“The Teenage Glutster introduced me to Pal Cabron in Huntington Park, the brash sandwich and clayuda shop owned by Bricia Lopez and brother Fernando in a bygone branch of their family’s Guelaguetza restaurant.

Yellow walls were painted with cartoonishly busty women, including La Mas Cabrona, La Gordis and La Chirris, plus local celebrities and some of Bricia’s friends.

Javier Cabral, The Glutster, made the wall of fame for discovering the restaurant. Prize-winning LA Weekly critic Jonathan Gold is right by his side in full caricature glory.

Pal Cabron’s horchata isn’t just any cup of horchata.

Javier said most restaurants use cow’s milk to make horchata since it’s a fast way to make the drink creamy, but Bricia takes the traditional route, which is starchier (and turns pink when you mix it), including pure rice milk, crumbled pecans, tuna (cactus flower) syrup and sweet chunks of cantaloupe. It’s a colorful drink with the kinds of layered textures and flavors that you won’t find from a Bang! machine.

One of Pal Cabron’s specialties is the cemita, a style of sandwich made famous in Puebla, Mexico.

All rolls are baked in-house and Bricia even sent her baker to Puebla to train. This version was sesame studded, grilled and chewy, but more than held up to the prodigious fillings. Standard stuffings include uncooked onions, fresh-cut avocado, mild slabs of Mexican cheese (queso fresco panela), smoky chipotle sauce (or jalapeno) and pungent papalo leaves, which are called “summer cilantro” on the menu and are known for their ammonia-like intensity. Bricia also includes quesillo, a mozzarella-like string cheese from Oaxaca. La De Barbacha ($5.95) was an absolute behemoth. We could have easily split the sandwich and nothing else and called it a day. The thick slices of Barbacoa de Borrego Enchilado – seasoned lamb – were a little overcooked, but added to the overall effect. The sandwich was good, but could have been even better with a softer bun and fewer fillings.

Lesser clayuda specialists grill giant corn tortillas, top with black bean paste, cheese, lettuce and serve them open-faced, usually with some kind of grilled meat, and maybe fresh radishes for crunch. Bricia doesn’t stop there.

Pal Cabron’s cooks slather flour tortillas with asiento (aka lard) and lay on quesillo, giving these clayudas an unfair flavor advantage, but also making the creation incredibly heavy.

Clayudas cost $5.95 and $1.25 per extra ingredient. I opted to add grilled thin-sliced tasajo (beef) and cecina enchilada (marinated pork), plus an evenly distributed crumble of chorizo (pork sausage) that melded with the bean paste.

Next came the step that took Pal Cabron’s clayuda to another level. The cook folded over the tortilla, forming a massive crisp-shelled quesadilla. The cheese melted and the black bean-chorizo-lard spread became molten. The grilled meat, crisp lettuce and a liberal dousing of salsa roja completed the powerful flavor profile.

Even with The Glutster – a true trencherman – sitting across from me, we could only finish about half the food. It was a ridiculous feast, and ridiculously heavy. If you drive to Huntington Park, bring at least three people, split two sandwiches, max, and don’t load your clayuda with three different meats.