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I wasn't kidding when I told you I'd be eating packaged noodles this week to recover from the overpriced meal I had at Via Veneto.
Some of you may already know that I'm partial to the Nong Shim brand of Korean packaged noodles. Their chajang-myun are a quick, easy (but sodium and calorie packed) meal, made even better with a little kimchee on the side. Another Nong Shim favorite of mine is their Neoguri Spicy Seafood Flavored Udon. I met this "friend" back in college (everyone's best instant noodle days!) and I've been a fan ever since. Like those in the chajung-myun, the noodles in these spicy seafood noodles are the thicker variety making for a more substantial meal. The spicy, red peppery soup base is sinus-clearing; the dried "seafood" package contains bits of dried mystery seafood whose identity I don't know of to this day as well as small dried squares of seaweed that make the meal much more interesting. All for about three minutes of cooking time and oh, fifty cents or so. My finances (but probably not my health) will be back on track in no time!
Rice, noodles, dumplings, stuffed leaf-wrapped thingamaboppies, pizza...all foods we have in common amongst our diverse cultures, things that prove that we are all different yet the same. Our friend the sandwich is no exception. All it is, you might think, is a couple of slices of meat and maybe some cheese between two pieces of bread. But add a few ethnic touches and once again, we have something else that both ties us together and makes us uniquely diverse.
We all know about the Vietnamese bahn mi, probably one of my favorite sandwiches of all time. I also have a weakness for Austrian schnitzel sandwiches. And how about the infamous Italian sub? Hell, San Diego food blogger extraordinaire Kirk even made a Korean inspired bulgogi sandwich the other day. Today, I decided to take my international sandwich tour to Mexico, where I discovered the torta, the newest delicious addition to my sandwiches of the world list.
Tortas Mexico in Studio City was our destination. It's a little mini-mall hole in the wall on a popular stretch of Ventura Blvd that's surrounded by a slew of various ethnic establishments-- Irish, Thai, English, Indian, you name it--which makes the embracing of so many different cultures that much easier!
At Tortas Mexico, you can have your more mainstream Mexican fare like tacos, burritos, enchiladas, and quesadillas. But with a name that has the word tortas in it, why would you want to? (Well, at least for the first visit!) For my maiden voyage here, I chose a carne asada torta--chunks of perfectly charbroiled steak layered with beans, mayonnaise, lettuce, tomato, jalapeños, and avocado all on a fluffy round bun. I loved the contrast between the "heavier stuff" like the smoky, charbroiled meat and the thin layer of rich beans with the "refreshing stuff": cool avocado and tomato and crisp shredded lettuce. On the side were a handful of tortilla chips to dip in one or more of the various salsas at Tortas Mexico's salsa bar: a spicy and smoky roasted tomato and chile salsa, a zippy tomatillo salsa or a standard yet good pico de gallo. The restaurant serves tortas with a variety of other meats like carnitas (which my friend loved as well), al pastor, chorizo, pollo, lengua, bean & cheese, a hawaiian combo which is ham, panela & pineapple, a cuban combo which is ham, pork, & cheese, and breaded steak (milanesa).
Watch out bahn mi and schnitzel sandwich, you've got competition!
Stuff for those chips
Because our eyes were bigger than our stomachs, the three of us also ordered a plate of nachos not knowing that these sandwiches are huge. But hell, as expected, the nachos were way better than some of the other ones we've had at bar and grill type establishments recently. Good amounts of velvety refried beans, cool but buttery guacamole, refreshing pico de gallo, and cheese were distributed evenly amongst a pile of crisp tortilla chips. It did not seem like it was tossed together without care and thrown into a microwave...these were quality nachos!
Na' cho average nachos!
All this food made me unable to eat the whole torta, allowing me to take the other half out with me in a doggie bag. Let me tell you, those leftovers were so good 'cause all the flavors had kind of melded together giving Tortas Mexico the Daily Gluttony Seal of Approval. I will have to go back tomorrow. Damn, I can see a case of FOCD already!
Tortas Mexico
11040 Ventura Blvd.
Studio City, CA 91604
(818) 760-2571
I don't know if it's because of my upbringing by frugal Chinese parents or if it's something else, but I'll be the first to admit that I'm straight up ghetto. No, I don't mean that have ultra-long acrylic fingernails with gems on them or that I line my lips with lipliner a few shades darker than my lip color or that I drive a souped-up and lowered Honda Civic. On the outside, I seem very much like a refined person. I like to think that I dress pretty nicely and that I have pretty good taste in "things." But on the inside, oooh watch out. I'm loud, I'm cheap and I don't care. (But I do have tact--does that count?)
It doesn't mean that I don't enjoy some of the finer things in life like say, nice dinners and good food. Don't trip though, my frugal and ghetto ass will somehow shine through. So on one hand I was thrilled when my friends chose Santa Monica's Via Veneto for a Girl's Night Out; on the other, I knew this place would cost me as much as double what I normally pay for a meal and that because of that, I had to get the upper hand.
First things first, I did not valet. Nope, Pam finds street parking and walks to her destination when at all possible, which I will admit is nearly impossible in certain neighborhoods like West Hollywood, but on Main Street in Santa Monica??? P'shaw, piece of cake even if it did mean circling the block a few times. I found a meter a short half-block away which cost me only about a buck in coins. (Parking's enforced 'til 10pm you know) So much better than the several bucks I would have had to dish out to have some stranger park my car.
Small and slim but sultry, Via Veneto's space appeals more to my external refined side. It's a narrow but lofty room with soaring ceilings and walls finished with that yellow-ochre effect that just seems to pick up candlelight beautifully. Its tables are arranged closely but cozily giving the restaurant's atmosphere even more warmth and energy. An added bonus: Via Veneto's owner is Warren Cuccurullo of 90's decade Duran Duran fame. Not that I cared so much about the band at the time, but hey, anyone that worked that closely with my childhood heartthrobs--that is, the original five members of the eighties--is pretty cool in my book.
Cuccurullo's eatery was packed for a weekday night making the seating arrangements extra cozy. But my girls and I were lucky enough to score a table located in one of the restaurant's front bay windows which gave us a little more privacy while also allowing us to partake in the restaurant's energetic vibe. Our waiter kind of had this skinny, pointy goatee thing going and looked like he could have been a bard transported in from the 17th century. In either a real live Italian accent or just a really good fake one, he asked us "Would you ladies like flat or sparkling water tonight?" To which I responded, "Just regular water please." Immediately, you could see the "Oh, so you're gonna be one of those kinds of tables" look on his face. "You mean tap water???" he asked. "Yup," I replied, and away he went. I'm not going to fall for that trick, bucko. You think you can charge me over five bucks for a fancy bottle of water? I don't think so.
If I got sticker shock from Via Veneto's menu prices, I can only imagine what kind of heart attack my parents would have gotten. I perused their simple Northern Italian menu for a bit--pasta e fagioli soup for 10 bucks, risottos for just under 30, meat dishes for just under 40--when Italian bard waiter guy (we'll call him Sir Waiter from now on) came back to recite the night's specials. It was about a 4 minute recital, done with hardly a breath and perfectly detailed, but so long that I could only pick up things about langostini and filet mignon and truffles here and there; we were convinced that our waiter had to be an actor of some sort, if not now then for sure in a previous life, like say, in Elizabethan times? And oh, by the way, I didn't even wanna know how much those specials cost, so I stuck to ordering off the regular menu.
See, I'm not lying!
But wait, I'm not done. Check this out OK? Thirty-eight dollars for a HALF bottle of chianti. "Wait, what was that?" you say. You heard me. Thirty-eight dollars for a half bottle of chianti. (I could hear my parents already: "Ai-yaaaaah!!!") No Girls Night Out is complete without alcohol of some sort, so three out of five of us opted to split a bottle of wine. "Here, you pick," my friend told me as she handed me the wine list. "An Italian red wine would be nice to go with our tomato based ragus," I thought to myself, "Hmm, maybe a Brunnelo or...WHAT THE FUCK??? 98 dollars???? 105 dollars??? Dammit, I work hard for my money and I ain't spending it on a bottle of outrageously marked-up wine. Fuck THAT." I finally found a half bottle of a 1995 chianti for under 40, which may have been more expensive per liter, but considering that I was limiting myself to one glass anyways, this was the best option. I think our decision frustrated Sir Waiter even more.
He came back shortly with our pop-bottle, oops, I mean our teeny little half-bottle of thirty eight dollar chianti and presented it to us in sommelier fashion. "Uh, 'kay," I chuckled and all my girls giggled in a similar fashion. I could tell he really, really hated us as he opened the itty bitty bottle and poured for me to taste. What the hell did he expect? Should I have said, "Oh, that bottle looks simply divine!" in my best yacht voice? Anyways, I took my first sniff and sip. "Great," I told him, as he filled three of our large stems only about a quarter full. At least our medium bodied, slightly-acidic-for-good-food-pairing chianti, whose maker I cannot recall but was exceptionally smooth, was good. But hell, it better have been for thirty eight bucks.
We whet our appetite with a couple of free things--rosemary bread, olive oil, and green olives--and a couple of things that were not. For appetizers, we chose an ahi tuna tartare and a grilled calamari dish for which we got a "perfetto" and an "okey-dokey" hand signal from Sir Waiter upon ordering. Was it because he was surprised and pleased that we actually ordered something in addition to our entrees? Or was it because we were a table of Asian girls and both appetizer dishes tasted, well, Asian??? That I kind of expected from the tuna tartare which obviously reminded me of spicy tuna without so much spice. The ahi was fresh, or at least from what I could tell after all the lemon and finely chopped scallion seasonings were added. Two slices of buttered and grilled country bread provided for an Italian touch, whereas I'm normally more used to the Asian version--crispy rice cakes--to go with my tuna. If there's anything I can detect, it's the taste and smell of Chinese food, and that's exactly what I tasted of our grilled calamari appetizer. Here, small but tender pieces of calamari were grilled with diced tomatoes, onions, bell peppers and basil. A skewer of plump shrimp and meaty scallops sat off to the side. I could be wrong and probably am, but I tasted oil, soy sauce and white pepper, making the dish, therefore, taste Chinese. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying it was bad; in fact, it was delicious, it's just that I could have gotten something similar at Sam Woo for under 7 bucks.
These are free!
Did my peeps make this?
More Asian persuasion
Simple and hearty, my entree of fettuccine bolognese was my favorite dish of the evening. And the best value, too, at 16 dollars. The fettuccine was cooked perfectly al dente, giving with a slight snap at the touch of the teeth. Its thick meat sauce was hearty without being overbearing making this dish the perfect comfort food. And even better, it went perfectly with our thirty eight dollar half-chianti!
The best dish of the evening!
My friends' entrees were also very delicious. Again, the pastas were cooked to the perfect al dente texture. One of the girls is partial to Via Veneto's penne arrabiata and orders it each time she comes here. It's got that good kind of spiciness that is controlled--a spiciness that lets the flavors of the sauce some through first and then kind of creeps up on you at the end as if somehow timed. It was a little less smoky and garlicky than the arrabiata sauce that I make at home, but was nevertheless delicious. My other friend's ravioli al pomodoro were perfect little al dente pillows filled with spinach and ricotta in a tomato based sauce. Its filling had that nice cheesy saltiness perfected by the texture of spinach, and was not at all dry and bland like many ricotta fillings can be. At 42 dollars, I don't think my friend's grilled langostini entree was worth it, but the those spidery looking crustaceans sure were tasty. Grilled with sea salt and black pepper, the dish was a simple reminder that things out of the sea are a good thing! It prolly also made our waiter very happy that we actually ordered a pricy dish. Fucker.
With prices like this, no wonder it's angry!
Perfect little spinach and cheese pillows
Wanna buy me for 42 bucks?
It was a good thing that we skipped dessert because I could already feel my wallet getting lighter. The damage after tax and tip: $215 for five of us which included a HALF bottle of chianti, two appetizers, and five entrees, four of which were simple pasta dishes. Not much bang for our buck, I'll say. For dinner tomorrow? Instant noodles out of my cupboard. Word.
Via Veneto
3009 Main Street
Santa Monica, CA 90405
(310) 399-1843
Chinese parents don't celebrate Halloween. They do not go to the store and buy bags of chocolates for all the cute little kiddies that come Trick or Treating. They do not carve a pumpkin into a Jack O' Lantern to decorate the porch.
Allright, so at least not my parents. That is, until my brother and I needed to fit in and begged and whined for them to pleeeeeease do Halloween stuff like all the other families in the neighborhood. Soon enough, my mom was helping us carve pumpkins and get ready to go out Trick or Treating. (Don't trip, all of the pumpkin seeds were of course saved for roasting) All of the candy was, of course, the cheap kind 'cause ain't no way they'd be spending money on the good stuff like Snickers or Kit Kats. Sometimes, they'd even get crap from the cupboards to give out like these red and gold foil wrapped Garden-brand coconut candies that Chinese families put out at Chinese New Year. No one ever eats them so my folks will almost always have a huge jar of these that they save for "just in case" occasions, like Halloween or the times when they brew bitter herbal tea for us and we need something sweet to take away the bitterness. I always felt sorry for those Trick or Treaters that came to our house.
This little thing needs some sun
I was up at my folks house in the Bay Area for Halloween and though they don't do the Halloween thing anymore 'cause me and my bro are all grown up (they turn off the porch lights to keep the kiddies away!), they still have a jar of these red and gold treats stored in the cupboard! For old times sake, I unwrapped and ate one of the pasty-peach colored coconutty hard candies--God knows how old it was--and remembered why no one ever fought over these at Chinese New Year. Ummm, they're just not that good. But they made for a nice trip down memory lane and some really good laughs!
Being thirty-mmbzgmmph *hand covering mouth* is soooo not old. But there are times when I just feel old. I feel old, for example, when I can't seem to stay up past 10:30 pm anymore. I also feel old when my idea of a good time on Friday night is pizza and Netflix. The little just-out-of-college entry-level twenty-somethings that I have on my staff are the sweetest and smartest kids ever, but I just can't relate to them. They have so much energy about everything, and at the same time they're so naive, not yet jaded by life. One day, when they asked me how old I was, they squealed "Ohmigawd, you're thirty-mmbzgmmph????? Like you TOTALLY don't look it. We thought you were like twenty-six or something!" Gee thanks. I never said I looked old, I said I feel old.
On the flip side, however, there are times when I feel sooo young. Shoot, it seems like just yesterday that I was able to party 'til the break of day and still finish a term paper that was due the day after. I'm not supposed to be doing grown up responsible things like thinking about retirement or looking into real estate...I'm still a kid! And the fact that my friends and I (who are all around my thirty-mmbzgmmph age) were the youngest customers at Hamburger Hamlet in Sherman Oaks the other day makes being a responsible adult even more puzzling. "See, look!" I said to myself, "I am still a kid!"
The median age of all the customers at lunch that day had to have been somewhere around 50, and I'm really not kidding. This could have been a dining room at my grandmother's senior citizen complex, only you'd never catch my grandmother eating at a place like this. To me right now, it's just Hamburger Hamlet. To my grandma, it's too fancy, too expensive, too "high class" for her tastes. I expect, though, that when I get to be my grandmother's age, I'll probably share her point of view and opt to go to Chinese food or IHOP instead. Yeah, Hamburger Hamlet is bourgeous dining for middle class seniors...they have limo-worthy Grey Poupon on the tables. They have leather booths and dark wood accents. They even have a bar.
Pardon me, but do you have any...
How we four young things ended up at Hamburger Hamlet was all a matter of Lobster Bisque. We'd all been craving it for whatever reason and I'd put a posting on Chowhound asking where I could get a good bowl. Of course, high-end places like Providence came up from a few Hounds, which I'd have gone to for dinner or a special occasion, but a few other people had suggested Hamburger Hamlet, which I kind of questioned at first but which I also thought was much more affordable and lunchworthy.
For three of us, lunch consisted of a bowl of lobster bisque each and a cobb salad split amongst us. The bisque's consistency and texture was nice--creamy velvety smooth with small chunks of crab and lobster inside. It was, however, too salty, making it nearly impossible for me to judge how the bisque actually tasted. Somewhere in there, I detected the taste of lobster, but again, who really would have known behind all that saltiness? It was also the kind of saltiness that kind of built up as I kept sipping away at the soup. All of a sudden, I had drank two huge tumblers of ice water and still did not have to pee. Also salty were the two slices of garlic toast that came with our soups, but because they were more garlicky and buttery than salty, they were a bit more bearable.
And do you have any lobster bisque to go with your salt?
Our eyeballs and mouths were drying out quickly from our salty bisque, so what a relief our cobb salad was. Cool and refreshing with lettuce, avocado, cubed turkey, bacon and gorgonzola all tossed in a bleu cheese dressing, the thirst from our shrivelled up mouths was immediately quenched.
This...
became this...refreshing!
It is a Hamburger Hamlet, after all, so what would lunch be without a burger? Well, I didn't have one, but my friend ordered their Western Cheddar burger, a totally more edible version of Carls Jr's. It certainly looked really good, and according to my friend, it was really good, so maybe next time I'm at Hamburger Hamlet (which will probably be at least 30 years from now), I'll order a burger! I can vouch for the fact that their fries were good because I mooched some of those... they were something between fat steak fries and skinny fries, crispy on the outside, hot and fluffy on the inside, all arranged standing up in a cup like pencils.
It's called Hamburger Hamlet...duh!
If burgers and salty soups ain't your cup of tea, the Hamlet's menu choices are plenty: they also serve your typical "bar and grill" type sandwiches (BLT's, Clubs, and such), broiled fish and chicken, chili, pasta, various salads, and several Hamlet specialties such as chicken pot pie and jambalaya. Just think of all the ways you'll have to pass the time when you're grown up and retired!
Hamburger Hamlet
4419 Van Nuys Blvd.
Sherman Oaks, CA 91403
other locations throughout Southern California
(818) 784-1183
www.hamburgerhamlet.com
I played hooky from work yesterday and walked into my office today to find this sitting in the seat of my chair:
My coworker had fashioned these miniature Mr. Hankeys out of Tootsie Rolls while I was out and decided to leave me a little surprise.
I'm on my way up to the Bay for a few days...Happy Halloween!
Can someone please tell me...why do bacon and gorgonzola work so well together?
Every Monday, my group at work has something called "Monday Munchies" where someone's responsible for bringing in snacks each week. A little reminiscent of grade school, I'll say. Remember when you had to be the Paper Monitor or the Lunch Monitor for the week? My fourth grade teacher even put up a "Monitor Wheel" with everyone's name on it and where every week, it'd be turned clockwise one tick and would assign each student his/her new weekly monitor responsilbility. I think being Paper Monitor was the easiest as all you had to do was pass paper out to all the kids, and Lunch or Milk Monitor was OK 'cause all you had to do was go to the lunch lady, get the box with all the hot lunches or milk in it and carry it to the cafeteria. Being Chalkboard Monitor was always scary because you were responsible for erasing the chalkboards AND cleaning the erasers (*cough cough*). But even as kids, no one ever wanted to be Ball Monitor, because, well, the name sounds funny.
So this week at work, it was my turn to be Snack Monitor for Monday Munchies. And because it was a gloomy day on Sunday and because I needed an excuse not to go out and shop, I decided to do some serious baking. With all this talk lately about Beard Papa and cream puffs and with a recent disappointing experience at Lee's with their cream-filled Deli-Manjoo, I thought it'd be nice to whip up something of the puffy, creamy sort...but maybe something larger scale since I did literally have all day. Yes, I decided to bake eclairs.
I used the same recipe I always use, which is adapted from Gale Gand's recipe from the Food Network website. The difference, however, is that I normally only make one batch and this time, I had to make two in order to feed all the people in my group at work. Did I say I had all day?
Ahh, my peaceful, yet not so peaceful afternoon of eclair baking reminded me that I'm glad it is once again fall and that the weather has cooled down enough for me to use my oven again. (Prolonged oven use inside of a brick-walled apartment during the summer is more like baking the humans inside it, namely ME) It reminded me that baking is indeed relaxing and an excellent time for indulging in deep thought. (But not too deep--you gotta watch that timer!) And it also reminded me that an all-afternoon baking spree can take a toll on your bad wrist especially when you have to break out the fricken pastry bag and do all that piping. Next time, I'm just going to use the choux pastry for cream puffs. Same taste, just different shape, and NO prolonged piping.
Luckily for me, my eclairs turned out really well--the golden brown outer shell topped with a chocolate ganache shell revealed a light, creamy, vanilla-infused custard inside--and were a huge hit at Monday Munchies." If I'd been in one of my moods, I'd have filled them with mayonnaise to fuck with everyone, but nah, I thought I'd be nice this time.
Here's a link to the recipe. The recipe calls for 1/2 a vanilla bean, but depending on the quality of bean you use, you may want to up it to a whole bean or supplement the half bean with some vanilla extract. I used the Tahitian Vanilla Beans from Trader Joe's, and while they're well priced, they're a bit on the dry side and not too flavorful. Also, the pastry cream part of the recipe is not enough for one batch, in my opinion. I think it really needs about 1 1/2 times that amount. The chocolate ganache and egg wash parts, however, yield enough for two batches. One more thing, if it gets too difficult to fill the eclair from one side of the pastry, poke a hole in the other side of the eclair and pipe the pastry cream in from the other side as well.
The Snack Monitor's work is done. Now we just need someone to be "Ass Monitor" to check how big our asses are going to get from all these snacks.
*looking over shoulders* OK, look. I'm going to say something that is probably going to earn me a lot of hate mail as soon as I hit "Publish." Ready?
I went to Ribs USA the other day. And really liked it.
OK there, you happy? Now bring it on. I can take it.
More than any other type of food out there, BBQ seems to be what people get the most defensive and competitive about. The Chowhound Los Angeles board will show you: put a post about the "Best BBQ in LA" anyday and there'll be a slew of debate over who has it. Perhaps it's because there is clearly not a multitude of good BBQ places in L.A. Whatever the case, it's like BBQ is somehow connected so someone's manhood or origins, like "If you're gonna fuck with my BBQ, you's better come fuck with me first." Or worse yet, bring up a good BBQ place that everyone else thinks is crap and people will come after you with torches and dogs to hunt you down.
Well, unfortunately for me, Ribs USA is one of those places. It was named by 9 on the Town as one of the Top 9 Rib Places, and though I don't think anyone slammed Ribs USA directly, there were certainly a slew of negative responses to the original post that contained this list. "That list is crap," one guy said. "What a joke," said another. OK, I agree with some of the Hounds...Dr. Hogly Wogly's is crap, and The Pig on La Brea is even crappier, and I haven't been to this so called chain of crap Lucille's Smokehouse, but damn it, I like Ribs USA! I may as well be condemned to chain-restaurant-lover status huh?
Ribs USA is about mismatched wooden tables and chairs, neon beer signs in the windows, plastic beer penants lining the ceilings, TV's with the latest games on, and sawdust and peanut shells on the floor. Not an ounce of pretention in this shack of a restaurant located on Burbank's Olive Avenue. It makes you want to sit down, watch a game, and have a few beers. And not fancy imported beers, mind you; I'm talkin' the domestic stuff--Coors, Miller, or Bud. Grab a complimentary basket o' peanuts, crack those suckers open, toss your shells on the floor, and you're set.
You can toss these shells to the curb (literally!)
So maybe Ribs USA doesn't excel at all of their 'cue. Their beef ribs are a tad on the tougher side (but I feel that way about most beef ribs anyways). Their BBQ chicken seems just like roast chicken with BBQ sauce on it. But their baby backs? Basted in a honey-sweet, smoky and slightly spicy sauce, the meat on these comes right off the bone with a slight pull and yet stays on just enough so that you have something to suck and gnaw on to get every last bit of sauce off. Finger lickin' good, I say.
Mmm, meat...
For lunch recently, my analyst and I split a T-Bird Tyrone's combo, including a half slab of baby backs (or beef ribs if you so choose, but guess which one we chose), 2 hot links and 2 sides. The two hot link sausages were cut in half and butterflied and were hiding underneath our half slab of ribs. No worries--this way, they got all that yummy sauce that dripped off the ribs, and as if they didn't already have a nice spicy kick to themselves, the BBQ sauce off the ribs gave them even more kick.
*slamming knife into slab* I like this food, dammit!
Bitter and salted just right, our side of collard greens were also spicy the way I like 'em, making them far from boring. (Ain't nothing worse than boring collard greens) My analyst and I, however, disagreed on their potato salad. I don't think she likes potato salad in the first place, but let me order them anyways 'cause I'm the boss. They were more on the soft side, but they still had a nice chunky consistency, and if I had to guess what seasoned them I'd say it was 1000 island dressing and pickles, but I could be wrong. All I know is that they were a little creamy, a little tangy, a little sweet and just plain tasty! I can't say the same, however, about Ribs USA's Mac N' Cheese, which our table somehow got extra dishes of. Totally bland, no sharpness whatsoever...it was as if they made this dish with cottage cheese.
You can skip these
Ribs USA also serves pulled pork (which my friend thought was "OK"), tri-tip (which two other people in our party said were really good), hot wings, various sandwiches, burgers, fried catfish, charbroiled shrimp, and salads (but we don't need to know about those, right?).
I'm about to click on "Publish Post," and I've got a jumbo Mag-Lite in hand, just in case.
Ribs USA
2711 W. Olive Ave.
Burbank, CA 91505
(818) 841-8872
www.ribsusa.com
I don't really know why, but maybe just because they're cool, Peet's Coffee and Tea in Studio City is offering a free cup of tea or regular coffee every day in the month of October from 1-3 pm.
I know you only have a week or so to take advantage of this special offer, but I just found out myself! I had my money out and ready to go for the cup of oolong tea I'd ordered when I was informed of this wonderful offer by my friendly barista. No purchase necessary, no strings attached whatsoever. So, instead of going into the till, my cash went straight into the tip jar.
I'm not sure every Pete's location is in on this, or if it's just the Studio City one--I know your ghetto ass wants free coffee and all, but don't tell them "Pam from Daily Gluttony said I can get free coffee so cough it up." And don't forget to tip your baristas!
What's behind door No. 1?
Having to rewrite my resume after 5 years at my current company was a difficult task. I haven't really taken a good look at myself in a long time, and the longer I think about it, the more I realize that I can't do much, and I don't really do much. In fact, I get paid alot for acting like I know what I'm doing. You remember Chandler Bing on Friends, and how his job was to manage the "WENIS" but no one really knew what the hell he did? Well that's me.
OK, so my resume might as well just say that I "can do stuff." Uh, I can give orders to people and make them push numbers around that aren't important but sound important. Yeah, and I can take orders and answer questions from senior executives and make them feel OK about their business by making up silly reports and spreadsheets while meanwhile I don't know or care of what the hell they're talking about anyways. I can lead and facilitate meetings. I can calculate all kinds of random financial stuff. I can hang out in my friends' offices and chat about nothing for an hour while the assholes upstairs are passing by my office wondering where the hell I am. I can talk on the phone, send emails to my friends and surf the internet. I can look for jobs, update my blog, read blogs and buy stuff on eBay. Yes, when it comes down to it my friends, I can get my job done both well and on time AND waste tons of time while doing it. When it comes down to it I guess what I do best, what I should really be putting as the main area of strength on the "Summary of Qualifications" part of my resume is "Can multi-task like a mother fucker."
Maybe it's because I'm already used to it, but multi-tasking at work is a piece of cake. I've got this juggling a million personalities and tasks thing down to a tee. So when I was asked to take 12 coworkers, all of different ethnic backgrounds, corporate status, epicurean tastes, religious backgrounds (you'll see) to eat dim sum at one of my regular dim sum joints, Chinatown's Empress Pavillion, my multi-tasking skills were really put to the test. First, I had to organize the car caravan--who's driving, how many cars do we need, who knew how to get there (which turned out to be just me), give everyone directions. Once that was done, a game of follow the leader ensued--three cars began their trek from North Hollywood to downtown. I knew that myself and the four girls I was with would certainly arrive at our destination safely and soundly, but I had to keep an eye out for the other two cars full of managers and coworkers and what-not.
Me and my car-mates, of course, were the first to arrive at this grandiose dining establishment which at 11:45 was already pretty full. Individual conversations and laughter had combined itself into one giant cloud of noise that blanketed the restaurant. The five of us had settled into a large round table and things were pretty quiet at this point. We were immediately brought pots of tea, and because we were starving and didn't know how far behind the others were trailing, we took it upon ourselves to order. I broke out the Cantonese, asking each of the cart ladies what kind of goods she had, pointing to various plates and steamer tins. This was the easy part: there were only five of us there, and all of us were already familiar with dim sum in one way or another, so no explanations necessary.
As I mentioned, the five of us were already familiar with dim sum and were a little more adventurous in our tastes in food, so we ordered some of the more "authentic" dishes like braised chicken feet, braised tripe, and spareribs in black bean sauce. The braised chicken feet were divine...both sweet and salty with dark soy, its gelatinous and fatty skin easily tugged off with the teeth. I got to enjoy it in peace, meticulously sucking each one of the tarsal and metatarsal (is that what they call them on birds?) bones dry. Our tripe, though a bit on the oily side, still had that tickly and crunchy texture that I love, its goose-bumpy flaps soaking up the gingery-garlicky sauce nicely. I've never really been a huge fan of the spareribs in black bean sauce--I've always thought the sparerib meat was too chewy--but the salty-bitter black bean sauce sure was tasty. I took advantage of this calm before the storm while I could, while at the same time keeping an eye out for the seven dim sum virgins who were about to get caught entering the Empress Pavillion dining room like deer in headlights.
Do the chickens have large talons?
Don't trip, it's just tripe
Can you spare me a sparerib?
They arrived shortly thereafter, the five of us waving them down and the seven of them having to swim across the expansive dining floor, weaving in and out of tables and dodging steam carts. Immediately, I had to turn the multi-tasking switch to "ON."
How does this work, Pam?
What's in that, Pam?
Does it have meat in it?
Can I get a fork?
Do they have regular menus here?
Can you ask them for one?
I think my head actually did a 360, as it was pulled in every possible direction by people that had never had dim sum before, people that were afraid to talk to the Chinese ladies pushing the carts, people that didn't eat meat, people that did eat meat but that didn't eat pork for religious reasons, people that were just plain curious about finding out about one of the greatest culinary pastimes of my culture. I was talking a mile a minute, first listening to questions from everyone, then switching back and forth from Cantonese for talking to the steam cart ladies and waiters to English for the anxious group around me. I had to constantly keep an eye out for items I that knew were vegetarian. I also had to do word problems in my head like this one for everything that was ordered:
"If there is shrimp in this dish, but no pork, and there are 2 people in the group who don't eat any kind of meat whatsoever, and there are 4 pieces per tin, how many tins should I order?"
I think that finally I got a groove going. I had to re-prioritize my to-do list, and thus the camera had to be put away after awhile. Food got on the table and slowly but surely, everyone was happy. The fried shrimp rolls, wrapped in paper thin, blistery dough, were a huge hit as were the more popular dim sum plates like har gow, steamed shrimp dumplings, and shu mai, steamed pork and shrimp dumplings. Both the vegetarians and the non-vegetarians loved the plate of crunchy and slightly bitter Chinese broccoli with oyster sauce I ordered for the table. And, there were some things that were a little strange to them. I had ordered some enoki mushrooms wrapped in soybean paper for the vegetarians, but because they'd never had enoki mushrooms before, the mushrooms' stringy texture made them ask me, "Are you sure there's no meat in this???" Some of them were also weirded out by the concept of lotus paste since they'd never before heard of it. And sure, they made me order stuff that I would never even think of ordering here, like potstickers for instance, but it made them happy, and I was happy that they were happy.
Hey Mikey, he likes it!
Mainstream, but reliable shu mai
Take a look at the damage...
So once again, my fabulous multi-tasking skills helped me through yet another situation, and with the help of Empress Pavillion and its trusty dim sum and energetic atmosphere, I managed to turn a handful of my coworkers into dim sum fans--an example that I think is worthy of mentioning in any resume or job interview.
Empress Pavillion
988 N. Hill St. , ste 201
Los Angeles, CA 90012
(213) 617-9898
Walking into the popular Vietnamese sandwich chain Lee's Sandwiches, one would expect the initial aroma to be one of pate or daikon or pork roll, but no such luck. It's quite the opposite, in fact. At Lee's your first whiff is often that of vanilla and eggs, something that you'd expect from a bakery or even an ice cream shop that made fresh waffle cones. Is this the sweet smell of bahn mi? Nope--it's actually the smell of Deli-Manjoo, mini cream-filled cakes made fresh at Lee's.
The folks at Lee's turn these little guys out, just like their sandwiches, with factory-like efficiency using some kind of automated heated plate molds. I've seen them make these a thousand times while waiting to pick up my bahn mi order. Today, I just couldn't stand it any more and had to get some of this vanilla scented goodness that I'd been passing up all this time. For a buck I got a bag of four, which was the perfect amount to snack on while driving around Alhambra all morning and to tie me over until I got to sit down somewhere and eat my sandwich.
I bit into my first minature-ear-of-corn-shaped Deli-Manjoo and got a little dab of creamy custardy filling. The thing was more cake than anything, reminding me a little of a madeleine, but not as delicate. I was expecting a mess! The sign at Lee's said "Caution--The Filling Is Hot!" I thought there'd be thick, hot custard dripping and burning me as I drove down Valley Blvd, but I was wrong. All I got was a smidgen of lukewarm vanilla cream that was a wee bit on the runny side. The verdict? These don't make for a good Carl's Jr. commercial. And they were good, but not great. Lee's thrills me much more with their sandwiches.
Lee's Sandwiches
1289 E. Valley Blvd.
Alhambra, CA 91801
(626) 282-5589
other locations in Southern California
www.leessandwiches.com
Some people, when their fiancé comes back from Puerto Rico, get a t-shirt that says "My Fiancé Went To Puerto Rico And All I Got Was This Lousy T-Shirt." Not me. When my fiancé comes back from Puerto Rico, I get two huge bags full of delicious, thinly cut, crispy, and lightly salted plantain chips made from scratch by an old family friend--apparantly some really ornery old lady who says to Isaac: "You want me to make the damn plantain chips??? Well then you gotta drive me to the store." Now that's love.
Whether you're Asian or not, you've all heard the phrase FOB which stands for Fresh Off (the) Boat. I use this term or variations of it (e.g. "fobby", "fobbish") to endearingly make fun of friends or relatives who have just come over to the States, or even those who have been here for a while but who still seem to hang on to the old country. You know, stuff like the fact that they think Versace shirts are hip or that they prefer to squat on the ground instead of sitting in a chair or leaning against a wall or the fact that after years of being here, their clothes still smell like mothballs AND they still have not mastered the English language. I know many people like this--hell, even my parents are a little on the fobby side--and I love each and every one of them to bits, but I have to admit there was a time when I was a kid growing up, that I was a little embarrased to be surrounded by all this fobbiness. I didn't understand why they couldn't try harder to assimilate, why someone always had to bring braised beef tongue to a Thanksgiving turkey dinner. I got over it soon enough, learning to appreciate and embrace the mix of cultures.
So it comes as no surprise, then, that as I've gotten older, I've incorporated some fobbiness into some of the things I do, even though I am SOOO not a fob. Like I always bring a pack of dried squid and shrimp chips along on road trips. I still eat porridge and noodles for my birthday. I still have an aversion to the number 4 because the number 4 in Chinese sounds like the word for death. And at barbeques, my friends and I always like to fob it up a little--we cook stuff on the grill, but there's always, ALWAYS rice. We did one this Saturday which was not at all refined, no need for any sort of ambiance, 'cause we're all like family anyways. There were no place settings or proper utensils. Tin foil and bags were strewn all over the counters and table. But the food? The food was DAMN GOOD! So without further ado, I now present to you our ghetto FOB-ulous BBQ...
When we first got to my friend T's house, we all had to take off our shoes and leave them with the sea of shoes in the foyer...
Check out my friend's new shoes. Aren't they fobby??? He likes to wear these with jeans. But that's OK 'cause he likes them and that's all that matters!
OK, enough about shoes. These were really the star of the show...my friend T grilled up some steaks for us which were damn good. Here is the pile o' meat after T took them off the BBQ. Notice the random Target bag in the background.
No fobby BBQ is complete without rice (not shown) and kimchee:
Or without a few 40's of Hite Beer:
My friend H made these kick-ass egg rolls complete with dipping sauce (not shown)! Mmmm...
There was even some more "Westernized" stuff in the mix, like these grilled zucchini, eggplant and mushrooms. These...
Became these...My fave was the zucchini.
I didn't get a chance to take a pic of what I brought, which were potatoes au gratin with bacon, but if you look in the photo below of the mess on the table, they were in that glass baking dish. I used a recipe that I had torn out of a Southwest Airlines magazine, and they turned out really good! I'll make them again one day and do a whole post on them.
For dessert, my friend T's girlfriend J baked these really awesome chocolate macadamia nut cookies. We also had watermelon, red seedless grapes and a cake from Chinatown's Phoenix Bakery 'cause it was my friend M's birthday. Now see that greased up pot o'grease in the background?
Here's a close up of it. See how the grease is just caked on all up and down the sides of the pot? Mmmm. We were wondering what that ceramic pie on the stove was--turns out it's a bacon grease container. Now that's ghetto.
Here they are again but this time you get a view of the range controls, one which does not work and is taped over with paper and masking tape with the words "Do Not Touch" on it.
So there you have it, our ghetto FOB-ulous potluck BBQ. I love these kinds of functions--totally low key, no pretention, kick-ass food and drink, and lots of laughs. The topic of the evening this time was whether or not there really is a midget village with like midget sized houses in a midget sized community in Long Beach. My friend M swears he saw it once. But he was drunk and can't remember where it is exactly. So if anyone has ever seen it, been to it, or knows where it is, please let me know!
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