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Follow award-winning food writer Andrews and chef-proprietor Clark as they start at the latter’s Dad’s Luncheonette in Half Moon Bay and wind up in Ventura County, missing nary a delicious stop along the way.

They waved Mexican flags and Salvadoran and Venezuelan ones, with nary an Old Glory in sight.

Instead, the backing track squawked for a second and then dead air filled the room, with nary a patriotic chord to be heard.

The reporters were seated on the main stage and understood nary a word of his speech, although the Wall Street Journal guy faked it by writing stuff down.

“I haven’t even watched the trailer because I’m so upset that nary a self-tape request has come through the f— door,” she says.