by hungry Los Angeles police officers who frequented the newly opened restaurant almost three decades ago.

According to veteran officers of the Hollenbeck Division, which patrols the city’s Eastside, cops would “Code 7,” or take their meal break, at El Tepeyac after it was converted into a cafe from a deli-grocery store and would ask Rojas for a strange concoction of a burrito.

“The guys would ask for this burrito and ask Manuel to throw in rice and avocado,” recalled Assistant Police Chief Robert Vernon, who worked out of the division in the late 1950s. “Guys kept asking to add stuff to it. The thing was bigger than any burrito I ever saw.”

The item--originally selling for 50 cents--became so popular among the officers that it was named after the division.

Since that time, the Hollenbeck, which now goes for $3.15, has proven to be a formidable obstacle for many a chow hound:

- A cafe regular, known as Dave, won’t touch a Hollenbeck unless he drowns it in Tabasco sauce, which he takes with him on each visit. “It’s just not hot enough without it,” he said.

- A recent first-time visitor from Malibu, a petite lawyer in her 20s, finished off two in less than 35 minutes last year. “Piece of cake,” she sniffed.

- A New York stockbroker, assured by a friend that the Hollenbeck was worth it, waited in the rain on his first visit. “Damn rainwater,” he reported. “I was almost done with my second before I could taste the avocado.”

The stucco cafe, which also has a small counter and some benches outdoors for dining, reflects the style of the hard-working Rojas family, which operates the restaurant.

The cafe’s interior is devoid of expensive furnishings. The tables and chairs appear to be second-hand. Besides several panels of mirrors, the only fixtures on the walls are family photos.

Portraits ranging from founder Manuel Rojas and his siblings to daughter Elena and her two children are prominently displayed over the kitchen counter.

Above the pay phone, illuminated by a string of Christmas lights, is a picture of Our Lady of Guadalupe, the patron saint of Mexico.

The cafe’s ambiance is strictly chaos. Cafe workers can be heard shouting over the continual din: “Dos Hollenbecks! Dos leches . . . !”

Despite its Spartan appearance, El Tepeyac has attracted such a loyal following that regulars think nothing of driving from Orange County or the San Fernando Valley at the mere mention of a Hollenbeck.

Santa Barbara firefighter Eddie Foster, who used to live in nearby City Terrace, said he always visits the cafe when he’s in town. “The food is just good. I never tire of it. I don’t know why.”

One couple from Simi Valley make a weekly 60-mile round trip just to have a Hollenbeck or two . . . or three. “I’d come more often but my wife says we gotta save gas,” the husband said.

One of El Tepeyac’s unwritten rules is that everybody must wait their turn in the ever-present line for a table.

“Hey man, this actor tried to get by me,” groused Joey Montes from Santa Fe Springs. “And I told him, ‘Hey man, everybody’s got to wait in line.’ ”

Couldn’t Ask for Autograph

Later, inside, Montes said he couldn’t bring himself to ask the actor, a regular on a current ABC-TV series, for an autograph. “Hey man, I couldn’t bother him,” he said. “The dude was eating a Hollenbeck!”

Cafe regulars, as well as the owners, cite varying reasons for El Tepeyac’s popularity.

Many like the family atmosphere at the taqueria (taco shop), a far cry from the bars and Anglicized food of some Mexican-food restaurant chains in Southern California.

It comes as a surprise to many that no alcohol is served in the cafe.

“If we had liquor, I’d probably drink the profits,” Rojas deadpanned.

The policy against liquor, family members said, is as much because of their wish to guard against troublemakers as it is their desire not to offend the church. Assumption Roman Catholic Church is across the street.

Perhaps more surprisingly, diet sodas also are taboo at El Tepeyac. Inquiries as to why are met with shrugs.

At one time, the cafe remained open until 3 a.m. on weekends. But the crush of early morning diners, some of them tipsy party-goers in search of food to sober up, tied up traffic and created too much noise for the tiny cafe and the community to handle.

Closing Time Changed

The weekend closing time was changed to 11 p.m. several years ago, Elena Rojas said.

Some regulars see El Tepeyac as more than just a restaurant. They view it as a magnet drawing outsiders to an area they might not otherwise visit.

“People look at me funny when I suggest that we go eat in East L.A.,” said Jim Ertle, an executive with Westinghouse Beverage Group in Vernon. “I don’t feel uncomfortable going there, despite the negative things that you hear about the area.”

But other, more familiar, perceptions persist.

For example, Elena Rojas said, some prospective customers do call and ask, “ ‘Can you make sure that my car won’t be stolen?’ ”

But the drawing card for the cafe, according to all, is the food, especially the hefty Hollenbeck burrito. But for those who can’t take its spicy chili, the Okie--just as big but with less octane--was created.

And for those who want an even bigger challenge, there is the three-pound Manuel’s Special, about twice the size of the Hollenbeck. The gasps are audible when a waitress serves a $6.50 Manuel’s Special.

Birth to a Legend

The huge burrito also started one of El Tepeyac’s enduring legends: Years ago, Rojas offered to serve a second Manuel’s Special free to any diner who could finish the first one in 30 minutes. The offer was dropped after a few months, but people still ask about it.

For those who don’t fancy burritos, there are other Sonoran-style favorites on the menu, among them tacos, enchiladas and machaca (shredded beef and scrambled eggs).

El Tepeyac’s popularity leads to questions about expansion, Rojas family members say.

Although plans are under way for a drive-through restaurant--jokingly dubbed “Manuel-in-the-Box”--the family has resisted suggestions for longer hours, more dining room space, liquor--and for more El Tepeyacs.

“People always ask, ‘Why don’t you expand?’ or “Why not do this or that?’ ” said Elena Rojas.

“This isn’t the most delicate place to eat. But it wouldn’t be the same, would it?”