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There were lots of reasons to be happy today. If not for me, then at least for some of my friends and coworkers. It was my friend's birthday, for one. Secondly, it was my coworker's last day at the rat maze. And finally, it's Friday and the weekend's here! Lots of reasons to celebrate, as you can see, so we set out to find happiness at happy hour once again.
My friend suggested Burbank Bar & Grille, a local *what else* bar and grill on Burbank's newly revitalized San Fernando Road. Seemed reasonable enough: it's close to work and pretty central to where the 8 of us would be driving home to. And more importantly, happy hour at Burbank Bar and Grille lasts 'til 7pm!
The place wasn't hip or fancy by any means (after all, it's Burbank); it was filled with other boring office drones just like us looking to drink away a tough week of office slavery. But it was no-nonsense, which was great. Who wants a complicated happy hour, right? We were already dazed enough. We needed no rules, no crowds, no long waits, no complicated parking and this place gave it to us.
Burbank Bar and Grille's happy hour menu is pretty basic. Discounted drinks: $3 Coors Lite and single well drinks, $4 imported drafts, and $5 Stoli martinis. And a few discounted appetizers: $3 quesadilla, $3.50 potato skins, an $4.50 pizza margherita and chicken nachos. A pretty good value, I must say. My cosmo, for 5 bucks, was decent: not too watered down nor too strong and also made with Stoli, my favorite cheap vodka. The food wasn't bad considering it cost next to nothing. The potato skins were good--crispy on the outside with fluffy potato on the inside, sporting an ooey-gooey layer of cheddar cheese and topped with crisp, salty bacon bits. The quesadilla was decent; the tortillas were grilled nicely, crispy but not rock hard. Again more ooey-gooey cheese, which on the quesadilla, tasted good only when it was first brought out. Let it sit and all you get is an oily, rubbery mess. The chicken nachos, however, left something to be desired. These tasted like someone threw some salsa, cheese and chicken chunks into a heap of Tostitos and microwaved it. Oh well, it was only $4.50.
This was a mess
I wouldn't have spent my money at this place regular price, but at happy hour, the bill was only 10 bucks per person for drinks, okay food and a whole lotta laughs. So yes, this happy hour was indeed happy.
Burbank Bar and Grille
112 N. San Fernando Rd.
Burbank, CA 91502
(818) 848-9611
...if you drop your business card into the little box at Baja Fresh and they happen to draw your name in their weekly lunch drawing.
Except it was Isaac, not me. So we decided to make a dinner date out of it tonight as the Baja Fresh manager who called him to tell him he'd won the drawing said he had until Saturday to come in. He redeemed his prize, choosing the Steak Bare Burrito Bowl and a large drink, and the girl behind the counter with the tattooed eyebrows and lipliner gave me a weird look when I went Cheap-Chinese on him and asked under my breath why he hadn't gone for something a little more expensive. (I think the most expensive items were only a buck or two more, but it's free, so you have to make every penny count right? My parents taught me well.) We ordered my food separately, two Baja Fish Tacos with beans and rice, which cost a little over 7 bucks.
As we were at the location on Sunset and Vine, there would undoubtedly be free entertainment via people-watching! Tonight's lineup was a group of about ten rocker-alternative dudes in their mid-20's, all dressed in some sort of black shirt and black pants or shorts, pierced and tattooed, who you know make an effort to look that way to be "different," but funny enough, put 'em all together and they look the same. And then there were the teenage skanks with Jonbenet-esque hair and makeup, wearing ass-crack jeans and platforms, trying to get everyone's attention by what they thought were sexy airs--hair twirls, etc. Some of the rocker-alternative dudes were actually checking out the pre-pubescent ho's. I guess you had to be there, but it was absolute comedy.
But then we decided to roam around Borders bookstore afterwards and we passed our 1 hour free with validation timeframe, so we ended up paying $2 for parking. That means we actually shelled out about 10 bucks tonight for our uninspiring Mexican fast food meal. Maybe it wasn't much of a free lunch after all, but with the circus-quality entertainment, it was well worth the trip.
Inspired by a recipe in a recent issue of Self Magazine, I threw together quite a delicious Insalata di Rucola (Arugula Salad) for dinner. According to the magazine, Dolce Enoteca e Ristorante, an Italian restaurant in Hollywood partially funded by Ashton Kutcher and frequented by other A-listers, serves up this exact recipe. Except I made mine for, what, like 2 bucks?
Here's the recipe in case you wanna get in on the action:
Ingredients:
1 1/2 tbsp fresh lemon juice
1/2 clove garlic, peeled
1 tbsp Italian parsley
1 tsp capers
1/4 extra-virgin olive oil
4 cups fresh arugula
2 oz parmesan (I used a little more; 2 oz. ain't enough)
*Place lemon juice, garlic, parsley and capers in a blender and puree until smooth.
*Slowly add oil and blend until emulsified.
*Toss arugula with dressing.
*Shave parmesan with cheese plane or veggie peeler and top salad with cheese.*I tossed some whole capers into my salad to add some extra zing.
More Hollywood recipes for you Hollywood wannabes here. Enjoy!
So I finally saw Star Wars, Episode 3: Revenge of the Sith this weekend. And it left me, well, hungry, amongst other things.
Unfortunately, all of the digital projection shows at the Arclight were sold out for the Memorial Day weekend and I despise the crowds at The Grove, so we decided to go to an 11am show at the Edwards Stadium Cinemas in Alhambra to see how Anakin turns to the Dark Side. Now I won't leave any spoilers for all you kiddies who haven't seen it yet, but I was a little disappointed. Don't get me wrong...I loved the story 'cause it tied everything up really well. I am, as you can probably already tell, somewhat of an old school Star Wars geek at heart. But other than that, horrible acting, cheesy love scenes, and the theatre we went to had terrible sound. Worst of all, I was STARVING by the time the movie let out at 1:30.
We were right in the heart of downtown Alhambra so there definitely wasn't a lack of places to eat. Not in the mood to be experimental, we chose to stroll down Garfield Ave. to our usual Alhambra pho joint, Pho 79. Walking into its geometrically 80's decorated dining space, we discovered that there was a short wait (there usually is a short wait during peak hours and weekends--this place is popular!) but we stayed and were seated within 5 minutes. Fortunately I've learned that tables at pho restaurants usually turn pretty fast.
No time to mess around--we were hungry, dammit--so we ordered with out really looking at the menu. Two bowls of Pho Dac Biet and an order of Imperial Rolls to start.
Like I said before, pho people are fast--our Imperial Rolls were out in a jiffy and our growling stomachs thanked the hunger gods. More widely known as Cha Gio or deep fried spring rolls, Pho 79's Imperial Rolls are delicious. The wrapper actually seems to be composed of a couple of really, really thin wrappers, contributing to its perfect crispiness: not too dough-y and not too delicate. Its minced pork filling was seasoned well with fish sauce and pepper and the vermicelli noodles, wood ear fungus, and mushrooms added a soft crunch. My favorite part of eating Vietnamese spring rolls, though, is wrapping each roll in the lettuce and seasonal herbs they provide and dipping the little pouch I made into the nuoc cham, a salty, tangy fish sauce-based dipping sauce with slivers of carrot.
The Empire didn't make these Imperial Rolls, Pho 79 did.
We weren't even done with our last few pieces of Imperial Roll when our bowls of Pho Dac Biet came out. You can usually order your pho with any combination of beef and beef parts--rare beef, rare and well cooked beef, tendon, well cooked beef and tendon, well cooked beef, tendon, and brisket. That's always too much for me to think about, so I just say *fuck it* and order the Pho Dac Biet time and time again, a special combination pho with rare and well cooked beef, brisket, tendon, and tripe--kind of a "pho with everything on it." Pho 79 makes a pretty good bowl of pho. The broth is dense with beef, ginger and anise flavor, not watered down at all. They give you a good proportion of meat and perfectly cooked rice noodles. The condiments--basil leaves, lime, jalapenos and bean sprouts--are always fresh and plentiful. Today, however, the meat to noodle ratio was a little off; there was a ton of meat in both our bowls and not enough noodles. Must've been a surplus in cows. Oh well, everyone is entitled to an off day.
Pho Shizzle: Pho Dac Biet
Well, with the exception to our really beefy bowls of pho, this meal more than made up for the 2 hrs and 20 minutes I spent watching the rise of Darth Vader. But like Pho 79, everyone deserves an off day once in awhile, and I will certainly forgive George Lucas for this so-so film for which I had higher expectations. Yes, my friends, the force is still with me.Pho 7929 S. Garfield Ave.Alhambra, CA 91803(626) 289-0239
I am grateful to my college years at UCLA for exposing me to many things. I was exposed to the agony of pulling all-nighters before finals. I was exposed to beer kegs and Goldschlager shots and the harsh discovery that the two don't mix well. I was exposed to many different cultures (and foods!) through the friends I made. And finally, I was exposed to many different ideals and the people that believed strongly in them. It was the first time I realized people got mad at others for simply being content with the way life is. It was the first time I had really been introduced to the concept of political correctness and why it was important to be sensitive to others that are different than me. And it was the first time I had ever been exposed to staunch-feminism.
I recall a day when I was studying with my then-boyfriend and a group of our dorm-mates at Kerkhoff Hall. I got up to buy a cup of coffee for myself, so instinctively I asked my then-boyfriend what he wanted. Before he could answer, one of our dorm-mates, a self-proclaimed feminist, rudely interrupted, "How can you let yourself serve him like that? No woman should serve a man! Don't you have any self-respect?" For some reason, we just got up and left. Today, I would have kicked her ass.
I'd also heard stories from my male friends that some women had actually gotten mad when they'd hold the door open for them. My college girlfriends and I once invited a bunch of people over for a potluck dinner party. When we asked this one girl if she'd like to cook something for the party, she told us that she doesn't cook because the kitchen is no place for a woman anymore.
The kitchen is no place for a woman anymore??? Come on! Yeah, we're not in 1950's America anymore where a woman is expected to stay home all day and have dinner on the table by the time her husband comes home, but what's wrong with a woman who actually chooses to cook or take care of a home? Maybe I've got some traditional sentiments, perhaps it was the way I was raised, but to me, a powerful woman isn't necesarily just an independent, successful woman. A powerful woman is, rather, a woman who can hold her own, be successful at whatever career or passions she pursues AND who can also run a kitchen and a home like no one else can. That, my friends, is the power of a woman--have a woman go up against a man in that category and she'll mostlikely kick his ass by a longshot.
Saturday night, I had an opportunity to check out just how awesome women in the kitchen can be, thanks to Sarah from The Delicious Life's monthly flogger event, Dine and Dish: Queen of Cuisine. I had thought of going to one of Suzanne Goin's creations, but I had already been to A.O.C. last month and I thought I'd diversify. I thumbed through my Zagat to search for restaurants manned by, owned by, or created by a woman. But then it came to me. Flashbacks of old-school Food Network days when I'd sit and watch as two quirky women--one brunette who's shorter and spunkier, and the other, the blonde, who's taller and a little more mellow-- prepare their twists on Latin cuisine. You know who I'm talking about yet?
Susan Fenniger and Mary Sue Miliken, or the "Too Hot Tamales," as they're better known, are classically-trained chefs, TV and radio personalities, and the owner-operators of popular Nuevo Latino restaurants, Border Grill in Santa Monica and Las Vegas and Ciudad in Downtown L.A. I sure as hell couldn't make it to Vegas and I wanted to get out of downtown (plus I've been to Ciudad before and wanted to try something new), so I opted for Border Grill in Santa Monica.
Woo-hoo, par-tay! we thought, as we entered the festive dining space, buzzing with conversation, laughter, and hip Latin beats. Brightly painted murals, reminiscent of Joan Miro, Picasso, and Keith Haring surrounded us. We walked past a giant square table in the bar area that seated a group of about 20 people, all with margaritas or mojitos in hand, celebrating something, maybe even nothing, but just celebrating.
It's like a fiesta in here!
Once seated, our server, looking a little like Gunther from Friends, explained the day's specials and a few of the more popular regular menu items with more gusto than I'd ever seen a server do in my life. He stooped down to do his little spiel, (a server's trick, I've heard, to bring themselves to the customer's level instead of looking down on them) which was a little too close for comfort, in my opinion, as he was a bit of a "close-talker." But at least he was trying to make us feel at home. After he took our order (and after we took a deep breath after wondering if he was going to start making out with us), tortilla chips and three different salsas were brought to our table for us to graze on as we waited for our food. The chips were a wee bit stale, but they didn't stop us from continuously dipping into the little pools of green, orange and red. The tomatillo salsa was sharp and zesty, with a subtle cilantro flavor. I skipped over that one as soon as I tasted the cilantro (don't forget, the shit makes me gag), but Isaac thought it was decent. I enjoyed the other two choices more, a chipotle salsa, mild and smoky, and a roasted tomato salsa, sweet and spicy.
Chips And Three Salsas
Our appetizer, the Border Classics, a selection of their three most popular starters, arrived shortly. I started out with a green corn tamale, an adorable little corn-husked wrapped bundle filled with sweet corn and masa. Although it tasted a little unlike most tamales I've eaten, the filling was good. The extremely moist masa was a little less salty than I'm used to but the corn kernels made up for that with their sweetness. I moved on to the purple dumplings on the plate next, the plantain empanadas. Here, roasted plantains were stuffed with black beans, poblano chiles and a bit of salty cotija cheese, a combination that couldn't have worked better as with each little bite, I could taste each ingredient working both indpendently and in unison. I'm still a little confused as to why they were purple, though. Last up on our appetizer sampler plate were a couple of chicken panuchos, which were basically chicken tostadas with black beans, guacamole, and pickled onions. These were good but I thought they were nothing special, that is, until I had a bite of its pickled red onion garnish. They were cool, crisp, and both sweet and tart-- a little reminiscent of some of the pickled vegetables that I'm more used to in Chinese dishes. But I'd never had pickled vegetables on a tostada before, so I gobbled the whole thing up!
Border Classics appetizer plate
As suggested by our "close-talker" waiter, we ordered the cochinita pibil and the gaucho steak as our entrees. Now, I've never had cochinita pibil before, so I don't really have anything to compare it to. As Border Grill specializes in upscale, modern Latin dining, I doubt that what I had could be called authentic Yucatan, but it was, nevertheless, pretty tasty. The slow roasted tender pork pulled apart easily and sat in a complex achiote-based sauce that had hints of citrus peel and cinnamon. As extras, black beans with a few specks of cotija cheese for saltiness, roasted plantains, guacamole, white rice (which was my least favorite thing on the plate as it was a little Minute Rice-ish), and yay--more pickled red onions!
Cochinita Pibil
The gaucho steak is Border Grill's obligatory steak-on-the-menu...every "modern ethnic" food establishment has one. As long as its good quality beef and cooked right, a steak is a steak is a steak, but at places like these, it's interesting to see what twists they put on the hunk o' red meat to make it their own. Border Grill adds some pretty tasty but more on the mushy side red chilaquiles (shredded tortillas fried in enchilada sauce), watercress salad, and marinated roasted garlic and serrano chiles to theirs. The watercress salad seemed a little out of place--perhaps it was there to lend some coolness to an otherwise dish full of heat? Another vegetable might have worked better. We cut up the marinated roasted garlic and serranos up into smaller pieces and had each tender bite of our medium rare steak with these spicy condiments. Now that combination worked extremely well. Allright, I guess Border Grill gets an A- for twist on obligatory steak dish.
Gaucho steak
OK, so overall I liked, not loved the food at Border Grill. I'm not usually a fan of fancy, pricey Latin American foods, because frankly, I'd rather go to a taco stand or something of that nature. Way more authentic, tastier food, and tons (and I mean TONS) cheaper. But regardless, I had a great time at Border Grill Saturday night! It was like attending a fiesta-themed dinner party thrown by two of your best girlfriends. (A party also attended by Helen Hunt and baby-daddy producer Matt Carnahan, by the way...they were dining at an adjacent table) It's just a mere hypothesis on my part, but I truly believe that because women have a natural maternal and homing instinct, women restauranteurs will go out of their way to create a warm and pleasant atmosphere for their diners, as did Mary Sue and Susan. Leave it to a woman to make you feel right at home.
And speaking of powerful women, Mary Sue and Susan are prime examples. These two can cook AND run their own cooking TV and radio programs, have their own line of prepared foods at Whole Foods Market, author five cookbooks, be actively involved with several charities involved in fighting hunger, poverty, and disease, and be the founding members of Women Chefs and Restauranteurs (WCR), a group dedicated to promoting women's rights and advancement within the food service industry. Don't believe me? Check out their website, www.marysueandsusan.com.
So see? Sometimes a woman's place is in the kitchen. And she'll outcook you and outsmart you at everything else, too.
Border Grill
1445 4th St.
Santa Monica, CA 90401
(310) 451-1655
Bought a bunch o' bananas from Costco not more than two days ago. Found a shitload of gnats buzzing around in the banana bag today. Threw the bananas out, but now there are gnats all over my house. Fucking gnats. I hate them.
If you ever want to see washed up celebrities, go to California Pizza Kitchen in Studio City.Today, I noshed on my CPK Club Salad right behind Erik Estrada! I once spotted David Hasselhoff having lunch with his wife and kids at an adjacent table. I have also seen Gabrielle Carteris (Andrea from Beverly Hills, 90210) coming out of their ladies room. My coworkers witnessed pre-adulthood Olsen twins enjoying pizza and salad a few years ago.
I wanted to turn around and tell Erik how much I enjoy him as the voice of Marco on Sealab 2021, but I chickened out.
California Pizza Kitchen
12265 Ventura Blvd.
Studio City, CA 91604
(818) 505-6437
I like L.A. I really do.
In fact, I chose to settle down in L.A. over my native Bay Area. I love the weather and the fact that I'm able to wear tank tops and flip flops at least 8 months out of the year. I love that I live in a big city with big city stuff to do but where its also convenient to hop in my car to go grocery shopping. (It's a myth that L.A. has the worst traffic. Try driving the Highway 80 Maze going into San Francisco any day...at least we have streets like Sepulveda or Washington to get around freeway traffic)
But there are certain things I hate about L.A., too. I hate the smog. I hate the too-tabloidy news programs. But most of all, I hate the pretentiousness of many of the people that live here. Today, when I had lunch at Ca' Del Sole, a Northern Italian in Toluca Lake, I was reminded of why I don't always necessarily like Los Angeles.
I ended up at this reminiscent-of-a-Tuscan-country-inn-restaurant to celebrate a wedding shower for a coworker/friend. Seated in their outdoor patio, complete with fountains, shady trees and terra-cotta potted geraniums and other flowers I don't know the names of, it felt like something straight out of L.A. Story. Studio people having their power lunches and faaaaabulous women with (unecessarily) turned up noses were everywhere. I kept waiting for the giant earthquake to come so that I could see everyone unaffectedly continue talking about how wonderful their new pilates instructor is or about when so-and-so's screenplay will be done, as wine and water with twists of this-and-that were being shaken up and spilled everywhere.
Well, the earthquake never happened, so I switched gears and focused back on the food. Though tempting, I opted to skip ordering antipasti or insalate for myself because I'm too self-conscious about ordering "extra" stuff when dining with a group of people who aren't close friends and who are going to end up splitting the bill. People end up talking shit behind your back, saying that because of you, they ended up paying 20 bucks for an 8 dollar hamburger. I'll see if any of the others order something to start with and I'll just ask to take a bite, I decided. Ooh, score! I got to sample my VP's carciofini salad, a salad of arugula, sliced baby artichokes, index-card sized slices of parmesan cheese, and lemon vinaigrette. Perhaps it's because I have somewhat of an arugula fetish, but I enjoyed the little bit that I had. It wasn't the most unique creation, as arugula salads always seem to get served up this way--with parmesan and lemon, but this particular combination of pepperiness, nuttiness, and tartness worked really well. I was hoping that somebody would order the carpaccio (thinly sliced raw beef fillet) or moscardini (warm baby octopus appetizer) so that I could do some subtle mooching, but no luck there. Oh well.
My pasta dish was a different story. I decided on the bigoli: Venetian-style spaghetti tossed with clams, shrimp, crab, white wine and tomato sauce. Certain aspects of my pasta were redeemable: the tomato sauce was slightly sweet and not overly tart; they were generous with the shrimp and clams; a few leaves of sauteed basil lent some spiciness. But the pasta was slightly overcooked and felt too starchy, perhaps from sitting under a heat lamp waiting to be brought out. That's not the worst of it, though. Sitting on top of the heap of seafood pasta was a monster crab claw. And admittedly, I was a little excited at first to see the big crustacean hand. I was even kinda thrilled about the nut/shell cracker they provided me. But the honeymoon ended when, after fumbling with the thing endlessly, spraying crab juice and shell pieces on my coworkers, I was rewarded with nothing but dry, un-meaty crab. I was anticipating something like the scene in Pretty Woman where Julia Roberts squeezes her escargot tongs too hard and accidentally flings the snail across the table. Luckily for me, that never happened, but I did end up with a bunch of crab shrapnel in my starchy pasta which I had to carefully pick out to avoid mutilating my mouth. What's more, my hands still smell like crab even after washing several times, which makes me fear that my crappy crab claw was very old, and that people will start thinking that I've secretly been engaging in some nasty, nasty activities. (Sorry, didn't mean to be gross, but this smell on my hands is fucking disgusting)
Bigoli Shmigoli
Stinky Crab Claw
The others in my group ordered everything from penne pasta with wild broccoli, chicken sausage and garlic to osso buco to lobster and crab ravioli in a lobster and taragon sauce. I expended so much energy eating my bigoli pasta that I did not try anyone else's entrees. All expressed that their dishes were good, though nothing got raving reviews.
What the penne looks like, in case you're wondering
What the osso buco looks like, in case you're wondering
Our desert, a warm chocolate and almond cake, was, well, your typical warm chocolate cake. The two bites I had were enough to satisfy my chocolate craving for the entire month, and its texture seemed to be just right, not too much dry crust and not too much oozing chocolate. But still nothing extraordinary.
I'm glad I got to try Ca' Del Sole after hearing all the hype. After all, it was a wonderful setting for this wedding shower, and it was nice to be outside on a beautiful L.A. day with my coworkers. Despite the snooty atmosphere, our server was very friendly. But now I never need to go back. Something just didn't work with me here. Or maybe, something just didn't work here. At first, I thought it was just me. I felt a little out of my element...not "L.A." enough. Maybe it's because I am not a "lady-who-lunches" nor a part of "the industry," I thought. But then my mind turned to the crab claw and I realized that it wasn't me. Ca' Del Sole does not have a pretentious atmosphere; it tries to have a pretentious atmosphere, which is in my opinion, almost worse. It's a wannabe snob full of wannabe snobs. Well ya know what? If you wannabe a snob, at least have decent crab claws.
Ca' Del Sole
4100 Cahuenga Blvd.
Toluca Lake, CA 91602
(818) 985-4669
Awwww, cute little bambinos!
That's what attracted me to these miniature spinach, feta cheese, and sun dried tomato pizzas. It was like finding a cute little abandoned baby, wrapped in swaddling cloths and all--you just haaaave to take it home! The clever guys at Trader Joes even drew a little cherub on the packaging to seal the deal.
But ya know what? This kid kinda sucks. It's not really a good kid, not very sweet. And there's no excitement, not even any kicking and screaming. All it is is kinda sour. Damn sun-dried tomatoes on these are way too tart and overpower the whole itty-bitty pizza. The spinach, cheese and crust were bland--way boring.
Looks Can Be Deceiving: Bambino From Hell
Usually, you're lucky if you can get the kid to sleep, but in this case, I tried adding salt and grated parmesan to my bambino to try and wake it up. OK, a little better, but not enough to convince me to adopt another one of these little tykes from Trader Joe's.
For the 4 bucks or so that you'll spend, you're stuck with 4 of these little pipsqueaks, not just one. Oh, and another thing? Please don't take any parenting advice from me.
There is a new girl at work who I don't get. We asked her to come with us to lunch one day and she hardly touched her chicken kababs (which were good, trust me). When asked if she didn't like her lunch, she answered in her best Valley Girl voice, "I dunno, I've just never liked food that much!"She has never heard of curry or hummus either. She is no fun, and I don't want to ever go out to lunch with her again.
I can tell that life is sucking ass right now 'cause all of a sudden food is there more as sustanance than as pleasure. The gluttony hasn't been quite as "daily" lately, and I apologize. I even have a confession to make: I ate lunch at a chain restaurant recently. And it was my idea.
OK, before I go any further, let me put a disclaimer out there. There is a difference between dining at a chain restaurant, like say, P.F. Chang's China Bistro, for convenience, and dining there for a gourmet experience. If you chose such an establishment because it's near the office and it's easier to please a group of people that varying degrees of food pickiness, then it's OK. If you chose such an establishment because it's Saturday night and you're going out to a "nice" dinner with your boyfriend or whatever, well then, I'm sorry. I mean really, really sorry.
I could have taken my coworkers elsewhere, but somehow Panera Bread seemed like the safest, most convenient option. Maybe no one would looooove it, but certainly no one would hate it either. (Unlike the times I've suggested stuff like Pho or Lebanese food to people outside of my normal lunch crowd--That's why they're not my true friends.)
I opted for the "You Pick Two" special--your choice of any two half sandwich, soup or salad for $7.95--with the Bacon Turkey Bravo sandwich and a Caesar Salad. Mediocre at best, my lunch tasted like all the other lunches I've had here. At Panera Bread, smoked turkey, smoked gouda cheese, lettuce, and tomato, on tomato basil bread tastes awfully similar to roast beef, smoked cheddar, lettuce, tomatoes, red onions and horseradish sauce on asiago cheese bread which also tastes surprisingly similar to pepper-mustard chicken, pesto aioli, field greens, tomatoes and red onions on rosemary and onion foccacia . Catch my drift?
This...
...tastes like this!
Panera's menu is full of culinary catchphrases that lure the unknowing diner into thinking that this place is up to date on the very latest food trends. It's a place where Joe and Jane Average can feel like they've stepped outside of their meat and potatoes box to become a little bit more worldly. Armed with new culinary vocabulary like "foccacia," "ciabatta bread," "aioli," "caramelized onions," "smoked cheddar," "field greens" and "vine ripened tomatoes," Joe and Jane can then brag to their next door neighbors, Bob and Susie Simple, that they have become fine gourmet diners. And gee, how funny--somehow all these "unique" ingredients manage to taste the same when put together by Panera's people. I don't know what these chain guys do to achieve such uniformity; it's scary sometimes.
For about 8 bucks, my hunger was subsided, I didn't have to hear anyone's bitching, and I went right back to tackling the day's stresses. So yeah, I got what I came for. But man, I've gotta get back on track. Today, I actually went with some of my Stepford-esque coworkers to the Olive Garden, and I feel fucking disgusted with myself. I for sure ain't writing anything about that experience. I'm too embarrased for having said anything at all.Panera Bread12131 Ventura Blvd.Studio City, CA 91604(818) 762-2226Various locations throughout Southern California, but who cares?
For lunch today, I ate something I brought back to L.A. in my "Take Out" bag. There's no real English name for it; my parents write "Soy Sauce Chicken" on the take-out box they packed it in, which is the literal translation of its Cantonese name, "See Yao Gai." Consisting of chicken wings and hard boiled eggs that have been permeated by soy sauce, this dish is sort of an "Ode to Chicken" as it shows the chicken-life-cycle in all its glory. It's been dubbed "The Chicken Special" or "Chicken Dee-Lite" by coworkers and friends who, when I open my tupperware and start eating, can't help but chuckle at my pre- and post-conception chicken lunch.
I called my dad to ask how one makes "Chicken Dee-Lite"; here's what I found out:
*Mix equal parts Lee Kum Kee Chicken Marinade (or similar sauce) with water. Bring to a boil.*Add one or two chunks of rock sugar.
*Add eggs and boil until hard-boiled.
*Remove eggs and add chicken wings; simmer until cooked through. (Do not overcook)
*Remove shells from eggs and add to chicken and sauce. Refrigerate for a day or two until sauce penetrates the eggs. (Sauce with become gelatinous and it will look like you've made yourself a soy sauce chicken terrine. Do not become alarmed...this is supposed to happen!)
*Reheat and serve.
Try it, you'll like it. After all, we should be paying tribute to the chicken--we all owe it to our feathered friends for providing us with many a great meal, right?
In order to get my day's fill of folic acid, I decided to roast some asparagus for dinner. One of my favorite vegetable side dishes, roasted asparagus is extremely easy to prepare: drizzle with olive oil, sprinkle with kosher salt and fresh ground pepper, and roast at 400 degrees for about 15 minutes. What you get are some glossy, blistery stalks, tender on one end, and slightly crispy at the spear with a nice woodsy flavor. And some really evil smelling pee.I was curious, so I went here to get more info on the mysteries of asparagus pee. You can, too, if you're wondering.
Today my coworker and I saw a woman with a mechanical hand as we were lunching at Baja Fresh. Well, I'm not sure if was a mechanical hand for sure, but she had some bandgaes and braces on it that had these coppery wirey things sticking out of the fingers and connecting back to the wrist part. I can't imagine what awful injury would cause that poor woman to have to wear a contraption like that. I really hope that her phalanges aren't in that much pain, so I'm gonna go with the possibility that she's wearing the mechanical hand as a tribute to the upcoming release of Star Wars: Episode III, Revenge of the Sith. Or maybe she is actually a Jedi who lost her forearm in a lightsaber duel.
I love perks. Those extra little things make such a difference--the free miniature sized products I get with my perfume or skin care purchases, the free dessert a restaurant throws in 'cause you're a regular, the free drinking water and coffee I get at the office (oh no wait, my company doesn't provide free water and coffee...scratch that). In life, we already spend way too much money and time on things we need and need to do, so why not get a little icing on the cake once in awhile?
Anyways, that's why I love the product I chose for my next installment of Trader Joe's Taste Test, their "Authentic French" Cremes Brulees. Not only are they good, but you get a little bonus too. OK, let me get to the actual food first. For being a frozen dessert, they fake the real thing pretty well. No tempering, pouring or mini blow torch needed at all: all you have to do is sprinkle each creme brulee with the included brown sugar packets, broil for 3 minutes and then cool for 10. The caramelization and cooling process creates a delicate and crisp golden brown crust that when tapped open with a spoon, reveals a smooth and creamy vanilla custard underneath. Now are you ready for the cool part--the perks, the bonus, the "French" benefits??? (I know, that's cheesy. Please forgive.) Each of these delicious desserts comes in its own cute-as-a-button glazed terra cotta ramekin that you can wash out after you're done indulging and keep in the cabinet for the next time those pesky houseguests show up unexpectedly! They're perfect for dipping sauces or condiments! Place a few on the table with candy or nuts! Or save them for when you want to actually make real cremes brulees! All this--two yummy desserts and free dishes--for under 5 bucks.
Desserts With Perks!
Sound too good to be true? Well it is true. So stop wasting your time reading blogs and get your ass down to Trader Joes. If not for the food, then at least for the free dishes.
I am going to buy one of those ridiculous Betty Crocker Bake N'Fill cake pans just so I can fuck with people. Imagine bringing a lavishly decorated Bake N'Fill cake to the office. You could decorate it like an Easter hat, or a baseball, or a watermelon, just like on the commercial. All the overweight nosey office ladies and your faaaavorite company kiss-asses would be gathered around as you prepare to share your creation, saying in their most sickening sugary voices, "Oh, that's lovely! That looks just like the one on TV!" And then you would cut it only to reveal that you filled your wonderful epicurean masterpiece with......mayonnaise.Or ketchup.Or gummi worms.Or salmon mousse.Or rice.Oh just think of the possibilities!
Last night, I went to rekindle an old flame. I've been acting kind of stand-offish with my longtime favorite ramen restaurant, Daikokuya, lately. It's been too busy for me. It hasn't made time to fit me into its hectic schedule. So that's why I have been having a bit of a ramen affair: last week, I sought out some new love at Kyushu Ramen, and boy did it rock my ramen world. But then I asked myself, "Is it me?" Is it my own impatience that causes me to turn the other way and deny myself some of Daikokuya's ramen pleasures? What if I'm not being understanding enough? Well as you know, all good lovers keep you coming back for more, so last night I went running back to Daikokuya, but this time on my terms.
That's right, no more of that 8pm on a Friday night or 1pm on a Saturday stuff. I'm sick of dealing with the cattiness of other diners fawning over a table. Yup, from now on I'm going at 6pm on a regular weekday when people are just getting off of work and not thinking about dinner yet. That way, I get it all to myself. (Well, practically)
Hey whatdya know, it worked. We were reunited at about 6:15 last night when I walked through the door and was immediately embraced by available seats. Its limited seating, 6 booths and about 20 or so seats at the counter, is almost always filled up, and its waiting list is always about 5 groups of people deep. Not tonight. I got a booth right away. Hmm, what a nice change.
Greeting me with open arms: empty seats!
A little obligatory small talk at the beginning, a few glances at the menu to see if I'd want anything else (a donburi rice bowl, some gyoza, maybe?), but I was only there for one thing. All this time I'd been yearning inside for a bowl of Daikoku Ramen and for good reason. Hot, steamy, its tonkotsu broth, made by boiling pork bones for almost a full day, is seductive. Its deep, rich flavor and velvety texture pull you in and don't let you go until you slurp up every last bit of chewy ramen noodle, crisp bamboo shoot and bean sprout, and briny soy-sauce boiled egg. And you know I like a little meat on my men, so of course there's the pork--three hunks of melt-in-your-mouth kurobuta pork sporting a thin layer of luscious fat floating on top of my liquid love. When I was finally done with the big black ceramic bowl, it was utter ramen euphoria. Total satisfaction.
Ramen Euphoria
Oh, and whenever I'm down for a little more action, Daikokuya will do it harder. All you have to do is ask--they'll make your broth extra rich by adding an additional ladle of pork fat to your bowl.
This is going to work out, this going to Daikokuya on my terms. I have lots of faith in this relationship. But I don't think I'm gonna call it quits with my boyfriend in the Valley, Kyushu Ramen either. That one shows me a really good time too. Yeah, that's it. I'll just be a ramen player--got me one in the Valley and one Downtown.
As a woman (actually as a diner in this case), you gotta know what you want and know how to get it. No waiting games, no playing second. Yup, call your own shots and set your limits. Trust me, in the end, it'll all be worth it.Daikokuya327 E. 1st St.Los Angeles, CA 90012 (213) 626-1680
I feel like shit today, so I'm not gonna write anything elaborate. Not that anything I write ever is. But anyways, here are some things that may or may not be of interest on and around the web...Chowhound Modernist compiled quite an impressive list of his (I think it's a he) ultimate Los Angeles area restaurants. A good guide to print out and refer to for the next time you and your lover are like, "Where do you wanna go?" "I dunno, where do you wanna go?" Who in their right mind likes to wait in line to use the bathroom? Especially when your enjoying your dinner. You have to excuse yourself, wait outside a usually single stall bathroom with a bunch of other "I'm-about-to-pee-in-my-pants-and-by-the-way-I'm-gonna-scratch-your-eyes-out-if-you-don't-stop-staring-at-my-shoes-Bitch" women. So apparantly, there's a solution to that in Taiwan. I hope they don't serve curry in one of those "toilet" bowls. Link courtesy of my friend Sam. Thanks Sam!Feeling a little bloated after your dinner at Cafe Pinot and don't feel like going back in to the restaurant? Well forget about using the toilet stalls at the downtown public library. According to a post on LA.com, the doors on these suckers are only waist-high to discourage naughty behavior, uh, except maybe for voyeurism from passers-by??? Go figure. Hopefully I'll feel better tomorrow and be able to eat (and write about) something decent.
I am convinced that someone is out to get me. I had to go get a smog check today, so being that there is a Jonathan Gold-recommended restaurant half a block away from the service station, I decided that it would be a great opportunity to drop off the car and walk to Las Palmas Cuban and Spanish Restaurant to have lunch. Dropping off the car was no problem. The problem was the three of us office gals walking in our business attire and heels down Victory Blvd. only to find out that Las Palmas was closed. Completely dark. Not a sign of life. I drove by last night just to check the proximity of the restaurant to the service station. It was open. Jonathan Gold's book, Counter Intelligence, says that this place is open for LUNCH and dinner daily. The hours posted said open from 12-8 Wednesdays. There is a painted sign on the side of the building advertising LUNCH specials. So why the hell wasn't it open for lunch today, Wednesday 5/11, when I, Pam, planned to go? Why? We had to hobble back down Victory past the bus stop o' freaks. Fortunately, Roma Deli was around the corner on Lankershim Blvd. (a.k.a. Skankershim) and was open. But still, why? WHY? At least I passed my smog check.
Tasting of charbroiled pork and fish sauce from the Vietnamese food I had for lunch, my mouth needed a sweet retreat. So I decided to check out the Baklava Factory, a baklava shop (duh) next door.
Baklava Trivia: It's believed that Baklava has its origins from Assyria around the 8th century B.C. Wow, Baklava's older than Jesus. That's amazing. The dessert was spread to other Middle Eastern and Mediterranean civilizations throughout time, and went through many evolutions as it went from culture to culture. As the Greeks got hold of it, the pastry used to make Baklava became thinner and the use of Phyllo (meaning "leaf" in Greek) came into play. Betcha didn't know all that, huh? Good, now go and try to impress all your friends.
I've had baklava a couple of times in my life, always a piece or two given to me by a friend, so I was utterly unaware that there were so many different kinds. That is, until I walked into this small but airy North Hollywood mini-mall storefront where I was greeted a counter full of various miniature phyllo-dough concoctions. Peering through the plexi-glass "sneeze-shields", I pondered the sea of varying golden brown and pistachio green patterns for a moment. Unsure which ones to pick, I figured that for $7.50 a pound, I could get quite a few combinations of phyllo and nuts.
I asked the Baklava Lady to guide me and point out their most popular goods. I walked out with a plastic takeout container filled with a variety of treats...Traditional Walnut and Pistachio Baklava: cubes of phyllo dough layered with ground walnuts or pistachios drizzled with sugar syrup, Baklava fingers: rolled phyllo dough stuffed with ground cashews drizzled with syrup, Birds Nests: little purses of phyllo filled with walnuts or pistachios drizzled with syrup, Ballourie: cubes of kataifi (shredded phyllo) layered with pistachios and drizzled with rosewater, Burma: a shredded phyllo wrapped around chopped pistachios made to look somewhat like a cut sushi roll, and Kataifi Baklava: a Kellogg's Shredded Mini Wheat looking thing made of baked kataifi wrapped around ground pistachios.
Traditional Baklava
Baklava Fingers and Balourie
Birds Nests
Kaitafi Baklava or Kellogg's Mini Wheats?
Honestly, all the baklava kinda tasted the same to me. All were plays on the same few ingredients, each formed a little differently to give slightly different textures. They were all crispy and flaky from the phyllo (I'm still picking the crumbs out of my lap), and really sticky sugary-sweet. Almost too sweet for my taste. Made my cavities hurt. Perhaps this is how dentistry got started too? The Balourie (Baklava drizzed with rosewater) was probably the most unique tasting baklava of the bunch from the addition of rosewater, but it almost tasted like you were eating a bottle of your grandma's perfume. Not for me. The Baklava Fingers were probably my favorite as they were the most delicate and the syrup wasn't as overpowering.
Note to self for next time: eat only one or two pieces and have with black coffee!The Baklava Factory12909 Sherman WayNorth Hollywood, CA 91605(818) 764-1011
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