Stumptown

So I was up in Portland for a few days and felt the need to share.

Last time I was in Rip City was a whirlwind stop several years ago and I did not have the time the fully digest the culture but here's what I remember: ironic facial hair, provincial peeps, trees and beer.  What's interesting is that nothing has changed in the above description and given that I should have been treated to ridiculously hyped up cuisine and culture that in reality is thoroughly average...yet the opposite proved to be true.  Let me explain:

On the outside, Portland reminds me of San Francisco.  In SF, everyone dresses the same, listens to the same music and praises the same restaurants.  If you don't subscribe to the list, you might as well be from a leprosarium.  While I respect the idea of the narrow-minded, powerful opinion - the basic fact of the matter is that with few exceptions, San Franciscans are culture morons who haven't said hello to good taste since Reagan was the HNIC.

You get my drift.  I was expecting mediocrity from The City of Roses.  Instead here's what I got:

First stop was Ha VL, a Vietnamese noodle joint on SE 82nd that Charlie (and old friend in these parts and a recent transplant to Portland) suggested I try.

Perusing the menu I quickly settled on the daily special, the yellow flat noodle soup - and how could I not have with the following listed as ingredients: steamed shrimp with coconut juice, baby pork ribs, steamed pork ham, shredded shrimp, rice cake and yellow noodles topped with mixed veggies and roaster peanuts.

A little too oily, but overall fairly delicious.  After wolfing it down, I had a very pleasant conversation with the proprietor, Christina.  She told me her story of being a boat refugee from Vietnam and eventually settling in Portland 30 years ago.  She's had this joint for a few years now, and judging from the fact that it was pretty crowded by the time I left, it seems like she's doing well with it.

Sunday night was Pok Pok with Charlie, Hayden and Naomi.  Chuckles has been talking this place up since he moved up north for six months now.  And boy was I prepared to hate it.  Some white dude who spends a few years travelling around SE Asia trying out street food starts up a stall that gets embraced by the hipsters and soon after opens a brick and mortar that becomes beloved by the so-called culinary gurus.  The value of being a cynic is that when your presumptions turn out to be dead wrong, a special type of blissfulness sets in.  Which is exactly what happened throughout my meal at Pok Pok.  Fried catfish over vermicelli, wild prawns baked in a clay pot with pork belly and of course the famous fish sauce chicken wings.  This is quality, quality food at the highest level.  In fact, I was so elated afterwards that I was talked into going to Stripparaoke at Devil's Point (a mistake).

In case I haven't mentioned it round these parts, I don't much believe in breakfast served Stateside.  I mean sure, every now and then I'ma need of a breakfast bagel from the Bagel Broker on Beverly or H and H in NYC, but generally speaking no one west of the Atlantic ocean really knows how to slow cook scrambled eggs.  Steak and eggs?  Honestly, what the fuck is that?  So color me awestruck when I discover the best breakfast I've had since the three star (and 200 Euro) one I had at the Plaza Athenee shortly after Alain Ducasse took over the kitchen almost 10 years ago is located at some place called Tasty n Sons in Portland.

Marvel at the following - Burmese red pork stew with short grain rice and eggs two ways:

Shaksuka - red pepper and tomato stew with baked eggs and merguez sausage:

Polenta and sausage ragu with mozzarella and fried egg:

And finally breakfast dessert, biscuits and berries:

Hot frikkin damn this imaginative grub was good.  The amazing part was that even though the above seems like the breakfast equivalent of watching an Ingmar Bergman film dead sober, it didn't feel nearly as heavy as a prototypical oily eggs and sausage breakfast does.  It boggles my mind that an epic breakfast like this can't be found in Los Angeles.  People embrace The Griddle and Home?  Unreal.  The only thing that comes close is the delicious Jar sunday brunch, but even that has half the inspiration and twice the price of the Tasty n Sons menu.

Last but not least, drove out to the Oregon coast and tried out the Bandon Fish Market in Old Bandon town.

Sampled the Alaskan halibut and the Dungeness crab and bay shrimp cocktail.  Not mind-blowing but pretty damn good.  Specially that fresh Dungeness...mmmm.

So, to review...Stumptown = awesome.  Expectations blown completely out of the water.  And I haven't even mentioned the three hours I spent grazing the literate buffet at the institution that is Powell's Books.  The evening I relived my childhood at Ground Kontrol.  Hiking through Forest Park, the largest forested city park in the nation.  Can't wait to get back.

HA VL
2738 SE 82nd Blvd, Suite 102
503-772-0103


Pok Pok
3226 SE Division St.
503-232-1387


Tasty N Sons
3808 N. Williams
503-621-1400


Bandon Fish Market
249 1st St. SE
541-347-4282

Fo sizzle...or not

Today was the soft launch of the Lardon truck.  Yes you would be correct in assuming that even though I poop on gourmet food trucks in general and have learned my lesson all too well in attending soft openings, I nevertheless was tracking with great anticipation the launch of something named after one of my favorite pastimes, cubing the grill with pork fat.

Well...you know when anticipation actually pays off and you realize that the third moon of Venus is perfectly aligned or some shit?  This wasn't that at all.  Yes, it was a soft opening, and yes, I showed up towards the end of their session but after the first bite I was checking Twitter to see if Ricky was serving today so I could get some real food.

I ordered the BLT.  A very nice man donning a Dodgers hat asked if I wanted the baguette toasted.  Sure.  Five minutes later, a very nice woman asked if I wanted my baguette toasted.  Why not?  Ten minutes later (and mind you, it wasn't as if the truck was swamped with orders, there was myself and one other person there), the woman apologized, informing me the fryer had gone on the fritz and that it would be a few more minutes.  Soon thereafter (and I swear the following to be true), Dodgers dude asked if I wanted the baguette toasted.  It was at this point when I began to wonder if the Lardon truck was run by the relatives of Corky from Life Goes On.


All the above would have been forgiven if the sando came out right.  Unfortunately, it arrived.  A slightly warm (the only evidence of any type of toasting) baguette carried with it three measly strips of peppered bacon, some soggy relatively ripe tomatoes, a slice of blue cheese and about ten pieces of Bibb lettuce (seemingly to make it feel as if there was something actually IN this sandwich they were charging $6 for).  


I'm trying to give them some type of benefit of something as it was the soft opening combined with my late arrival (and not to mention the sympathy points they get for being retarded), but really Lardon truck = fail.  Sorry kids.

Yes...

...it's been over two months since my last post.  No, I do not have a particularly good excuse.

But I figured I would spend the next 30 seconds of your life telling you what to do.  I have been to Palate Food and Wine several times.  I went again last night.  Each time I'm anticipating a disaster, and instead I'm treated to a meal even better than the last. Go.  Get the potted lamb in a mason jar.  Get the pickled green tomatoes.  Get the semi-carpaccio scallops on zucchini.  And let them serve you whatever wine they want to.  Seriously, get off your ass, quit whining about driving out to Glendale and GO.

Palate Food and Wine
933 South Brand Boulevard
8181-662-9463

Wolfgang Puck and Casa Bianca

What on earth do the proper nouns contained within the subject heading of this blog have to do with each other?   Not much is the answer, but last Friday the daughter and I had encounters with both.

I could lie and say the day was catered around taking the daughter to the Kidspace museum in Pasadena.  Truth be told, however, it was really an excuse for us to go to Casa Bianca, a great pizza joint that I hadn't frequented for years and had been meaning to get back to since J. Gold included their sausage pizza as one of the 99 Things to Eat in L.A. Before You Die.  But let's start off with the beginning of the day.

The Kidspace museum has fallen on hard times.  A year or two back, it was a great place to take your young un for climbing, exploring and learning about such terrifying things as tarantulas, beetles and earthquakes in a fun and playful way.  Perhaps it was the weekday (we were almost the only ones there), but things seemed pretty run down and the "educators" who used to thrill kids with their tales of the the worker bees in the beehive now seemed to have walked straight out of a Chuck Palahniuk novel.  I didn't think things could get any worse, but that's when we discovered the Nestle Cafe by Wolfgang Puck Catering.

Now don't get me wrong, it wasn't as if I was expecting four or even one star food to be served up by WP catering.  When I used to work on the Sony lot, I remember how everyone thought that when WP catering showed up, we would finally have edible food served on the lot (no such luck...it's just as mediocre as it ever was).  I was simply expecting something to nourish the daughter and get me through the first half of the day until it came time for the Bianca.

Did I neglect to say the name of the place was the Kidspace Museum?  Well, allow me to describe the "kid friendly" selection of food:  cheese pizza, chicken tenders and chicken caesar wrap.  After asking to check out the chicken caesar wrap and seeing that it had been prepared 5 days ago, I opted out of eating and settled on something else listed on the menu for the daughter...the PB & J sandwich.  What I received several minutes later was not a sandwich at all but a Smucker's Peanut Butter and Strawberry Jam Uncrustable.  Now I'm not sure if any of you have ever had the opportunity to consume an Uncrustable, but it's basically a cross between a Hot Pocket and cow dung.

Now what should you be most proud of Wolfgang Puck?  Being four foot five tall?  Having the healthy choice between frozen cheese pizza, chicken tenders and week old chicken wrap offered to kids at an establishment with your name on it?  No, you need to be proud of serving as an alternative something that contains such wonderful ingredients as calcium peroxide, (the lovely) high fructose corn syrup, monocalcium phosphate, etc, etc.

Yeesh...well luckily it was on to Casa Bianca after that.  I love this place.  It's that pizza parlor you rode your BMX to when you were 12 and didn't care about much in the world.  Red checkered tables, beer signs plastered across the walls...not much has changed at Bianca over the years.  Same friendly waitresses walking around with pizza racks sandwiched around their mid-sections, same godforsaken bathroom and the same hour and a half wait if you get to Eagle Rock anytime after 5:30 (not to mention the 45 minute wait once you've ordered your pie).  But boy oh boy is it worth it.  The Bianca pie is much less NY style pizza or deep dish (although it does have its roots in Chi-town) and much more a hand tossed pie crust (laced with lots of cornstarch on the bottom) with pizza toppings on top.  Whether you go crazy on the toppings (their homemade sausage is my choice) or just have it plain, it's always perfectly baked and delicious.  We topped it all off with choco ice cream and a cappuccino truffle torte that was out of this world.

Casa Bianca
1650 Colorado Avenue
323-256-9617

Guest reviewer numero uno

Mark has generously offered his words for the first guest review round these parts.  Now I've been to Phillippe (Chow) in both New York and Miami Beach and both times were rather unfortunate experiences.  Which would have been enough to keep me away from the one here in LaLa Land except I was invited to a large group gathering and no more need be said other than the food was simply nothing to write about.

Mark's entire experience seems to be something that needs to be told however, so here goes:

“This is what it sounds like when [ducks] cry…” 

Philippe by Philippe Chow, my hat is off to you.  I had read your reviews online.  I had diligently perused your overpriced menu.  I was prepared, therefore, for an average meal that would cost an arm and leg. But you guys still managed to come through with one of the most bizarre, god-awful dining experiences I have ever had ANYWHERE in the world…and I’ve eaten British food!

I love Peking Duck, just love the stuff, and since it’s the signature dish, I really wanted to try it.  It’s $75 for a 7 pound duck but, hey, it’s practically walking distance from my house.  First impressions of Philippe were that it’s a nice looking restaurant with the feel of a Vegas casino place, with red leather banquettes and a lot of dark wood.  I was happy with the banquette we got as it afforded me a view over the entire restaurant…where there was not a whole going on.  

Our order was taken by a guy in a suit who looked like Vlad the Impaler and sounded like Balki Bartokomous from PERFECT STRANGERS.  I’m going to call him “Vlad”.  I think Vlad was a floor manager because he wasn’t dressed like the only other waiter they had working on Tuesday night, who had a white uniform.  No, our guy had slicked back hair and was wearing a suit and tie. Also, I don’t think Vlad was a waiter because he was so incredibly bad at it.  Vlad, if you are reading this, waiters work for tips.  Tips are usually left as an expression of appreciation for good service.  In your case, a tip was left because we are all decent human beings and you clearly have a coke habit to support.  No judgments here.  Well, actually, one judgment- you are a ridiculous up-seller and completely shit waiter.  But I’m getting ahead of myself.  When we ordered ice water, Vlad announced to the restaurant “hey, tap water over here!” not once, but twice, in the world’s most transparent attempt to embarrass his customers into ordering Evian or Voss or some other $10 bottle of water.  Mate, I was embarrassed, but not for myself.  When we ordered the 7 pound duck, 4 hot and sour soups, dumpling sampler, and 2 orders of noodles, he immediately started telling us “that’s not enough! You must get the Prawns ($52 for an order for 2 people) or some other entrees!”  Now, there were 4 of us, 3 guys and 1 lady, so maybe we could have ordered their famous satays but…have you seen them?  The sauce looks like a road accident covering up neon pink chicken.  No thanks.  We are here for the duck, which takes 45 mins to prepare, so please bring out the Hot and Sour soups and the Dumplings in the meantime. 

Up first, Hot and Sour soup, which came out lukewarm and tasted of…what is that?...oh yes, it’s nothing.  Sub, sub Chinese takeout free soup.  So we all sent our soups back to the kitchen so they could be heated properly.  This lead to our first classic moment of the night where the runner who had delivered our dishes brought them back to the kitchen, right in front of our waiter, who looked at us, looked at the soups and…is he going to come over and find out what’s up?…no, he’s going back upstairs for a toot.  Dude, we sent back ALL of our food! Arriving shortly thereafter was the Dumpling Sampler which had the same temperature problem- nothing was hot, everything was lukewarm, and it came completely without garnishes…not even soy sauce.  I eventually flagged down Vlad and said “is this supposed to come like this, with no sauces?” and he took them away and brought back some fresh ones, hot this time, with sauces.  Verdict?  Eh.  Better-than-average shrimp dumplings but not better by much.  Pork dumpling was hard and pretty awful without any acidity to set off the lump of meat inside.  On the whole, these were exactly what you would get at an average dim sum place, the only difference being that these were maybe 5x the price. 

At this point, I needed another drink.  We had an amusing initial drinks order where they told my buddy Evan that they didn’t have the scotch he wanted, but they did have another option, no wait, sorry, we don’t have that but how about a Jameson? Oh wait, so sorry sir, we actually don’t have Jameson (even though I recommended it to you) but we do have the second choice whiskey we just told you we didn’t have.  What?  Jesus Christ dude, if we keep going like this, you better bring the bottle and leave it.  Anyway, for the second round of drinks, another guy named Costin Dumitrescu (I know his name because he dropped biz cards on all of us) came over and took our order…and walked away without asking my fiancé if she wanted a drink.  ‘Cause that’s just how they roll at Philippe, I guess.  Women drinking? Next thing they’ll be wanting the vote!  We called him back; he took her order, and came back with a drink for me that was ½ the pour of the other 2 people who had ordered neat whiskeys.  So I had to send that back too, now setting the record for the most-times-I-have-ever-sent-anything-back-in-a-restaurant-ever, a dubious honor that previously belonged to Hooters in Manhattan. 

But all could be redeemed if the duck and the noodles were going to be great and, when the chef brought out the duck and started carving it tableside, I was impressed: it was a good looking peking duck, although I did notice that parts of the duck looked a little too crispy, shades closer to black than brown in places.  The noodles, however, were another story.  These are Mr. Chan’s “famous” noodles and I’m pretty sure they are famous for looking like a heap of spaghetti with marinara sauce on top.  Not at all what I expected, they were chewy and uninspired (Vlad: “Handmade! Very good! You like!”).  You’re supposed to toss them yourself at the table which is…an idea, I suppose, but not a particularly great one, considering you wouldn’t want to eat the bland noodles by themselves anyway, so why not have the kitchen toss them and serve them properly dressed? 

High point of the evening was the duck, far and away.  It was succulent and very good, with some really fatty, crispy parts that tasted like heaven and then meatier pieces with a nice, savory flavor.  However, there was no doubt that the plum sauce it was served with had been in the fridge since yesterday; it didn’t have the viscosity of a freshly made sauce, so that was a disappointment.  And Dani (fiancé) felt that some pieces were too overcooked, probably the blacker areas of the duck I had noticed earlier.  So was it worth $75 and a 45 minute wait?  Simply put: no, it wasn’t. 

As we were tucking into our duck, however, we did observe a great fight going down at the table right behind us, which I was facing.  I had noticed that a guy had come in and sat down by himself…and kept sitting for over 30 minutes.  Prior to the duck coming, his dining companion finally arrived, a chick in booty shorts and a tank top.  Now, it was cold outside and, in fact, raining, so this chick kinda looked like…an escort.  This would make sense since this guy had been sitting there alone for half an hour, made a phone call, and then this stripper-looking chick showed up.  However, this girl started whisper-shouting at him “Who are you fuckin? Huh? WHO ARE YOU FUCKING?!” and got up to try to grab his phone, so I thought maybe she was just an unpaid ho’ instead of a professional, since I don’t think the pros are allowed to get mad.  Anyway, it was very entertaining and just added to the whole Philippe Chow experience and exactly the type of patrons they seem to cater to. 

They brought out a really unappetizing looking tower o’ desserts and I was pretty shocked when one of my dining companions, ever the optimist, ordered Key Lime pie.  What came out was a piece of key lime pie disguised as cheesecake: it was white, graham-cracker crust, and garnished with strawberries and strawberry drizzle.  It was so cheesecake-looking, that I bet my friend the kitchen had fucked up.  But was, in fact, Key Lime pie.  They then comp’d us some free ice creams for the earlier app fuck ups.  According to Vlad these were “better than Italian gelato, made fresh every day!” These were just O.K., with the red bean being particularly lumpy and not consistently mixed.

I think I know what’s going on, however: This isn’t a restaurant, it’s a front for a James Bond villain.  The décor?  The shifty looking waiter? The awful food?  If I could have breezed through that steel door into the kitchen, I probably would have found fully automatic machine guns, bricks of Peruvian white, maybe even Daniel Craig tied to a chair.  I mean, “Philippe Chow” is a Bond villain name if I have ever heard one.  One thing that wasn’t going to be found in the kitchen was great food or the infamous Philippe Chow.  This really was an eye-opening experience for me because, as an L.A. based eater, I have been to so many great restaurants to eat.  Many cost 50% less than Philippe chow.  Others, like Osteria Mozza, cost money but are worth every penny.  This restaurant is the pets.com of upmarket dining establishments.  Don’t believe the hype.

And you thought my posts were lengthy.

But thank you Mark, thank you.  In a tradition that I hope to begin anew, I will be taking Mark out to eat some brain tacos or live tentacles or chicken heart as thanks for being a guest reviewer.  Do you think you have the stomach for that?  Write me to submit your posts and we'll see.

Omw to Grilled Cheese Invitational...

...with low expectations and Mylanta in tow.  See you all down there.

10 Observations of Coachella

1.  Do not, I repeat, do not forget to buy a ticket, drive out to Palm Springs on Friday morning thinking how easy it will be to scalp one, wait around the front entrance like a schmuck shit out of luck watching as loser upon loser presents a printout gaining them admission only to realize you're even more of a loser for forgetting to buy a ticket and rely on a friend getting dead sick in LA so you can beg her for her ticket but still lose out on seeing Jay-Z on Friday night.

2.  Outdoor Stage was clearly the place to be at.  Temper Trap, The XX, Edward Sharp and the Magnetic Zeros, Hot Chip, Jonsi, Phoenix, Thom Yorke - it was pure bliss.

3.  The best dance party in the world is when Hot Chip plays the desert:


4.  Spicy Pie has crazy good amounts of cheese and toppings but is a mushy mess.  Pizza for the People has fantastic just slightly burnt crust but very chintzy on the toppings.  Spicy for the People should be a winner next year.

5.  And keeping on the food tip, it's generally far better than the Sysco brand victuals you'll find at Six Flags but not as good as the variety of local vendors you can find at any farmer's market.  Plus $7 for a slice?  Come on...

6.  It's much easier to get a free toke off of someone's joint (insert bad joke here) in Coachella in 2010 than it is at Lollapalooza circa 1993.

7.  Apparently, 17 year old girls wear less clothing on their entire body than I do on my left foot.

8.  Do I feel like a 14 year old girl listening to Phoenix?  Yes.  Do I care when they're playing "Love Like a Sunset" against the setting sun with the mountains of the Indio Valley as a backdrop? No.

9.  I thought standing on the subway platform in New York during the third week of August was the vivid reincarnation of the fifth circle of hell.  Nope, Dante was clearly thinking of the scene displayed inside any of the port-a-pottys located closest to the Spicy Pie booth on the last day of the fest.

10.  You're still here after that last one?  Well my last observation is pretty simple - Coachella 2010 = epic win.

Really, CBS?

Seriously?  Honestly?

Banh Mi with the BB

I played in a poker tournament this past Sunday at Hollywood Park.  While I had visions of taking home the main pot and going on a drug-fueled tour of Argentina and Chile, reality was that I was given a swift kick in the nuts by people only too happy to take my money and therefore found myself in the middle of Inglewood on a particularly beautiful Sunday afternoon.  I hadn't had anything to eat all day and while the temptation was almost too hard to resist to grab a couple of dogs from the Pink's cart on my way out and call it a day, I listened to sounder judgement (those things are really only good for when you have just moved out to LA and gone on a three day drinking binge and don't know any better) yet found myself particularly starving.  So I did what any man of (relatively) sound mind and soul would do; I got in my car, went to pick up Chuck and drove down to Westminster to find myself some Vietnamese sandwiches.

So for several years now, I've relied on the mean banh mi they dole out at the various Che Cali locations throughout Southern California or perhaps Lee's Sandwiches.  I always enjoy revisiting these places because it reminds of a particularly Vietnamese societal element that is equal parts fascinating and terrifying.  If you ever make it to Hanoi you'll find a beautiful city built by the French with wide boulevards designed for orderly traffic.  Yet crossing the street in Hanoi is as dangerous a task as you could ask for. There are literally hundreds of thousands of mopeds zipping in and out of traffic lanes.  There are lights but nobody seems to pay them any mind.  It's similar to Frogger except that in the game there is actual thought put into how you hop from one side of the road to the other.  The Vietnamese seemingly abandon any thought process and walk, drive and bike literally any direction they choose.  And shockingly, it works.  Walking into one of these banh mi bakeries, you encounter a mass of people ordering any number of things.  You try and discern where the line begins and ends until you realize there really isn't any line.  You simply make your way by hook or by crook to the counter, yell out your order, and five minutes later you get your grub.

Well it was in said mass of people whilst awaiting my lunch that I overheard two people speaking about the "holy grail" of banh mi, Cho Cu Bakery.

Which is where Chuck and I ventured to.  We showed up around 4:30 and discovered the first great thing about Cho Cu was that there was no maddening crowd to get around (although we weren't there during peak hours).  The second great thing - like most of the bakeries down in Westminster, a full Banh Mi baguette costs $2.25.  You think that's it?  Naw - this place just keeps on giving.  The young lady working behind the counter was drop dead crazy hot.  Like Africa hot.

Yet, amazingly, I was able to keep my mind on the task and ordered the #1 (pork ham), the #4 (meatball) and chose the mung bean cakes with shrimp from among the vast selection of freshly made delicacies both sweet and savory.  As there really isn't anywhere to sit, Chuck and I took our food to the friendly confines of Westminster Park across the street and dug in.  Or at least I did, Chuck insisted on playing Greensleeves on his sandwich.

Needless to say, the sandos were delicious.  The bread, fresh baked every day, was buttery yet crunchy.  The pork ham was more like a traditional banh mi with pate whilst the meatball was very different, almost like the Vietnamese equivalent of a veal parm hero.  The fillings consisted of just the right amount of do chua (pickled carrots and daikon), cilantro, jalepeno and cucumbers.  Any frequent readers of this blog might note that I enjoy things with an extra amount of kick...but the milder spice here felt spot on.  As for the mung bean cakes, they were far too gelatinous and just not that tasty...I'll have to try something else next time.

And while stuffing my face, I spotted something truly awesome.  Turns out the Westminster Police car was designed by Paul Verhoeven.

Cho Cu Bakery
14520 Magnolia St., Suite B
Westminster, CA
714-891-3718

The (culinary) revolution will get you...or not

I am fairly sure I have spoken out about my feelings on food trucks in these parts before.  A brief summary:  I do like the idea more and more of food being mobile, I am interested in said food being something other than the delightful yet ubiquitous taco trucks that have been serving this vast metropolis for thirty or so years and I am thankful the suggestion of attaching bathrooms has, at least currently, fallen on deaf ears.

I am just extremely suspect of attaching the word "gourmet" to these purveyors of victuals simply by throwing $5k at some kind of viral marketing campaign.  Especially if the food ain't great.  So far, Kogi is really the only one to come close, and even they can be spotty.

Yet, I remain optimistic...and it is that optimism which drove me to try out the new Dim Sum truck today for lunch.  Well that and the fact that today they were serving lunch 8 blocks from my house. Adam, Allan and Rick all joined in the fun.

And while it was fun to hang with the gang, there was no joy from the Sum.  I had baked BBQ pork buns, Har Gow dumplings, shrimp and chive dumplings and pan fried turnip cake.  The price wasn't insulting (although $3-3.50 an item did seem a little high), but my biggest problem was that everything was fairly bland.  The sauce served with the dumplings was heavy instead of refreshing.  And worst of all, every piece of food was served lukewarm.  Horrible?  Hardly.  Edible, but definitely not gourmet.  A 20 mile drive east will get you hundreds of fresh, unique and cheap options spread throughout the SGV.

The lunch was not a complete loss however, as India Jones was parked right next door.  The lamb frankie washed down with a limonata was not what any Punjabi would call authentic...but it did the trick.

The Dim Sum Truck
http://thedimsumtruck.com/Index/Home.html


India Jones
http://indiajoneschowtruck.blogspot.com/

Los Angeles Magazine, go f*#k yourself

Listen, I've never met Patric Kuh.  Far as I know, dude's kinder than Mother Teresa.  What I can tell you is that he's a very good writer and therefore, I'm assuming he's a pretty smart guy.

Problem is for ten years he's been the chief resto critic for Los Angeles Magazine and he's been using his skill as a very good writer to heap praise on very bad restaurants.  Sure, every once in a while he gets it right and I'm guessing the mandate over at that ad-rag is to service the dumb and the beautiful by telling them there is nothing greater on this green earth than the Beef Served Three Ways at Melisse rather than informing Angelenos about the culinary diversity lurking on murky corners throughout their metropolis.  Yet don't we deserve more?

To illustrate my point, let's analyze Pat's current annual Top Ten Best New Restaurants:

1. Rivera - Ok in fairness, I raved about this place when it opened.  And perhaps that's when Patric last tasted John Sedlar's Pan-Latin fare, but I've been back twice in the last month and the hard facts are that Rivera has gone way downhill.  Even those homemade tortillas that were a delight have become too mealy.

2.  Bistro LQ - Ok everyone gets a pass.  This place is awesome...I've been twice and it really is delicious.

3.  Drago Centro - Thank you Jesus...finally a place I can rail on.  Who opens an Italian banquet hall in the midst of a recession?  Celestino Drago, that's who.  This place would have gone belly up had it not been for Drago's empire of thoroughly average Italian bistros.

4.  Mo-Chica - Haven't been.  I know, I know...I suck.

5.  Bouchon - So this epitomizes what's wrong with the places Kuh embraces.  I remember going to Keller's Vegas branch when it opened five or six years ago and it was a pretty bad meal.  Two weeks ago, I went to the BH branch and had the mussels and Boudin Noir.  Worse than Vegas and more expensive.  Gussied up menu for the wealthy and uninformed.  Kuh opened his review of Bouchon in a recent issue with, "overhyped, overanticipated, and remarkably good, Thomas Keller's Bouchon leaves little room for skeptics."  At least he got the first part right.

6.  Tavern - I feel a trend here.  Local hardworking chef (Suzanne Goin) done good (Lucques, A.O.C.) decides to open a massive new establishment with an intriguing new take on traditional food (here, American) with the understanding all along that after the reviews come in, we will pay no attention to the quality of the food being served because the mindless masses will blindly (with the aid of impeccable service) follow their corrupt Pied Piper.  In case any celebrity chef hasn't gotten the memo, OPEN A RESTAURANT IN BRENTWOOD, SERVE SOME TYPE OF "NEW" CUISINE AND WATCH AS PEOPLE LITERALLY HAND YOU THEIR WALLETS TO DINE ON FOOD THEY HAVE NO COMPREHENSION FOR!

7.  Bottega Louie - Not only do I find the place inedible, I've yet to encounter one person who has gone and enjoyed themselves.  Even my mother after several glasses of wine.

8.  Barbrix - Can't complain...very good.

9.  Eva - Haven't been.

10.  Westside Tavern - Expensive bar food that is dressed up with nowhere to go but inside the mouths of card carrying AARP members who lost their taste buds back in the 1970's and are on their way to the daily convention of the blue hairs; the bargain matinee at the Landmark.  See my review of their $14 cheeseburger here: http://www.gutrblog.com/2009/10/yet-another-frikkin-burger-post.html, which prompted my friends to each give me a bottle of mayo for my birthday.

So, two N/As, four bona fide stinkers, two gems and a couple of places resting on their laurels.  See what I mean?  You want me to come up with something better, you ask?  Tell Los Idiots Magazine to throw six figures my way and I'll be happy too.

Get some Gold down your Gob, Guvnor

This here Gutrbal will be at the Gold Standard from noon to five today.  My plan is to start at Ludo Bites and eat my way through the Petersen.  Hopefully I won't meet the same fate that Biggy did.

If you are going, send me a mail and I'll share a Singha with you.

http://www.laweekly.com/microsites/gold-standard-info10

Spicy BBQ

I love Thai food.  Even bad Thai food is usually at least tasty.  I'm not sure if I've ever had a Tom Kha soup anywhere that I didn't slurp down every last drop of (I also usually end up chewing on the perfunctory piece of galanga for hours and hours).

For exquisite stuff, I'll always go to Thai town.  The Southern Thai menu at Jitlada is much praised and for good reason.  Those steamed mussels are something fierce.  For the last few years, however, I prefer the Northern grub served up at Spicy BBQ...and a few weeks ago when Rick asked where we should go have a late lunch, I suggested a trek to the Spicy.

Found in the ass end of a dingy strip mall, Spicy BBQ hasn't changed an inch over the years.  Same decor with the same laminated reviews hanging from the walls.  Same Nong (the chef/proprietor/sometimes waitress) with the same friendly attitude.  Rick and I were feeling the pork so we ordered the lot of it; pork sausage (good but not great),  pork patties (spicy and awesome) and of course, BBQ pork with sticky rice (delectable).  And some lamb curry for good measure.

But the real reason (pork-wise) to go here is to order the ground pork with chili sauce.

Also known as pork dip (which is pretty much the best name for anything, ever) it's minced pork in an (adjustable) spicy chili paste served with lettuce and cucumbers.  I'm still unsure as to why Nong and the gang haven't chosen to pack this shit up and make a killing selling it wholesale worldwide.

Check it.

Spicy BBQ
5101 Santa Monica Blvd.
323-663-4211
Cash only