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You'd think by now I would know his name.
I've paid quite a few visits to this Korean food stall located inside Koreatown's California Market, yet I still don't know what to call it because all the signs are in Korean. Yes, my friends, this is the John Doe of Korean food stalls. Or should I call it John Kim? (Yoo-hoo readers, this is your cue to interject...if you know Korean, please tell me what the hell it's called)
Despite the language barrier, I can tell John Kim is a pretty straightforward kind of guy. There are about 20 things on his menu, all identified by a colorful picture, a number, the price and a description in Korean. There are things I can recognize like bulgogi and daeji bulgogi, kim bap and kimchi jigae. And there are a few things, mostly soup and noodle based items that I've seen before but can't remember the name of or read them for that matter. I go to John Kim everytime, though, for his bibim naeng myun, or spicy cold noodle with beef. "Number 19," I always say to the cashier, pointing to the menuboard picture above.
I wouldn't say it's eyes-roll-to-the-back-of-your-head good or anything, but it's certainly pretty damn decent. When California Market is the last stop on a long Sunday afternoon of dodging crowds and traffic while running errands and grocery shopping, a bowl of this sinus clearing stuff from John Kim is the perfect pick me up.
I always take mine to go because one, I don't want to be seen eating inside California Market and two, because well, where would I leave my cart? Of course I could shop after I eat, but you know, I'm just not that smart. So I bring the to go box home with me, having to endure the smell of red pepper paste, sesame oil and cucumbers the entire car ride.
Mr. Kim is practical--he always wraps my noodles in a plastic bag before it goes into the takeout container, helping to prevent any unfortunate spills in the car and also allowing the ingredients to marinate a little more until I get home. I wish I owned one of those cool metal bowls that these types of noodle dishes usually come in at the restaurants, but I don't, so instead, I dump the bag of noodles into the next best thing--a white Corning Ware bowl with little country prints on the side--and cut the noodles with kitchen shears to make them a little easier to pull apart. And with bowl and a bottled water in hand, I always head over to the TV to enjoy my fiery afternoon meal. I will admit that taking the noodles to go takes slightly away from the perfect chewiness these types of buckwheat noodles, but they do have a pretty good pull regardless. The spiciness is certainly appropriate though--not quite an immediate tongue numbing spiciness, but a spiciness that starts more salty at first, a wonderful blend of red pepper and sesame oil, and then slowly creeps up on you the more you eat--perfect for eating while cussing out all the stupid girls on My Super Sweet Sixteen.
Fifteen to twenty minutes into the meal, I'm all worked up, on one hand sweating because of the noodles themselves, and on the other, shaking my fist at all the underage primadonnas on the screen in front of me. Fortunately for me, there is always a good amount fo cooling acoutrements that always come with bibim naeng myun. There are cooling, thinly sliced cucumbers, as well as julienned pickled carrots and daikon, but what is probably the most unique item in this dish are the paper thin wedges of crisp, sweet Korean pear. Slices of beef and half a boiled egg add lend some neutrality (as well as protein) to the dish.
By the time I'm done, my belly is full and my nose is running, and yet again, I let a man whose name I don't even know make me cry. Thanks alot, John Kim.
John Kim at The California Market
450 S. Western Ave
Los Angeles, CA 90020
Ever since my friend Sam sent me this link the other day, I have felt a newly found sense of empowerment. I thought I was alone in my disgust, but come to find out that there are others, in fact, who are just like me:
"What kind of culinary fascism is this?" -Roving Thundercloud, Portland, OR
"I had the immediate sensation of licking a 9 volt battery" -Rob, Buffalo, NY
"People will say, 'There's cilantro in this? I can't tell, I can't taste it.' That's akin, in my opinion to stating, 'My arm is on fire? Hmm, I can't feel it.' " -Anonymous
"Though I hate cilantro I can acknowledge, but not condone, its existance in culinary dishes of such countries such as Thailand, Mexico, Spain and India to name a few. However, under no circumstances whatsoever should cilantro ever be found in Japanese food. It was such an instance at a local restaurant that I found cilantro in my miso soup. Is nothing sacred?" -Pandora, Austin, TX If you are anything like me, I urge you--please join to support the fight against this vile weed. (Image courtesy of www.ihatecilantro.com)
I gave Joe another chance.
But I should have known better. Penne pasta and sliced chicken breast cooked in a little heating dish at the Trader Joe's sample stand would just not be that good. But I gave it a chance because it surely smelled good as my cart and I turned the corner coming out of the frozen section. So I left my cart off to the side and walked up to the nice lady who handed me a small paper cup into which she had just scooped some of that tomatoey pasta concoction. I saw the stack of jars on the counter: "Hmm, Trader Giotto's Cacciatore Simmer Sauce, eh?" I pranced back to my cart excited to try my sample, and as I pushed along started taking small bites. It was a complete watery mess, tasting as if someone had just boiled the chicken in the sauce and then dumped a bunch of slimy penne into it. There was no depth, no dimension, and undeniably, I walked out of Trader Joe's that day with a cart full of hummus and chips and dip and salad dressings and cheeses and wine but sans Cacciatore Simmer Sauce.
If there's one thing I can recognize in people, places and things though, it's potential. And on another recent trip to TJ's, I realized that I may not have given our little jar of simmer sauce enough of a chance to prove itself. This time, I did walk out of Trader Joe's with a cart full of hummus and chips and dip and salad dressings and cheeses and wine and yes, a jar of Trader Giotto's Cacciatore Simmer Sauce.
The first thing I knew to do on this simmer sauce makeover was to actually brown the meat, (duh) so in went my chicken pieces into my trusty Le Creuset Dutch oven. I took the chicken out after a few minutes, and as the usual demented thought of "How sick do you think I would get if I took a bite out of that chicken right now?" ran through my head, I deglazed my pot with chicken stock, scraping up all the yummy crispy browned bits. I returned the chicken (which I did not take a bite of by the way) into the pot, poured the jar of deep orange red simmer sauce in, added a little salt & pepper and let simmer until the chicken was tender.
For the final reveal, I spooned the some chicken and sauce over a bed of lingune, garnished with a parsley sprig, and violà! You could hardly recognize him! The smokiness and saltiness from the browned chicken bits actually enhanced the celery and olives that were in this tomato based sauce, and the fat off the chicken skin lent the sauce some body. With a little faith (and some proper braising), I turned this ugly duckling into somewhat of a swan.
Pick up your own jar of Extreme Makover DG Edition at your local Trader Joe's for only $2.99.
If anyone had asked me to live in Downtown L.A. fifteen years ago and I would have asked them to pound sand. In fact, if they had asked me only five years ago, I would have done the same. But let's just pretend that this person were a friend who just happened to have a loft hookup and approached me and Isaac three years ago with a sweet deal on a 1400 sq. ft., 14' ceilinged space...
Three years later, we are still living in Downtown L.A.
But to be honest, I don't love it. I don't hate it. But I don't love it either.
I love it because our apartment is so spacious and we're getting a pretty darn good deal on rent. I hate it because living in a big open space isn't all it's cracked up to be. There is no room to retreat to if my fiance suddenly gets on my nerves, and the fact that all our workout equipment is out in the open is simply tacky.
I love that I have all of the Little Tokyo's good eats practically right at my doorstep, but I hate that the act of shopping for decent food and groceries involves at least a ten minute drive. (OK, so there is Mitsuwa and Marukai which are great for Japanese products, but I refuse to buy anything else there unless I'm desperate enough to pay a higher price)
I love that there's some interesting architecture here in downtown, but I hate that crack addicts and homeless people are permanent fixures in my neighborhood. I love that downtown is convenient to the 101, 5, 10 and 110 freeways, but I also hate that my street is a thoroughfare for 18-wheelers. It's kinda cool when you constantly see your 'hood on TV and in the movies, but it is sooo not cool that these production assholes think they own the neighborhood and make you detour an extra 5 blocks just to get home. (No fuck-face, you don't live here, I do.)
I remember my friend driving Isaac and I to see our new building for the first time, and I clearly recall being just a tad freaked out by the surroundings. Am I that much of a priss, you ask? Well really, no, I am not--I spent many years hanging out in big cities where vagrancy is a common thing--I just don't want to see it right outside my window. My knowledge of Downtown L.A. at that time was limited pretty much only to Chinatown, Little Tokyo, the courthouses, the garment district, and the Staples Center; I knew that somewhere in between all of that was the infamous skid row, which isn't where our building is located, thank goodness, but was close enough to our neighborhood to leave visible traces here and there. But as we kept driving, I also started to notice that hip new businesses had taken root in the neighborhood. My mind turned away from the riff-raff (if only even for a few minutes) and to the cool places I had yet to discover. If it hadn't been for places like Cafe Metropol, Pete's Cafe & Bar, Freaks Vintage Clothing, Blooms General Store, Groundwerks Coffee, and Soul Folks Cafe--places that made me feel as if I actually had a neighborhood--I'd have thought twice about moving in.
The loft-living honeymoon is over you might say, but although cursing the inconveniences of living here under my breath has become a normal routine, I still get excited when I discover that a cool new shop or restaurant has opened up in the 'hood. It brings back memories of the wooing and courtship stage when all things loft were fun and exciting, when you'd still call up your friends and say "Hey, wanna come check out my loft?" and people would ooh and aah about the fact that you lived in a converted warehouse. Yes, this is exactly why I got the warm-fuzzies when I first laid eyes on one of downtown L.A.'s newest cool neighborhood businesses, The Bishop Coffee & Gourmet, located on Grand Ave. at 8th. It's one of those places you'd spot as you were driving around as a prospective loft dweller, and it's one of those places that would help you make the deal in that wishy-washy head of yours.
And I'm not just saying this because The Bishop's owner Suze is a dear friend of ours, the same friend, in fact, who got us the deal on the place we're living in now. I'm saying this because it's true. Sure, The Bishop provides local downtown office drones with their daily cup of joe and breakfast pastry, but unlike the hundreds of other coffee houses in the vicinity that provide the same service, The Bishop isn't just your typical shut-down-at-6-and-closed-on-the-weekends-because-all-the-workers-are-gone type of places. For a while, being downtown after hours or on weekends was a bit like being in a live version of Dawn of The Dead, where virtually nothing was open and only the freaks came out at night. But now, places like The Bishop actually cater to us people that live here, helping us remember what civilization was like. Want to grab some coffee and dessert at 11pm on a Saturday night? No problem, they've got it.
Suze hard at work behind her coffee grinder
If it's neighborhood you want, it's neighborhood you get. The Bishop's turquoise blue painted space may be tiny, but it just adds to the cozy neighborhood feel of the place. A mannequin coiffed in jet black braids--a hip, modern version of Gilligan's Island's Maryanne--hangs out on her vintage bicycle on a ledge atop the cafe.
Hey, where's Ginger?
Service here is not only friendly, but personable. All it takes is one repeat walk through their single glass paned door and chances are Suze and daughter Bri will already know you by name. "Tall," "Grande," and "Venti" from that Star place are sooo yesterday; here, you can order your Pasquini latte, cappuccino or espresso in "Pawn," "Bishop," or "King" sizes. You can order your drinks with extra shots, squirts of chocolate or caramel, hazelnut syrup, no foam or non-fat--she'll make 'em for you however you'd like and again, will mostlikely remember what you ordered the next time you come in, or at least remember that your picky, high-maintenace ass wanted something special. If you're like me and coffee's not your thing and tea is more your cup of tea, The Bishop carries an assortment of Harney and Sons teas with such flavors as African Autumn, Chinese Flower, Peaches and Ginger and Indian Spice. Just ask and Suze and staff will let you take a quick whiff of all the yummy tea blends they've got in their tea cannisters before they pour hot water onto your pretty little organza wrapped tea bag of choice.
Wakes me up before I go-go
Tea time!
For breakfast, dessert, and everything in between, The Bishop features breads by La Brea Bakery and pastries from Hollywood's Susina Bakery. The minature molten chocolate cakes have become a staple in our diets as have the bad-for-my-arteries-but-oh-so-addicting sun-dried tomato, caramelized onion and feta croissants. If you're looking for something a bit more substantial, they carry a selection of sandwiches made fresh daily such as curried chicken salad with apples and currants, (my personal favorite), Bri's ham & brie, and genoa salami, pesto & provolone. Grab a seat at one of the brightly colored sidewalk tables and watch the world go by as you enjoy a polenta scone or maybe even a slice of ham and swiss quiche.
When "flaky" is good
I love Curried Chicken Sammiches
Quiche me
But trying to find a friendly neighborhood cafe that's open late night and on weekends isn't your only problem, you downtown dweller, you. No, as a hip urbanite, you've got other problems. You've just been invited to a friend's house for dinner and oh no! you've got nothing to bring for your gracious hosts! There are no extra bottles of wine sitting on your wine rack, and after several scrounging attempts in your cupboards, you can't find a single thing to take with you, unless of course, the canned raviolis you bought from Costco count. And you know they don't, so what do you do? Fortunately for you, The Bishop is half coffee house, half interesting-packaged-foodstuffs store. Your host will definitely appreciate getting a nice basket filled with the likes of Stonewall Kitchen Rasperry Peach Champagne Jam and Maple Vanilla Pear Butter. They can also create quite a nice arrangement with La Favorita Fish and Bella Cucina Artful Food pestos and sauces along with some of the prettiest rainbow striped farfalle. Or perhaps your guests would appreciate a box of the most interesting pyramid shaped silken tea infusers by Tea Forte. The Bishop has Scharffen-Berger chocolate bars, and jars filled with cinnamon bears, candy necklaces, jawbreakers and um, trail mix--probably the only thing I don't quite get about their merchandise assortment, but to each her own I guess.
for all your gourmet needs
Where to buy Rastafarian pasta? Downtown!
Whatever your fancy, it's cool 'cause you don't have to fucking drive to Silverlake just to buy something nice. Hey, you're stuck downtown for at least the next several months until your lease is up right? So you might as well make the best of it, and trust me, The Bishop makes downtown L.A. just that much cooler and more convenient to be in. Almost makes you wanna stay huh?
Well...
The Bishop Coffee & Gourmet
816 S. Grand Ave.
Los Angeles, CA 90017
(213) 239-0411
Aww look, it's baby's first birthday, and my how she's grown!
If Daily Gluttony were a baby, people would surely be throwing her a big party with cake, balloons, and party streamers. She'd be sitting in a high chair while someone took photos of her with baby food smeared all over her face, totally clueless to all the festivities around her. But since Daily Gluttony is not a human baby, there will be no people throwing her a party. There will be no balloons and no streamers. So, in order to celebrate, she will throw a party for herself, complete with cake and candle, and maybe even a glass of wine. That is, of course, if wine is OK for a one year old.
You'd be surprised how many similarities there are between our cuddly, diapered friends and this blog, however. First of all, it seems like just yesterday when Daily Gluttony was conceived out of sheer boredom. (Like that's never happened to anyone before.) And second of all, she has developed quite a bit in just one year. In the beginning, the little tyke was just trying to find her way, and so began her early months with super-random posts about weekend to-do lists, A.D.D. in meetings, mustard whores, grilled cheese sandwiches, and guillotine cars. She couldn't take a decent food photo to save her life. She was also trying to keep up with the pressure of posting daily to live up to her name and at one point even considered changing her name because she thought it was false advertising.
But it wasn't long before Ms. Poopy-Pants started growing up and figuring things out. Her mind matured into a more reasonable one, and her writing during this development stage became a learning process. She learned to take better pictures of her food. (Oh, you mean I just have to use this flower button???) Her already keen epicurean senses soared to different heights as she began to focus on trying cuisines she'd never tried before. Trips to the grocery store began to take twice as long due to wandering eyes scoping out a wealth of new foods and products. And simple drives down the street opened her eyes to a world of undiscovered eats. She came to the full realization that the true meaning of "daily gluttony" was not that she had to post something daily, but that her actual obsession with all things edible is a never ending story and thus, kept her birthname.
Time flies, but it's amazing how much can happen in just a year. With her fiery personality, she's made some enemies, but more importantly, she's made some invaluable friends, even if only through cyberspace. She became engaged to the love of her life, a man who just happens to also be a gnome-killer. She's hired quite an adorable (but drunkard) sous-chef. She got a new job around where she's slowly starting to explore restaurant options, but misses her old stomping grounds and epicurean-parnters-in-crime dearly. She is now the big sister to an alien lemon, and as of 7 days ago, an auntie to a beautful human baby girl.
She also felt like the whole world was crumbling around her when she discovered that her father had cancer, but is learning how to cope with the physical and emotional side effects that are affecting everyone involved. But she has become a stronger person from it--one who has learned that there's nothing more important in life than love.
A year ago, she would have never made a special trip after work just to go buy a slice of cake to photograph for a birthday post. (OK, so it came from Vons for $2.99, so what?) One year and 225 posts later, she would. Happy Birthday, Daily Gluttony...make a wish and blow out your candle!
Thanks alot, Kirk. Thanks alot for fueling my sushi addiction so badly with your post on Sushi Gen that I couldn't stop thinking about sushi for the last three days. What can I say, I'm a sucker for peer pressure.
Except I wasn't get my fix from that sushi dealer. A short supply of seats, it seemed. I called at noon to find out they only had a 5:30 pm reservation available. And we all know what the wait is like at Sushi Gen without a reservation.
By the time evening rolled around, my mind instantly went into search mode, and with shaky fingers I started dialing frantically to find someone nearby who would be able to accomodate me. "Hi, do you have a wait right now???" my voice cracked as I dialed Izayoi, and was told we'd have to wait about 15 minutes. So I had to get my goods from a lesser known, less refined and more inconspicuous guy located down the street who just happened to say they'd be able to take us right away.
The thought of going to Sushi Komasa was like the thought of going to Van Nuys instead of the Hollywood Hills to score. There's nothing to this small, older storefront located on Second Street in Little Tokyo except for a lighted sign on the sidewalk. Its windows are covered with paper screens and though I'd passed by several times, I've never been able to get a good glimpse of anything going on inside. The only clue that maybe they've got decent goods is the constant small crowd of people waiting outside. Oh yeah, that and a positive post from Kirk, our local sushi peer pressure pusher. My skepticism about the place was somewhat quelled by stepping inside the restaurant, which was a rather teeny tiny space with a small sushi bar and about five tables. It wasn't so much the atmosphere because, well, there really is none, but more so because the place was pretty full for a weekday night.
Like the restaurant itself, Komasa's sushi list is pretty no-nonsense, and as is the case with many sushi bars, there were no daily specials that we were aware of. A simple, but comprehensive list was what we got, and we filled it out quickly. Besides sushi, Komasa has a menu of other selections such as appetizers and bento combinations--we chose to try some chicken karaage and fried oysters to go with our sushi.
Feet tapping nervously with sweaty hands clasped under the table, we studied the several seafood posters they had on the wall in order to distract us and make the time go by faster as we waited for our fix. "Hmm," I thought to myself, "now I can be an expert at the different types of crab, and red fish, and shellfish, and...WHAT?? WHY ARE ALL THE FISH NAMES IN JAPANESE??? AND WHY IS EVERYONE AROUND US CHINESE?" At that point, I knew I really needed help. Is there such a thing as S.A.--Sushi Anonymous?
Not very addict-friendly reading
But finally, they delivered the goods. As the waitress placed a round lacquered box of pristine looking nigiri in front of us, self control was key...we want to get the most out of this sensory altering experience, but at the same time, we wouldn't want people to think poorly of us, would we? So with sound body, but very unsound mind, we carefully picked up our first pieces of nigiri, dipped it ever so slightly into our soy sauce and took the first bite. Total euphoria ensued and self control went down the drain.
Komasa deals some good stuff...
Komasa's fish was extremely fresh, breaking into buttery softness with each bite. My favorite was probably the hamachi (yellowtail) whose seductive mellowness reeled me in from the first bite. Thinly sliced scallion and grated ginger atop our seared albacore nigiri as well as the slightly smoky flavor of sake (salmon) sushi provided an interesting edge to the meal. My only complaint was that our maguro tuna was a little too much on the cold side, but with the overall excellent sushi high we were on, it wasn't that big of a deal.
Perhaps it was because we were already in fantastic altered states, but although the dark meat chicken they used to make their chicken karaage was a bit on the dry side, its crispy marbled- looking batter coating had a nice milky saltiness to it and gave it somewhat of an addictive quality. The fried oysters we ordered, however, were just not good--obviously from a jar and a little tough in some parts--and would not be forgiven in spite of our state of mind.
I think they put drugs in this too
Sushi high or not, these sucked
Sushi Komasa is not the clean cut, yuppified sushi dealer that many of us feel more comfortable with based on looks alone; he's is the older guy whose place you have to walk to the back of the 1970's fourplex to get to and that's OK. Because the older, unrefined guys have some pretty good stuff too. And this older guy charges less too...about $50 after tax and tip for all this food. Oh, and one more thing: don't expect to find any of that trendy, designer sushi here, either. Sushi Komasa deals in the traditional stuff that is tried and true. As always, you just have to trust your gut.
I just wonder when the withdrawal is going to kick in.
Sushi Komasa
351 E. 2nd St.
Los Angeles, CA 90012
(213) 680-1792
Either I really have a death wish or I really don't give that much of a hoot about my job because I have an important meeting with the president of our company today at 1 o'clock......and I brought kimchee, amongst other garlicky things, for lunch.Now you tell me, should I do the gum & mints? Or not?
George the Gastro-gnome had a bit too much to drink last night. He went out with the guys and didn't get home until 5:15 am this morning.
Which is why he doesn't have much energy to fulfill his sous-chef duties today. In turn, I decided to keep things simple. I found a broccoli salad mix by Eat Smart at Costco that I thought would go well with some sandwiches.
"George, can you get up for a second so I can show the nice people what the box looks like?"
Hesitantly, George rolled his stumpy little self off the box and staggered off to the side.
"You think you can manage making the broccoli salad while I make the sandwiches? All you have to do is mix everything together," I asked him.
He was on his back, eyes closed, mouth agape. Suddenly he turned his little head, stared at me and said, "Fuck you."
Allrighty then. I guess I'm making lunch by myself.
I guess I should have left poor George alone. All I had to do was mix some broccoli florets, shredded broccoli stalks, carrots and red cabbage, sunflower kernels, bacon bits, dried cranberries. and some sick looking mayonnaise based dressing together and it was done. It was something that was simple enough to put together myself, but everything came in a nice little box for $5.99, and it was perfect for a day like today where convenience was key. The dish was reminiscent of a cole slaw but more texturally interesting because of the broccoli florets, nuts, and cranberries, and also had a nice smoky tinge from the addition of bacon bits.
"George, do you want some?"
No answer.
"George??"
He'd disappeared from the kitchen and into the bathroom where the horrors of last night's festivities were coming back to haunt him. I guess I'll have to save a plate for him. Poor guy.
Correct me if I'm wrong, but I do think I have a pretty good command of the English language. Uh, that is until I've eaten at the second restaurant in two weeks whose name contains the word "corner" and isn't located on a corner.
Now that I think about it, maybe it was those stupid Princeton Review SAT classes that my mother sent me to when I was in high school. Yeah, the Princeton Review. For SAT's. Where every Saturday morning for like two months we'd go to this community center in Berkeley and listen to this hippie chick with hairy armpits talk about the best ways to use process of elimination. They did teach us some Latin word roots, but my thing about vocabulary is that if you don't know it, you don't know it. Like they're really going to teach you the whole dictionary in 30 hours of class.
"Do you guys know what a conflagration is?" Hippie Chick asked.
The class looked puzzled.
"It's just a big mother fucking fire!" she exclaimed.
I'll give Hippie Chick credit for that, because to this day I've never forgotten what a conflagration is.
OK, so though I've done quite a bit of reading in my lifetime, vocabulary has never been my strong suit. I don't like to use it; in fact, I think my brain has a natural block towards big, flowery words. Hey, but I did score in the 1300's on my SAT's, not too shabby, huh? Unfortunately, it wasn't enough to get me into what the Chinese call See-tahn-faht (Stanford) or Hah-fuht (Harvard). Sorry Mom, I know you meant well. But I did manage to get into UCLA, right? And I know what a conflagration is!
Well you'd think that I'd know what a corner is too. Because that word is not too fancy. Last week, I tried to make some sense of a Korean resaturant's claim that it was "The Corner Place," when it was undoubtedly not located on a corner. This time, I visited a fairly new restaurant in Thai Town named Red Corner Asia that only scored two out of three on first impression. Because it's Asian, but it's not red, and it's not on a corner or in a corner. Perhaps it was called such because it has corners?
If it wasn't my vocabulary that improved after going to Princeton Review and college, then at least I can say that I developed a some impeccable research skills and a fine knack for getting to the bottom of things. It would be this same knack that would lead me to the restaurant's website where I would finally find some truth. Here's what it said:
Red represents love, good fortune, Thai red chilies and the red-hot flame of our BBQ grill.
Corner is a place to sit and relax in comfort with friends and family.
Asia comes from our unique blend of Asian foods that you will love at RCA.
Red Corner Asia (RCA) is a place for you and your loved ones to relax while enjoying the finest Thai and Asian dining experiences.
OK, see? Explanations! That's all I ever asked for!
But it wasn't like I didn't enjoy my dining experience at Red Corner Asia. I'm just a little obsessive freak, that's all. In fact, I've been there three times in the last few weeks if that tells you anything.
When Isaac and I go out to dinner together, we sometimes want atmosphere and good service, and hence, we know we have to pay a higher price for it. Other times, we want our bill to total less than 15 bucks and so going to a dumpy-dive is OK. What's cool about Red Corner Asia is that there's somewhat of an atmosphere and great service all for a little more than dumpy-dive prices. Located in Thailand Plaza, a mini mall that's home to such places as Ruen Pair, the Thai dessert place Bhan Kanom Thai, and the old home of singing Thai Elvis' Palms Thai, Red Corner Asia is the perfect location for a cheap date. The clean and spacious interior is painted in warm, contemporary tones. Dim lighting during dinner and the soft sounds of bossa nova or crooner vocals even make the place somewhat romantic, at least by Thai Town standards. Now you know I like the typical Asian greasy spoon as much as the next guy, but it's always nice to have options when you just don't feel like dealing with oil slicked floors, sticky menus or grease-filmed tables.
Your Not-So-Typical Thai Town joint
Speaking of sticky menus, two pages of mine were stuck together the first night we tried Red Corner Asia, and not two seconds later, a waitress zipped by to bring me a new menu and to apologize for the condition of the first one. The restaurant's owner, a really pleasant mannered Thai gentleman, also made sure to ask if we enjoyed our visit as we were getting ready to leave. He obviously didn't recognize me the second time I went to the restaurant to pick up a takeout order because he asked me if it was my first time at the restaurant, but no matter--the point is that he cared to ask, right? And as if they didn't already win the "Wow-No-One-is-Ever-This-Nice" award, they even brought me an ice water as I waited for my order. On our most recent visit, they gave us nothing less than decent service, and yet apologized to us for the slow service due to being short staffed. Now normally I'm skeptical of people that are too nice, but I've observed the folks at Red Corner Asia interacting with their customers and they're actually just...nice. Imagine that.
The food here isn't the best Thai food I've ever had, but it's pretty darn decent. I'd give their pad thai about a B+ which is an outstanding accomplishment in itself because you'd be surprised how many places fuck up such a simple dish. Red Corner Asia's had a good balance of sweet and sour flavors as well as a good ratio of noodles to other ingredients (meat, or in my case, fried tofu, as well as peanuts, beansprouts, etc.). I only wish the dish was just a smidgen more on the dry side. But that's just me, and all in all, they do a pretty good pad thai.
This earned a 3.3 GPA
As is with all Thai restaurants that offer a "choice of meat" with their a la carte items, the quality of the meat is always so-so, it's whatever's around the meat that you have to pass judgement on. Not surprisingly, the beef that we chose to go in our panang curry was a tad on the tough side, but the sauce itself was delicious. Along with the choice of meat, Red Corner Asia also gives you a choice on their spicy foods as to how how spicy you want it. We ordered this dish "medium spicy" and were quite pleased at the nice kick that the creamy coconut-milk based curry had.
Panang-alang-a-ding-dong
"But why don't you want it spicy???" I whined to Isaac as he ordered a fried rice. I wanted the restaurant's Spicy Fried Rice with chili & basil, but as we had already ordered the panang curry, he wanted something a little more tame, and so I let him order a regular combination fried rice. The rice was fluffy and seasoned well, the pieces of chicken and pork were tender and the shrimp were pretty plump. A little generic I'll say, but it was good in a very basic kind of way.
Keep it simple, stupid
With the restaurant's papaya salad with blue crab, though, I got my wish as far as spiciness is concerned. It was the first time I'd ever tried green papaya, a food that I'd been very hesitant to try since yellow papaya has always smelled and tasted like ass. My brother was the one to reassure me otherwise. "No, trust me," he said, "green papaya is nothing like yellow papaya. It does not taste like ass." I also ordered this dish medium spicy and thank goodness I ate it at home because what I got was a conflagration in my mouth. But I kept eating it and eating it because it was just so damn good--refreshing, crunchy shreds of papaya, long beans, and a wedge of cabbage tossed with chiles, fish sauce, dried shrimp and whatever it is that they use for heat. The raw blue crab was fresh and whatever bits of crab meat we had the patience to pick out were good, but we could have done without it. Nothing against the crab; we're just lazy. By the time we were done, I think I had downed two huge glasses of water. Talk about a huge mother fucking fire.
Apparently, this is what a conflagration looks like
As with their pad thai, I wish their chicken pad kee mao and Chinese broccoli with crispy pork were a wee bit less on the saucy side. I also wish they offered their pad kee mao with ground chicken rather than regular slices of meat; I like the contrast between the little tasty bits of meat and the wide sheets of spicy noodle and chunks of bell pepper better. Despite the lack of ground chicken option and the slight oversaucing, their pad kee mao was nevertheless tasty. Same thing with the Chinese broccoli dish...the chunks of fried pork belly were perfect--fried to hardened perfection on the outside and revealing a nice smoky tenderness on the inside, a layer of crispy but luscious fatty skin to top it all off. Having that wonderful slight bitterness, the Chinese broccoli was the perfect combination of crunchy and leafy. And the sauce...well, it was perfect for eating with warm and fragrant jasmine rice, but the amount was in my opinion just over the "little too much" mark. I had to drain some of it out of the take out box when I got home. It made for one hell of a tasty leftover lunch the nest day though.
Oooh, saucy...
And you are quite saucy yourself
What I wasn't too thrilled with were the restaurant's angel wings (sorry, no picture!) of deep fried boneless chicken wings stuffed with glass noodle, ground pork and onion. The wings definitely looked better than they tasted, and they tasted, well, bland. A few swipes in the dish of bright red sweet & sour sauce helped but not by much.
Red Corner Asia's menu is pretty comprehensive and even includes some "Thai with a twist" dishes such as Kung Pao Pasta, Thai Style Sukiyaki, and a dish they call Volcano Chicken which consists of a whole roasted chicken served on a flaming platter--a chicken conflagration of sorts. I don't know if I'll be trying these anytime soon--I think I'll stick to the more traditional Thai dishes--but it's nice to know they're available.
I could go on and on with words and descriptions about this place, but all I have to say is that after three visits with tasty food and excellent service, Red Corner Asia is a pretty fucking good deal. Is there a word for that?
Red Corner Asia
5267 Hollywood Blvd.
Los Angeles, CA 90027
(323)466-6722
www.redcornerasia.com
I remember it clearly, though perhaps not so fondly. It was March 17, nineteen seventy-mbghppphr, and I was being pinched to death at laughed at by my second grade classmates because I didn't wear green for St. Patrick's Day. In order to save me from more physical and mental bruises, my teacher was nice enough to cut a square of green construction paper and pin it to my sweater. "It's St. Patrick's Day, dear, you have to wear green otherwise you'll get pinched!" I wondered why my mother hadn't told me this when she helped me get ready for school that morning, and when approached about it after I got home that afternoon, she was more clueless than I was.
I forgave my mother because even though I was a little tyke, it was obvious to me that this was just another one of those Western traditions that my old school Chinese parents just didn't follow. We had all the Chinese New Year bases covered, that's for sure. I had all of those traditions pounded into my head since birth, but St. Patricks Day? Eh, not so much.
So it came as a big surprise, then, when Mom & Dad busted out with the corned beef and cabbage on the same day that their kid endured a torture that would scar her for the rest of her life. I'd never had it before, so curiously, I asked about the hunk of pink meat and cabbage wedges that sat in the Corning Ware on the table. "It's corned beef and cabbage," they explained, "people eat it for St. Patrick's Day."
Huh???
So let me get this straight. You let your kid go to school green-less so as to be harassed by mean children, you've never heard of the wearing green thing, but you do know about corned beef and cabbage? Talk about being scarred for life.
I ate the dish of confusion with trepidation, but liked it, the fatty, salty meat blending so well with the leafy texture of the boiled cabbage. Of course, our family ate it with rice, which was perfect after the grains had soaked up some of the juice from the brisket. As years went by, I never, ever forgot to wear green on St. Patrick's Day again, my family continued the annual tradition of cooking their corned beef and cabbage dinner, and I came to figure out that it was not so much St. Patrick's Day that they were celebrating, but the fact that corned beef brisket and cabbage are dirt cheap the week of March 17th. The whole family was fed well for like 2 bucks and that, my friends, is always reason for celebration.
As I grew older and started living on my own, I continued the tradition of cooking corned beef and cabbage every St. Patrick's Day for a group of friends. This year, of course, was no different except for the fact that we cooked our brisket two days after the fact due to our recent busy schedules. I didn't even get a chance to go shopping for my annual dinner until last Thursday the 16th, and pulled my hair out driving around Alhambra trying to find a brisket. Albertsons was sold out, the Alhambra Vons had closed down permanently, and third store, Max Foods--some ghetto grocery store on Valley--finally had what I was looking for. And it wasn't even the cheaper, $0.69/lb point cut brisket...that had sold out and all they had left was the $1.99/lb flat cut brisket. I had a tradition to uphold, so it would have to do. With two heads of cabbage at $0.25/lb, I still got out of the market for under ten bucks, but was a little bummed that I couldn't do it for under 5 or six dollars like I normally do. Geez, the influence parents have on you!
Corned beef and cabbage is probably one of the easiest meals to make. Just put the bloody brisket into a large pot with the enclosed seasoning packet, cover with water, bring to a boil, and reduce heat to simmer for about 2 hours or until tender, adding water if needed. Remove brisket from water and "dry out" in a 300 degree oven for about 10 minutes. Meanwhile, add cabbage wedges to brisket water and boil until tender.
Bloody brisket anyone?
Although I did make a pot of rice to go with the dinner, I cooked some roasted red potatoes seasoned with olive oil, dijon mustard, garlic, rosemary and thyme for the starch part of the meal. The crispy skinned potatoes provided some nice body to round out this ultimate comfort meal.
You say potato, I say cheap dinner
Isaac and our friends were very satisfied, and me even more so because I was able to feed five people for about ten bucks, keeping the family tradition very much alive.
Should I even be participating in this "unlucky number" game? Well, I'm not that superstitious, so here goes:
Four Jobs I've Had In My Life In L.A.:
1) UCLA dorm cafeteria worker--pure slavery. How dare they put a petite 5'3" girl on "pots duty" by herself? Fuckers.
2) Retail Bitch
3) Information Systems Lackey
4) Merchandise Planning Ho
Four Movies About LA I Could Watch Over And Over:
1) Swingers
2) L.A. Story
3) Clueless
4) Go
Four Places I've Lived All Over L.A.
1) Westwood--when it was still happening and Contempo Casuals was in the Eurochow dome
2) Culver City/Palms
3) Koreatown--aah, how I miss the sound of the tamale lady and the produce truck
4) Downtown--cool, but not as cool as everyone thinks
Four LA-Themed Shows I Love(d) To Watch:
1) Six Feet Under
2) Curb Your Enthusiasm
3) Beverly Hills 90210 (shut up, you know you watched it too)
4) Three's Company (so what if the Regal Beagle didn't really exist?)
Four Places I Would Vacation At In LA:
1) Are you kidding me???
Four L.A. Based Websites I Visit Daily/Frequently:
1) Franklin Avenue
2) The mouthwatering food blogs on my blogroll
3) Los Anjealous 4) Go Fug Yourself (not necessarily LA based, but its about fugly celebs so it's gotta be at least 90% LA, right?)
Four Of My Favorite Foods Found In LA:
1) Daikoku Ramen and gyoza at Daikokuya, Little Tokyo
2) Hummus and cabbage salad at Skaf's Lebanese Grill in North Hollywood
3) Diddy Riese cookies in Westwood
4) Chinese broccoli w/ crispy pork belly at Swan Thai, North Hollywood
Four Places In LA I Would Rather Be Right Now:
1) Back in the Valley having lunch with my old work chums.
2) At UCLA, if I were learning. I miss academia.
3) Anywhere near the water as long as it's clean and not crowded.
4) My house.
I think everyone's already been tagged for this, so I'm leaving that alone. Thanks Yoony of immaeatchu for tagging me!
OK, what the fuck. Over the last few weeks nothing but wierd-ass shit has been happening to me. Like what? Like alien lemons, a massive cold that just came out of nowhere, jacked up chicken recipes, mighty good izakaya that didn't fit on my table, a horrible dining experience with the punks over at Dolce Enoteca, the list goes on and on. And if that wasn't enough, I just found out that yet another friend of mine has decided to pack up and move to San Francisco. He's actually the fourth friend of ours in like three months that has made the decision to leave sunny LA and relocate to the fog-one-minute-blinding-sun-the-next-I-can't-make-up-my-mind-if-it's-going-to-be-warm-or-cold-City-By-The-Bay. Go figure.
This soon-to-be-LA-ex-Pat had some explaining to do, so we met up with him and two other friends at a place that, not surprisingly, had an unexplainable name.
Though one could say that The Corner Place is located in some sort of plaza that is technically on the corner of South Street and Gridley Avenue in Cerritos, the restaurant itself is not on the corner. There is a bank on the corner. And however you want to look at it, The Corner Place is behind or next to the bank. So if there were no pre-set plaza, and The Corner Place were all by its lonesome, it would not be on the corner. It would be one or two places down from the place on the corner. But it would not be the corner place. And yet somehow, it is The Corner Place.
Or maybe I was just thinking too much into it. Which is why instead of pulling my hair out I decided just to go with the flow and enjoy a nice dinner out with fiance and friends.
With its 70's brown boothed interior, it's obvious that this supposed "Corner Place" (OK, OK, I'll stop it...) used to be some sort of family friendly coffee shop like Coco's or Denny's in the past, and really, you wouldn't really know it was a Korean restaurant if you didn't notice the the grill plates on the tables or that the hostess greets people in Korean. Our friend took care of all the ordering for the five of us, meaning the rest of us spent less time looking over their menu and more time grilling our San Francisco-resident-to-be friend about why he's straying. It wouldn't have been difficult, though, to grill him and peruse the menu at the same time as the menu is pretty no-nonsense Korean, offering a small but comprehensive variety of meats to barbeque, jigaes, bibim bap, mandoo, pa jeon and other popular dishes.
How do you say Coco's in Korean?
Aside from its name (what????), The Corner Place makes things even easier by offering a couple of combo dinners for four which offer meat choices, some type of side dish and two large Hite beers for under sixty bucks. Bulgogi (sliced beef rib eye) and Dak Bulgogi (chicken) were our meats of choice for Combo #1, and were decent, especially when dipped into the little dishes of sesame-salty oil or eaten with the tangy shredded lettuce and scallion salad on the table. Panchan was plentiful: little dishes of things I kinda know the name of like baechu (napa cabbage) kimchi, oi (cucumber) kimchi, kong namul moo chim (seasoned bean sprouts), moo saeng chae (seasoned daikon)--and others that I really don't know the names of like seasoned seaweed, boiled cubes of potato, seasoned cubes of gelatin, and broccoli with a thousand island-like dressing--blanketed the table.
The meat made sense, I guess
A virtual wallpaper of panchan
A warm bowl of mu woo gook, or beef and radish soup, was good for the soul (and my sinuses!) on a chilly March evening, but an order of kimchi jigae was even better! The spicy reddish-orange stew of kimchi, pork and tofu boiled and bubbled inside a mini black cauldron. The stew is eaten by dumping a few spoonfuls of rice into the bowl and scooping heaps of the hearty concoction into your mouth with a big spoon which I totally love because it makes me feel like a kid again, and who doesn't like that?
Oh Stewy Night...
But perhaps the best part of our dinner were the bowls of cold noodles that came at the end of the meal. I can't remember the name for the life of me, but I can tell you how the noodles that our waitress graciously cut and divided up into individual bowls were taut and chewy, that they sat in a cold clear gingery broth that was flecked with scallion and chiles and that the dish did a great job of rounding out a meal that was otherwise packed with heat.
Cold, but not as cold as San Francisco
The Corner Place provided not an excellent, eyes-roll-to-the-back-of-your-head meal but a pretty decent one, so despite the its misleading name (yeah, so I opened my big fat mouth about it again, so what?), everything made sense. Now as for our friend leaving us, well, I'm not so sure. I mean, like he needs a job or anything. The Corner Place19100 Gridley AvenueCerritos, CA 90703(562) 402-8578
Relax, I haven't forgotten about you. I've just been taking some time off to visit my family, recover from a heinous fucking cold, and plan a wedding. I'll be back next week with more posts, I promise. In the meantime, here's something to tie you over: I'm at my parents' house again this weekend and believe it or not they're still keeping the alien lemon in captivity. So I decided to go Roswell on it in order to get to the bottom of things.
And no, there is no "fruit" in the "fingers."
Having witnessed the most mutant looking lemon I've ever seen in my life, I am now convinced that my parents breed aliens in their backyard.
I should know. I'm one of them.
When a recipe for "Chicken and Garlic Stew," better known as Chicken With 40 Cloves of Garlic, tells you to simply add all the ingredients to your dutch oven and start simmering, you've got to know that something is deathly wrong.
But I was a dumbass and trusted the recipe in Mark Bittman's How To Cook Everything instead of trusting my gut. I've produced quite a few recipes from this no nonsense cookbook with success, so I thought "Why not?"
This "supposed braising" recipe required no browning, no deglazing, and asked for only a half cup of liquid to support a 3 lb. chicken. But since Mark seems to know what he's talkin' 'bout, I followed, mixing the cut up chicken, olive oil, parsley, cinnamon, salt, pepper, forty or so cloves of unpeeled garlic, and about 3/4 cup of liquid (oooh, I diverged!) to the pot.
When I lifted the cover, what I saw was a nasty boiled/steamed chicken dinner. I left the cover off and tried to reduce it to get a little browning going, but the chicken remained tasteless and lifeless and I am now kicking myself in the ass. I will say that the softened garlic cloves were good, and I was able to at least make a meal out of spreading them on pieces of crusty baguette.
I am not posting the recipe for obvious reasons!
There's a reason they call small plates "small plates" and that's because they're, well, small.
Or so you'd think.
Because before we our food came to the table at Musha in Santa Monica, we thought our plates would take up as much space as "normal" izayaka restaurants. Read on...
My eyes lit up when Sarah from The Delicious Life announced that the theme for this month's Dine & Dish would be "Amazing Graze," a.k.a. a small plates free-for-all, because I love small plates meals. No matter what I choose, whether it be Spanish tapas, Chinese dim sum or Japanese izakaya, amongst others, I'm able to try a wealth of flavors and textures--usually for the price of what I'd normally pay for a couple of normal sized plates!
I'd always heard good things about the more modern and innovative, somewhat fusiony izakaya at Musha, so we decided to give it a whirl. The restaurant, located on Wilshire Boulevard in Santa Monica, was small and packed on a Saturday night. Fortunately, we had reservations so we were seated pretty much right away at a small table for two.
As with most small plates restaurants, Musha's menu gave me a headache because of all its choices. There is alot to read in Musha's menu as they give detailed descriptions of each dish so we undoubtedly took longer than usual to make our choices. There was a specials page written in Japanese calligraphy, a cold kitchen and hot kitchen section, a "tofu world" section, a salad section, grill sections, a starch page with rice and noodles...our heads were spinning.
I've got a menu, and it's got Excedrin written all over it
Now the dish sizes at other izakaya joints, say Haru Ulala or Furaibo, average about 5"x7" or maybe 6-8" diameter and flat for the most part. I already said that Musha distinguishes itself from the others by its "izakaya with a fusiony twist," but what also sets Musha apart from the others, at least in our book, was the fact that we couldn't cram what we thought would be small plates onto our small table. Had we known the dishes would arrive almost at the same time, we would have ordered one by one.
The first dish to arrive was our sashimi combination or albacore, maguro tuna and salmon which sat on a 9" square platter. Including the 2.5 inch soy sauce dipping plates into which we dipped the surprisingly fresh and buttery soft fish, plus the pot of tea, bottle of Kirin and glasses we had on the table, we were still safe but knew we had to be wise with our space.
Our first space hog
Up next, a 10" diameter glass bowl of sesame green bean salad containing crisp green beans tossed with a creamy sesame dressing and bacon bits and dressed up with shredded radish and pea shoots all in a giant fried wonton shell. This larger-than-expected salad was delicious, crisp and cool while being rich and luscious at the same time. Ain't no way we were going to finish that one all at once. It was so good we had to make it last. But I think we were heading into the trouble zone by doing so.
They gave us enough, but we couldn't get enough
Because not two minutes later, our waitress pushed a metal cart up next to our table and unloaded a flaming hot charcoal grill and a plate of raw beef tongue on to it.
The shichirin grill, which was approximately an 8" cube, was a cute little clay contraption inscribed with Japanese characters and topped with a grill grate. We could see the charcoal, which according to the menu is bincho charcoal, a "non-odor charcoal," glowing through small holes on the side of the grill. We used it to grill the tanshio, or thin slices of seasoned beef tongue which, when done, were squirted with lemon and swished in a sesame oil based sauce. While the taste was good, the texture was better--meaty yet having that slightly spongy quality that only tongue can have. And because we had to grill a couple of pieces at a time, we were at this point pretty much out of table space. I don't know why we didn't tell them to slow down; I think we were just speechless from the good food!
We had to start building upwards due to over population
As if they couldn't fit any more stuff on our table, a 12" oblong plate of negitoro croquettes arrived next. I think they had taken away the plate on which the sashimi sat by this time, but with a firey grill and all the other stuff that was on our table, we still felt cramped. And this time, I actually opened my mouth and said something. "OK, no more food!" I giggled to our waitress, who giggled back with a nod. I loved this dish of breaded and deep fried minced tuna, green onion, garlic, pepper, and hijiki seaweed. The tuna mixture was downright tasty and despite its ground texture, held together really well inside its perfectly crisp panko shell. Each bite was made even better by the addictive daikon mayo dipping sauce on the side. This sauce, cool and creamy while enhanced by that funky salty daikon flavor, was so good that when we finished the croquettes, I kept the sauce so that I could dip pieces of the fried shell from our green bean salad into it. And how big was that cup of sauce? Like an inch and a half diameter, I think. Obviously we were getting nowhere with this space clearing thing.
They sat on the edge and took us over the edge
Fortunately, we managed to finish off the tanshio so away went the grill and the plate on which the beef tongue came, freeing up about a foot and a half of space. We still had one dish left to go so this was a good thing. A few minutes later the cart pulled up alongside us once again, this time holding a big hollowed-out round of parmesan cheese and a small pot of Musha's signature risotto. Our waitress emptied the risotto into the block of cheese and started tossing it as if it were a salad. She then scooped the creamy rice onto a plate and left the plate and not the huge block of cheese with us. (Imagine that!) The risotto showed off Musha's fusiony side--it was Japanese in the use of Japanese brown rice and soy milk, and was Italian in cooking method as well as in the use of proscuitto bits and parmesan cheese. It's flavors worked really well together, but it was a little on the heavy side, especially as a final dish.
Oh please don't put that on the table too
*Whew* just the plate, thank goodness
Finally we were done and able to comfortably stretch our arms out on the table. Despite the lack of foresight on Musha's part to pace our dishes so as to not cramp our table, we had an excellent experience here. We will definitely return to test out some of their other specialties like the spicy tuna dip or cheese tofu or kabocha pumpkin croquette. I guess you could consider Musha's style "izakaya on light steroids" as they serve slightly pumped up flavors and portions. The only delicate thing we got that evening? The cute little bag of Japanese candy they hand their patrons as they walk out. Our damage was $75 with drinks, tax and tip--not bad considering our table was always filled to the rim.
Musha
424 Wilshire Blvd.
Santa Monica, CA 90401
(310) 576-6330
(additional location in Torrance)
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