It started as a dream.
No, really—I dreamed that I was at a taqueria with my roommate, attempting (but pretty much failing) to order a burrito in Spanish. I wanted a chicken burrito with a lime on the side, and I couldn’t for the life of me remember the Spanish word for “lime” (which as it turns out is “lima”—duh, subconscious me). I never got my dream burrito, so I woke up quite sad.
I slunk along through the following day, a shell of myself, wishing with all my heart that I would have gotten through my burrito order in the previous night’s dream. Afternoon rolled around, meaning it was time for me to select an Eats adventure—and so, naturally, burritos came to mind. But I wasn’t feeling the taqueria vibe. I wanted something a little funkier.
After some Yelp scours and coworker input, I made the trek to Los Alamos, where I swung onto Bell Street and pulled up in front of Charlie’s. It’s an old, rickety joint—one that has stood fast in Los Alamos for more than four decades, even among the wave of hip, trendy dining options that have popped up all over Bell Street in recent years. Its menu is classic and straightforward. The establishment is unpretentious, free of unnecessary burlap and any bandwagon attempt to become a tasting room. It’s just Charlie’s.
At first glance, the restaurant struck me as a take-out place. It sports a to-go order window out front, behind a sturdy hitching-post-style fence, in case you decide to ride in on your pony. And honestly, if you did, you wouldn’t even look that weird—Charlie’s masters the Wild West vibe, complete with rodeo-themed art.
I showed up around 4 p.m. on a Wednesday, so there wasn’t much foot traffic yet. When I finally found the front door (it’s either very inconspicuous or I’m very unobservant, or both) and stepped inside, I was met with the most heavenly barbecue scent I’ve ever known. But I couldn’t justify taking a seat indoors on such a gorgeous day, so when my waitress greeted me, I asked to be seated in the back corner of the patio.
Charlie’s patio was my favorite part of the whole dining experience. It was sunny and warm, with plenty of shaded tables available. A large fountain and koi pond sit against the patio’s back fence, sharing with customers a sort of babbling brook soundtrack to accompany their meals. String lights line the fence border, and finches play in the shrubbery above the fence. It’s the perfect place to take yourself out to a late lunch, as I did, and linger with a good book post-meal.
Now, I knew what I wanted to order when I picked Charlie’s, but I got caught up in the menu there anyway: It was an extensive offering of both American and Mexican cuisine, with a plethora of burger and burrito selections along with tri-tip, wings, salads, and seafood options. This was the only point at which I wished I’d brought a friend with me, so we could order different things and try each other’s meals, but I had to pick one.
I wound up ordering the “small super burrito,” whose name made me laugh almost as hard as its massive size did. It spanned my whole plate and contained beans, rice, chile verde, and cheese wrapped in a tortilla and topped with generous helpings of sour cream and guacamole. It was definitely a fork-and-knife kind of burrito, which was exactly what I wanted, and I only made it like halfway through the thing before I started to hate myself. For $8, it was an incredible deal. I can only imagine what the actual “super burrito” is like.
Charlie’s is by no means a new addition to Bell Street, and that’s exactly why I feel it deserves attention. It’s got that rustic, Santa Ynez Valley, at-home feel down pat—and not because it’s trying really hard to, but because that’s just naturally how it is. Plus: The price is right, the food is delicious, and the service is friendly. What more could you want?
Brenna Swanston really needs to brush up on her Spanish. Send your favorite Spanish vocabulary words to bswanston@santamariasun.com.
This article appears in Nov 10-17, 2016.
