Dignity Never Been Photographed 006
Scottsdale, 2024
Welcome back to Dignity Never Been Photographed, a series in which I discuss a meaningful photograph I’ve taken
I took this picture at Los Olivos Mexican Patio in Scottsdale, Arizona about this time last year.
This is a picture of my friend Ori. He’s one of my best friends, and has been for many years. He lives in Oakland and runs a conceptual food media zine/influencer operation called Radicchio Salad. This probably won’t be the last picture of him that appears here.
Ori and I were in Scottsdale for my friend Jordan’s bachelor party. Jordan is another one of my best friends, and has been for many years. He lives down the street from me in San Francisco, but he doesn’t run a conceptual food media zine/influencer operation, or any other type of influencer operation for that matter. Expect him to appear at some point, too.
We were in Scottsdale to attend MLB spring training, which was a lot of fun. As at my bachelor party, we shot guns, ate a tremendous amount of beef, and lost or won a little money (depending on who you were) playing table games. We didn’t patronize any strip clubs, but we did visit a coffee shop chain called “Bikini Beans Coffee,” where bikini-clad Arizona State students served bad coffee to men ogling them from the drive-thru. It was a truly detestable place.
A favorite of former Arizona Senator Barry Goldwater, Los Olivos is an institution in downtown Scottsdale—the oldest Mexican restaurant in town. It’s a classic TexMex joint: watery margaritas, endless chips and salsa, and big plates of wet, cheesy entrees, with plenty of rice and beans on the side. The type of restaurant I grew up in in Southern California; pure comfort food. The enchiladas I had tasted exactly like every other enchilada I’ve ever had, and I loved every bite.
I like this image because it captures Ori in his natural environment: at dinner, about to dig in to a meal he might later regret. I love the appearance of the nachos, which are covered in a ghostly white mélange—someone in the kitchen must have been a little trigger happy with the sour cream that night. They look equal parts appetizing and disgusting, an accurate representation of many plates you might see at a place like Los Olivos.
I also like the red carafe of salsa, the green plate, and the pink straws clustered in the bottom left of the image, and the way all these colors contrast with the blank grey wall behind Ori (dig that crack running vertically along the edge of the frame). I shot this image with a hot-shoe flash, which makes all the colors pop in hyperreal color. Ori’s facial expression is the cherry on top: eye closed, brows arched, just a moment too late for the shutter. I can hear his voice just looking at this image.
The best thing about this image is really that it was taken at dinner with friends, which is one of the great joys of life.
Bikini-clad women serving coffee is all over Little Saigon and surrounding areas in Orange County.
Los Olivos is definitely a classic. Next time you’re in Phoenix you’ve gotta check out Durant’s. Old school steakhouse, fully red interior (it doesn’t look like it’s changed since 1970), the staff are all ancient as hell and have worked there for decades. You’ll get a great steak and they have very stiff pours for their martinis. It’s a place that has zero pretensions about being trendy.