Fish Tacos. A'ight, Kids. Gonna pause here to let the giggles die down.

There. I've stopped giggling.

Every time I hear Californians wax gastronomic about their beloved fish tacos, I grow more intrigued. So today for lunch, in hopes of drowning my sorrows over my favorite LA couple (Sarah Silverman and Jimmy Kimmel) breaking up (I know, right?), I had Pita Grill's take on the MexiCali sea wrap.

While I can't imagine the eight-store NYC chain's version in any way resembles authenticity, it was pretty damn tasty. Blackened tilapia with baby greens, pico de gallo, and "low-fat sour cream spread" on a wheat tortilla. I'd normally ask 'em to substitute some real, live full fat sour cream (mostly just 'cause I like saying 'full fat' to strangers) but every reference to sour cream on the menu includes the dreaded 'low fat' and 'spread' tags, so I didn't bother.

The filling-to-tortilla ratio left a lot to be desired, but the ample flavor of the fish made up for the meagerness of the dollop. The pico de gallo was a wimpy (as was warned), and the tortilla was not at all oily. Sad face. But still, flavorful and satisfying. And I needn't have been concerned about the Barbie Doll sour cream, as the schmear was undetectable to the human eye.

Came with a side of grilled Mexican corn on the cob "rubbed with canola mayonnaise, sprinkled with Ancho chili pepper and queso anejo." Fish tacos and a cob being rubbed, all on one plate? The schoolyard joke potential here is off the charts. Regardless, the corn made me cut loose o' some sexytime noises. Just now caught myself making them again, thinking about it.

When I saw the banana cake I'd ordered, I assumed they'd brought me the wrong thing. Where's the yellow? This is America, goddammit. Banana flavored things should be died bright yellow to identify them as banana flavored things. Right? But the dark, moist, nutty-raisiny bar topped high with what felt like butter cream frosting was indeed banana from tip to tail, and despite the non-nuclear hues, I again made with the porn grunties.

I'll continue my search for a real fish taco, but in the meantime, this'n's good enough to recommend. Especially if you don't know what a real one tastes like.