Amid the luxurious outside setting of 106 Seafood Underground, Sergio Peñuelas stands entrance and middle in a semi-open-air kitchen housed in a small construction close to the restaurant’s entrance. He strikes between a small counter and the range, sculpting pyramids of ceviche one minute after which tossing shrimp in garlicky butter the following.
He leaves solely to attend the charcoal-fueled grill just a few ft outdoors the kitchen to arrange the restaurant’s vacation spot dish, pescado zarandeado.
Peñuelas makes use of róbalo — a pearly, firm-fleshed fish also called snook and caught in Pacific waters — splayed earlier than cooking in order that it resembles a bifurcated reflection of itself. He brushes over a mix of mayonnaise, spices and sauces. The swirl turns pinkish-orange however seeps down invisibly after the fish lands on the grill, secured in a wire basket.
Repetition and instinct information his timing. When completed, the snook’s floor seems to be not not like a handsomely charred T-bone, scored and singed and blackened in all the precise locations.
Pescado zarandeado from chef Sergio Peñuelas at 106 Seafood Underground.
(Mariah Tauger / Los Angeles Instances)
Earlier than a server rushes the fish to the desk, Peñuelas slides it onto an oval platter large enough for a vacation turkey. He provides garnishes of sliced cucumbers and tomatoes and likewise a potent handful of caramelized onions which might be stained coppery purple from what tastes like Maggi seasoning strengthened with an additional glug of soy sauce.
Pescado zarandeado is an ecosystem of tastes and textures: jagged, smooth, candy and smoky, with hidden, meat-filled gullies that demand excavation. Amongst teams of households, I discover ladies who carry the air of matriarchs are sometimes bestowed the prized head, its sockets brimming with the richest morsels.
After I’m sated with the fish’s main vary of flavors, I attain for tortillas and begin constructing tacos.
Angelenos already intimate with the delights of pescado zarandeado would possibly know the Nayarit, Mexico, specialty greatest from Coni’Seafood in Inglewood. Peñuelas, a local of coastal Sinaloa, labored on the restaurant within the late Nineties and 2000s alongside proprietor Vicente “Chente” Cossio. The restaurant was then often known as Mariscos Chente; the identify modified in 2011 as his daughter, Connie Cossio, took possession and carried on the menu of ceviches, seafood tacos and myriad sauteed shrimp dishes.
Chef-owner Sergio Peñuelas of 106 Seafood Underground.
(Mariah Tauger / Los Angeles Instances)
Peñuelas’ virtuosity with grilling fish earned him the nickname “Snook Whisperer” amongst Los Angeles meals obsessives. In 2017 Jonathan Gold tracked his influence throughout the metro space because the chef moved from kitchen to kitchen (together with at one level a return to Coni’Seafood). In 2019, Peñuelas stopped wandering: He arrange an under-the-radar restaurant within the yard of his house within the Lennox part of Inglewood.
Three years in, 106 Seafood Underground is not something close to a secret. Google lists the handle. You might have to scour a number of close by blocks to discover a parking spot. You’ll know you’ve wandered up the precise driveway if you see the handwritten signal that claims, “No outdoors alcohol/no se permite traer alcohol. Thanks.” It speaks to the evolution of the enterprise — and to the loyalty of Peñuelas’ regulars who’ve been turning up because the restaurant’s extra extemporaneous beginnings.
Snook on the grill at 106 Seafood Underground.
(Mariah Tauger / Los Angeles Instances)
Marinero ceviche and camarones borrachos from 106 Seafood Underground.
(Mariah Tauger / Los Angeles Instances)
I swung by in early 2020 on a day that 106 was marketed as open however ended up being closed. (It occurs sometimes, significantly on weekdays; regulate the restaurant’s Instagram account.) The transformation of the area within the merciless two years since then calls forth a phrase I hardly ever use as a author: magical.
The picket slats that line the outside kitchen, as soon as painted black, now brighten the environment with beachy stripes of purple, orange, inexperienced and blue. Between nature and nurture, the foliage has thickened overhead and across the yard’s perimeter. Artificial turf covers a part of the bottom; the remaining is tiled patio or dust. It’s the sort of verdant scene through which you’re tempted to discover a smartphone app that can assist you identify all of the crops. Many of the tables take cowl underneath umbrellas, timber or a tarp.
Even on weekends when folks occupy each seat, that is a spot to breathe and retreat from the world.
Diners who know the menu at Coni’Seafood will acknowledge the gist of many dishes. Diced mango, as precise in kind as a collection of pixels, covers a mound of shrimp ceviche additionally dotted with chopped cucumber and tomato. The heap rumbles with lemon and Worcestershire sauce. Peñuelas additionally crafts a novel ceviche scattered with inexperienced apple; its tart marinade, blaring lime, is especially refreshing on a heat afternoon.
Most of the shrimp-based creations include the creatures’ bodily shells eliminated however their heads intact. Reaching antennae and beady eyes stick out in a military-straight line from aquachile; they’ve been set alongside the sting of an oblong plate, bathing in a shimmering, sharply acidic pool of citrus and inexperienced chile. They stare at each other in a wild, garlicky jumble flamed in tequila — the deservedly much-loved borrachos — or sauteed with aggressive quantities of coarse black pepper and lemon. For those who want the absolutely peeled choices, search for shrimp in creamy chipotle sauce or stuffed in tacos tossed in dialed-back sizzling sauce.
A colourful marlin on a wall at 106 Seafood Underground, left, and the restaurant’s marlin tacos.
(Mariah Tauger / Los Angeles Instances)
Contained in the kitchen at 106 Seafood Underground.
(Mariah Tauger / Los Angeles Instances)
I extra want the tacos full of flaked items of smoked marlin, their flour tortillas crisped and sealed with stretchy white cheese. In case your desk of three or 4 is ordering a ceviche or two, borrachos, some marlin tacos and the pescado zarandeado, that may already be an excessive amount of meals. That is in all probability a great place to say that the restaurant doesn’t record costs on its menu. The final time I ordered the large snook it was $50, which felt greater than honest. Servers readily discipline any associated questions.
For those who’re with a great crew, sipping a Pacifico straight or in a crimson michelada, you would possibly whereas away some hours till the fish is gone. You could possibly lace a snook taco with the final stray sliver of avocado plucked from a ceviche or experiment with what number of strands of salty caramelized onions are simply sufficient. You lookup and squint on the sunshine by the leaves of a ficus.
Proper then a roaring Delta jet streaks by the sky, descending for touchdown at LAX. It blots out each ounce of tranquility for just a few seconds, after which simply as shortly the calm returns.
Chef-owner Sergio Peñuelas surveys the scene and speaks to clients at 106 Seafood Underground.
(Mariah Tauger / Los Angeles Instances)
106 Seafood Underground
4302 W. 106th St., Inglewood, (310) 980-3893, instagram.com/checocheff
Costs (approximate): Ceviches and aquachiles $20, tacos $12, shrimp dishes $22, pescado zarandeado $50.
Particulars: Open 11 a.m.-6 p.m. Wednesday-Sunday. Beer. Avenue parking.
Beneficial dishes: pescado zarandeado, marinero ceviche, inexperienced apple ceviche, camarones borrachos, smoked marlin tacos.
