The idea of putting together a Best of OC issue that would present separate guides to each city came to us five months ago. Since that time, we have compiled lists of cities, pored over those lists, discussed those lists, and assigned cities to writers from that list. When it came time to take pictures, we made another list. Then we made copies of all the lists, passed them out, checked them over, and checked off cities. Discussions grew from the lists: “Are we doing enough on Stanton?” “Aren't we laying it a bit too heavy on Santa Ana?” “Where can you get great falafel in Brea?” Every city was considered and reconsidered on photo run lists, story lists, and deadline lists that were gone over I can't tell you how many times in how many staff and private meetings.
I don't tell you this to pump up our staff or to make you feel sorry for us, even though the labor was intense and sustained. I tell you this now, here, in this space—NOW—because after five months of staring at lists, on the day of the issue's deadline, OC Weekly staffer Anthony Pignataro said this word at 4:16 p.m.:
“Tustin.”
And there was a great silence and much staring, followed by a great bugging of eyes and tortured giggles and wrenching of guts and that thing that happens to your pooper when you're going down a roller coaster. Because, at that moment, we all realized we'd forgotten Tustin.
Scurrying ensued, which produced the result you are now reading. As to the question of why we forgot Tustin, we apologize profusely, but in our defense, we believe this is the way the people of Tustin would have wanted it.
Tustin is a really nice place to live—folks from bordering Santa Ana and Orange have been known to lie and say they live in Tustin—where middle class is an entry-level position. It's the kind of place where nice people with nice jobs get nice homes, albeit homes very close to their neighbors' nice homes—locals joke that you can't look into your neighbors' back yard without kissing them. There is one big shopping center—the Tustin Marketplace—and lots of nice little places to eat. But Tustin folk aren't that interested in becoming a destination. It's enough that people gawk at the blimp hangars. Which explains why, in this prototypical bedroom community, you can find numerous signs protesting growth. Tustin doesn't want growth. Growth has not always been good to Tustin.
In the 1870s, Columbus Tustin, a northern California carriage maker, and his partner Nelson Stafford purchased 1,300 acres of land and created Tustin City. But sales of home sites were so slow that Columbus ended up giving free lots to anyone who would build a home.
By 1912, the town had grown to the point that the local elementary school could boast an eighth-grade graduating class of 20 students. All 20 flunked the county math exam but were allowed to graduate anyway. How far standards have fallen.
Just a few years later in 1969, the first recorded murder took place within the city limits. And just 12 years after that, Tustin had the second highest crime rate in the county, with one in 10 Tustinians victimized. Is it any wonder that the city would be wary of growth?
Tustin is just fine being Tustin. They don't want you to forget about that. Just about them.
TUSTIN GETS ALL OLD-TIMEY
Old Town Tustin. The terminally quaint, faintly beating heart of Columbus Tustin's carriage-making metropolis, now packed back-to-back with sweet little boutiques like the Ruffled Tulip Flower Shop, Flying Geese Fabrics and quality vegetarian eatery Rutabegorz. The Tustin Marketplace might offer style, but Old Town is all substance, if by substance you mean antiques and dried poinsettias. Main Street and El Camino Real.
TUSTIN SHOPS
Chavante Jewelers. Hidden behind a Spoons in a standard strip mall is this gem. Mary Swingle's original designs are breathtaking yet simple and classic—just like the lady herself. 13681 Newport Ave., Ste. 12, (714) 832-5770.House of Lamps. Mission style? Art Deco? Deconstructionist? If it's a lamp you're looking for, you need to be looking here. 2842 El Camino Real, (714) 505-4048.
TUSTIN GETS HAIRY
Salon Gallery. Almost five years ago, Thomas Penna and his wife opened a modern-looking salon, with art on the walls and art walking out every day on the heads of their clients. The usual trappings are here: manicurists, aestheticians, hair stylists (including the Weekly's favorite troika of Rosana, Melanie and Hein). But the real ace up its sleeve is Thomas himself, offering honesty and hospitality. 220 El Camino Real, Ste. 1, (714) 505-9367.
TUSTIN CONSUMES
Caffe Piemonte. Luigi Ravetto makes all of his ravioli by hand. His hard work is evident in the ravioli d'aragosta: pasta pillows plump with lobster and crab meat in a light tomato-cream sauce, topped with jumbo shrimp. If you've ever been to Ravetto's native Piemonte, welcome back. 498 E. First St., (714) 544-8072.Koki's Japanese Teppan House. You'll enjoy the granite-and-neon splendor of this teppan house, and I don't remember shrimp ever being as succulent or steak as tender. These dinners come with soup, salad and a shrimp appetizer. 1061 E. Main St., (714) 505-6738.Lingonberry Café. Their insane mealtime bargain includes not only food but also free baby-sitting! So hightail it upstairs for the manager's special: a godsend that includes a large portion of Swedish meatballs with creamy gravy and two steamed red potatoes. 2982 El Camino Real Blvd. (at Ikea), (714) 838-4000, ext. 325.Mangga Grill. The menu reflects the diversity of a 7,000-island archipelago heavily influenced by Chinese traders, 400 years of Spanish domination and a half-century of American occupation. Oh, and their honey-stung chicken with Manila rum sauce is amazing. 341 E. First St., (714) 730-1332.Pina's Bistro. From her earthy navy-bean soup to voluptuous Naples-style pizza with homemade fennel sausage, Pina Ercolamento, a native of Italy, puts Neapolitan pride into all of the creations in her tiny Tustin trattoria. 640 W. First St., (714) 730-5442.Zov's Bistro and Bakery. In his 1992 thriller Hideaway, Dean Koontz's main characters dine at Zov's on calamari and black-bean soup that was “such a perfect sensual experience that the monochromatic bistro seemed ablaze with color.” 17440 E. 17th St., (714) 838-8855.
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TUSTIN GETS DOWN
Tustin Tiller Days. In the old days—and by old days we mean the 1880s—Tustin had three churches, a hotel, a bank, and a horse-drawn “tallyho” trolley line that ran all the way to Santa Ana. And a lot of farms. Hundreds of acres of farms. Tustin Tiller Days recalls those halcyon days when men were men and dirt and horses were the city's mode of production. The festivities, usually the first weekend in October, include such agriculture-related fun as Irish rock bands, a Ferris wheel and pancake breakfasts. Columbus Tustin Park, the corner of Prospect Ave. and Irvine Blvd.
TUSTIN BLOWS UP
U.S. Navy Dirigible Hangars. Largest wooden structures in the U.S., not counting Keanu Reeves. Visiting these bygone relics of blimpier days (formerly the province of the U.S. Navy, located on the abandoned Marine Corps Air Station) constitutes trespassing, but a leisurely cruise up Redhill Avenue still provides a hell of a panorama. But the glory isn't quite gone: although zeppelins have yet to come back into style as America seeks non-Greyhound-related alternatives to air travel, slick Hollywood types see the hangars' potential—look for these local boys' most recent appearance in Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me. Tustin Marine Corps Air Station, the corner of Tustin and Redhill.
TUSTIN ÜBER ALLES
Ikea. Modern? Check. Efficient? Check. Cold, soulless and inhuman? Check, check and check! With a design aesthetic like this, it's no surprise that Ikea founder Ingvar Kamprad was once involved with Nazi-supporting rightists during the '40s—after all, Ikea doohickeys are just the thing to turn a smallish living room into real lebensraum! Of course, he's very sorry now (“It was the biggest disaster of my life,” he told British newsmen this year), so if you're the kind of person who appreciates an apology for the biggest crime against humanity (not counting Keanu Reeves), visit Orange County's only Ikea location and burrow into the volkstyle with a clearer conscience than ever. 2982 El Camino Real, (714) 838-4000.
TUSTIN STARTS A WAR
The fight over the Tustin Marine Corps Air Station. The old Tustin base covers 1,600 acres. The Santa Ana Unified School District and the Rancho Santiago Community College District, which actually has jurisdiction over part of the base, want 100 acres for a kindergarten-through-college campus. The Tustin City Council, which controls the base reuse process, wants to give the districts just 22 acres. Santa Ana accused Tustin of being racist. Tustin countered that Santa Ana is desperate and greedy. Now Sacramento's involved. It can only get worse from here. . . .
TUSTIN GETS SEEDY
Pickup basketball. In the mood for a good pickup game of basketball? Want to wager a little money on your skills? You know, just a friendly, under-the-table bet? Tustin's your place. Now, we're keeping the location of the courts out of deference to the locals who tipped us off, but Tustin's not a big city. Ask around. And make sure you work on that jump shot. Skratch magazine. Punk's not dead, but Skratch magazine will make you want to kill it: for 66 mostly monthly issues (which is about 66 too many), Scott Presant's semicoherent, unfunny, skate-boner jock-off advertorial rag strives mightily to beat independent music down to the lowest common denominator, without ever using words with as many syllables as “denominator.” The place you turn to find out where all your favorite boardshorts-and-beer-bellies bands will be making mall-punk a threat again. Any publicity's good publicity, though, right, guys? 17300 17th St., Ste. J, (714) 543-1411 or (714) 543-1414.The Swinging Door. The premier hole-in-the-well hooch joint in Tustin, with a sweet selection of swing on the jukebox and each bartender prettier than the last (verified by several objective sources, even). Everyone who's a local anyone (grizzled old blimp pilots, perhaps?) sops up beer around here, and even at 5:30 p.m. on a Friday, this place oozes boozy fun. 355 El Camino Real, (714) 730-9934.
Illustration by Bob Aul
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READER'S CHOICE
Hanson & Hanson Designer Shoe Outlet. The shoes are great, but that's not the reason this is my favorite shoe shop. My feelings stem from an incident that occurred in the store at the same time the OC Weekly ran the cover “IS JESUS GAY?” I was waiting to pay when the customer in front of me made a comment regarding the cover—”Ughh, I wouldn't even have that in my store. . . . Ughh . . . It's just not natural.” The cashier didn't say anything, and neither did I. It seemed pointless. When the lady left, the cashier, who turned out to be the owner, apologized for her last customer, and we both shrugged our shoulders. A few months later, I was walking into the store again when I noticed a small gay-pride-flag sticker on the door. The owner was there again, and I reminded her of the incident and thanked her for the flag. She beamed and said the flag helps to remind customers to leave their prejudices at the door. 13911 Carroll Way, Ste. C, (714) 730-6117. (Helen Berger, Tustin)
