Service Included

In anticipation of this weeks' dinner at Thomas Keller's Per Se in New York City, I stopped by Borders yesterday and picked up Phoebe Damrosch's Service Included, a 226 page tome detailing her year working for one of America's top restaurants.

For me, it's an interesting book. A glimpse into the world of Per Se and The French Laundry. How they do things. The way they think. What makes them "the best." So enthralled I was to read this book that I powered through it and finished it just a few minutes ago. For those interested in the inner-workings of a fine dining restaurant, this book offers that insight and that's where it's strength lies.

However, the latter portion of the book details her burgeoning relationship with Andre the sommelier. At first, it's little details but by the last two chapters, it's entirely about their relationship, their trip to Vermont, their time in a Central Park West diner and the weight of being given a key to his apartment - mostly topics that only hardcore New Yorkers care about and a complete diversion from the core of the book.

Prior to that, it's chock full of insight and stories from Per Se. The training leading to the opening. The trials of the "Friends and Family" dinners. Problematic and quirky customers. The burning down of the house during its' first week of service. For those interested in service, these early chapters are worth the book alone.

Tortilleria Sinaloa

Tamal de Pollo y Carne Asada Taco for Spike.

Down on Eastern Avenue, immediately east of Broadway, is Tortilleria Sinaloa, an authentic Mexican tortilla shop where the tortillas are made fresh and a place that I trek to at least once every two weeks for my stock of fresh corn tortillas and freshly fried tortilla chips.

Today, Spike and I also made it our lunch stop and it was as tasty as always. I'll let the pictures do the talking.

My Tacos de Carnitas and Tacos de Cabra.

The Pozole.

Balto Moco?

After braving the first snowstorm of the year by making kettle korn, we headed back to Woodberry Kitchen where I promptly ordered this "Baltimore Style Loco Moco."

If you're unfamiliar with Loco Moco, it's a Hawaii favorite that consists of steamed white rice, a hamburger patty and a fried egg, all covered in brown gravy. It's delicious if not nutritious and I was in the mood for one.

Of course, restaurants here aren't really equipped to make Loco Moco on the fly but I'm desperate and open to improvise. One order of the pan fried rice (hold the fried egg), one order of hamburger patty cooked medium, stack the patty on the rice and top with the egg. No gravy? Oh well, salt will have to do and what I ate is what you see above. Yum.

Counting In Fives

Something strange in numbers of 5 are happening at The Spro...

Ashland

While I enjoy spending my time reading, researching and eating good food, sometimes "good food" means something a little more "down home." A little more like you ate when you were young. Today was one of those mornings.

Not too far from my house in Cockeysville is the Ashland Cafe. It's a greasy spoon kinda place that serves breakfast all day, has daily specials no more than ten bucks, keeps tasty fried chicken in a warming cabinet, offers Lotto tickets and the ubiquitous "Greek Specialties" that all East Coast diners seem to have. It's been there for years and if you're not seated by 8am Sunday morning, it's going to be a long wait as the place is packed on weekends.

This morning I was in the mood for some American breakfast so off to Ashland I went. They've upgraded the place over the years and while the environs are warm country, it's just a simple eatery with a suspended train track running the perimeter of the small dining room. This past summer, they did some work on part of the exterior and I believe they created outdoor seating in the vacant lot next door, but I haven't eaten in that part.

The coffee here is the typical weak dreck you find in most diners but it's oddly comforting. Add some sugar and a good helping of cream and it's passable - as long as there's a pancake to go with it. My breakfast this morning consisted of their Ham & Cheese Omelet, one pancake, side order of french fries (for texture, of course) and an order of toast (that came with the omelette).

If I was in some sort of "nice" restaurant, I would probably be aghast as the omelette but here, it's perfect. The scrambled egg (most probably from a box) were rudimentary but pan burned brown, the ham was nothing special and the cheese was those yellow American cheese slices that are found in almost every refrigerator. It was decidedly low-brow and blue collar, but damn was it good. Seems that everything tastes good with a serious helping of American cheese on top. Slather some hot sauce over the omelette and it's just brilliant.

The fries were frozen shoestring and done to a nice crisp. Nothing fancy. The toast was a deep brown just as I like it and slathered with butter (again, as I like it). That's a point of note: it's such a treat when the kitchen has taken the time to pre-slather your bread with butter and it comes out melted and dripping. Lovely. None of this messing with cold pats of butter and trying haphazardly to spread it on - especially after it's had a few moments to cool on the trip from the kitchen to your table.

The pancake was nicely done. Soft, airy, fluffy and chewy. Layer on some butter and pour the imitation maple syrup on heavy and you're good to go.

It wasn't "fine dining" but it certainly was soul dining.

The Ashland Cafe
10810 York Road
Cockeysville, MD 21030
410-666-3838

More Fiesta Mexicana

Totopos - nicely done with "real" tortilla chips. Gracias a Dios.

Carne de Res y Queso Quesadilla

My favorite: the Enchilada de Mole.

I Can Neither Confirm Nor Deny

Freshly shucked Rappahannock Oysters at the ready.

If anyone asks me about this in person or outside of this posting, I will deny, deny, deny and my answer will be:

"I have no recollection."

Perhaps I too can become President of the Unted States...

Someone I know came up to someone else I know to ask if this person knew anything about a secret gathering of professionals cooking for each other in some sort of culinary free-for-all. I don't know anything about something like that.

I can neither confirm or deny...

But somehow, I remember having this dream about meeting a few people who worked a big kitchen and made some really fun and interesting dishes. It was a dream that lasted until four in the morning.

Can't really recall the details but I woke up the next morning exhausted and with the sudden knowledge that I now knew how to shuck oysters.

Fresh Ogo flown in from Hawaii.

Rappahannock Oyster with aPonzu Ginger granita topped with Ogo.

Rappahannock Oyster with Portuguese Sausage and smothered in an 'Inamona (Kukui Nut) Cream reduction.

Australian Blue Shrimp with pomegranites, carrots and more.

Ahi Tuna Skewers

Eating Not So Well In Cockeysville

The heavily fried pasteles

I had been hearing rumors about a new Latin market called La Favorita in Cockeysville for some time. Even though I live in the area, my usual path of travel doesn't take me to that part of Cockeysville so I hardly venture there. Anna (of the Library fame not of Mexico fame) recently told me that there was also a new restaurant a couple of doors down and I knew I had to check it out.

I try to favor and patronize small, independent restaurants. It's important to me to support the local businesses and Maria de Los Angeles is definitely small and local. The interior is typical "I've only got a microscopic buget so let's see what we can do" kind of decor. It's just a bunch of stuff gathered together. Nothing matches but there's a large jukebox and television running Univision non-stop.

Unlike what Anna had thought, it's not a "Mexican restaurant" but rather an El Salvadorean restaurant. The menu is simple and basic and the cooking is, well, home-y. Home-y as in the food was like your hapless uncle cooked it kind of home-y and not of the "this reminds me of grandma's cooking" kind.

For my meal, I ordered the pastele which is something I thought was Puerto Rican in origin but is sort of an empanada kind of creation but instead of using masa as the "breading", it uses ground plantains. The Puerto Rican version is steamed in banana leaves while this version is deep fried and served with a tangy cabbage salad. All in all, it's kinda salty and not very well executed. It was definitely fried with a heavy hand.

More heavily fried pork chops. A shame.

Being unfamiliar with El Salvadorean food, I admit that I went for the "safe" item by ordering the fried pork chops. I mean, I like pork and I like stuff that's fried. Pretty safe stuff, I thought.

Unfortunately, I was wrong. It's been a long time since I've been dissatisfied with a fried pork chop but this was definitely one of them. Again, the chops were fried with a heavy hand. Seems to me that these were the same thin cut, cheap chops one finds at the local Shoppers Food Warehouse for sixteen cents a pound. Small and fried to a crisp and just a bit more than salty, they were served with liquid-y beans, perfunctory rice and corn tortillas. Actually, the tortillas were the highlight of the meal, they were pretty darn good.


Maria de Los Angeles
558 Cranbrook Road
Cockeysville, MD 21030
410-628-1164

Jane, Stop This Crazy Thing!!!

There's nothing like eating meat. It can be deep, savory, complex and delicious. It has a texture that no vegetable can ever match - no matter how much tofu you add. I'm not afraid to stand up and be counted amongst the meat eaters of the world.

It was Vanessa's birthday and the decision was made to celebrate her 31st at the new Fogo de Chao Brazilian Churrascaria in Baltimore's Inner Harbor. I had been to the Atlanta Fogo de Chao back in 2004 to celebrate Bronwen Serna's victory at the United States Barista Championship and remember it with fond memories. Now it was time to see if today's reality matches yesterday's memories.

The Clan had gathered once again, occupying a table 16 strong. Most restaurants might balk at such a large party, but no Fogo. They can seat 300 in their dining room and one of the servers told me tonight they would seat about 1200 guests. At $48 a person, that's a minimum revenue just shy of $60,000. For one night.

Not a bad business to be in.

Of course, tonight was a little bit different. The Army-Navy Game was in town at Ravens Stadium which mean absolute pandemonium. I typically hate going out to eat on a Friday or Saturday night and as I pulled up to the valet (or tried to), I remembered exactly why I hate eating out on Friday and Saturday nights. Everyone, their mother, their grandparents, and their sister's best friend's cousin's uncle is out on the town eating as well. Crap.

But I try to be an affable chap and decided to go with the flow. So after a fifteen minute wait for a valet attendant to attend to my chariot, into the restaurant I went.

Inside was also pandemonium. To say the place was packed would be an understatement. Packed and loud. People were everywhere. It was a mad house. I wanted to run. I thought about leaving. But the sign by the door that read: "Please allow our valet attendants 20 minutes to retrieve your car" meant that I was staying.

Besides, I was hungry.

One thing about Fogo is that you should never leave hungry. It is consuming mass quantities of food on a whole new level. Turn your green/red marker over to green and the chefs swarm over you with their swords of meat. For the uninitiated, it's an impressive sight. Hot, glistening meat on large, metal skewers arrive at your table in a continuous wave. Eat as much as you want because there's always more.

There's a decent salad bar in the middle of the main dining room and we headed over to investigate. Unfortunately, so was half the restaurant, which meant a very long line. I hate lines. Oh well, screw the salad, I'm going green!

Back at the table, with my marker set to green, the meat started flowing. At first a trickle. Nice. I can keep up with this. Then, suddenly, a wave. I'm swimming. Hard. The meat is piling. I can't swim fast enough.

I turn the marker back to red, but sitting next to me is Rod, who has his marker still set to green, so the meat still keeps landing on my plate. I have to wave the red side at the people and wave them off of me. I need to slow down. I need to rest. Marissa and them haven't returned from the salad bar and I'm already in danger of being full. And we've only been here for ten minutes.

Fogo de Chao offers fifteen types of meat. Mostly beef, but there's pork and chicken available as well. Much of the meat is just okay. Not enough salt or seasoning, so by the time the chef cuts into the meat for your portion, it just tastes kinda bland. Kinda gray. What you want are the outer cuts that have been seared by the fire. That's where the flavor is.

The standout meats were the sausage and the bacon wrapped filet and bacon wrapped chicken. Seems that anything wrapped in bacon is going to taste better. The chicken legs always came out searingly hot, which is a plus, and had good flavor. The rest of the beef was kinda benign and uninspired. None of the main beef cuts really stood out for me.

If you don't attack the salad bar (which is just filler anyway), they drop on the table platefuls of mashed potatoes, fried dough balls and a polenta-like thing. All of them are pretty good, although I thought the fried dough was a bit oily.

In spite of the place being packed, loud and generally very loud (I know I said that already, but it was LOUD). I had a good time. It's really hard not to have a good time when The Clan has gathered. What's the latest gossip? Who's the biggest fuckup? Who's serious about moving to Barcelona? Is Tilly really going to start her sex toy-related business? Who's next for a pregnancy? Some stuff I can relate to, other stuff I can't.

The staff is helpful, talkative and at times, funny. Many of them are actually from Brazil, which is a nice twist.

Dessert finally came and I ordered the Strawberry ice cream. It was nothing special. Had I been dining alone, I probably would have thought it outright sucked. It was loose, melted and generally so-so. Tilly had the cheesecake - that was so-so, as well.

In the end, our bill came out just shy of fourteen hundred dollars, including tip. Certainly, not the best meal I've had for $85 but not the worst.

Fogo de Chao
600 East Pratt Street, Suite 102
Baltimore, MD 21202
410-528-9292
www.fogodechao.com

Love In The Time Of Cholera

Catalina Sandino Moreno and Giovanna Mezzogiorno as the cousins Hildebranda Sanchez and Fermina Daza.

After arriving from Los Angeles today, I rushed out to the movies to see Love In The Time of Cholera, the tale of two lovers and their fifty-one year journey to be together. I had just finished Gabriel Garcia Marquez's book on the flight home so the timing was perfect. Perhaps I was a bit tired to go to the movies, but I refuse to watch movies on the weekends and since the theatre was only screening the film at 10:20pm and new movies were opening tomorrow (it was Thursday night), I figured chances were good they were going to pull the film and I wouldn't get to see it.

I arrived to an absolutely empty theater about fifteen minutes prior to the scheduled time, and it stayed empty. It was like my own private screening. It was beautiful. If I had brought a girl along with me, who knows what kind of trouble we could have gotten into. It's one thing to make out at the movies, but a private screening opens up so many more possibilities. God must know my nefarious ways and that's why he's conspired to place such distance between me and Mexico City.

It would be redundant to go into details about the film and give my "review" but I enjoyed it. It stayed relatively true to the book, even though it did take some large liberties and it was unfortunate that so much of the exposition in the book that gave so much life an texture to the story were unable to be captured in the film. Of course, there's only two hours so it's tough.

I just hope that I won't have to wait 51 years, 9 months and 4 days before I can declare my love again like Florentino Ariza...

N490UA

Fly trusty steed! Onward to my destiny with Drew Barrymore!

Here it is. November Four Niner Zero Uniform Alpha. The United Boeing 757 that was going to carry me to Eternal Glory (or at least until the end of 2009).

I was about to reach a milestone. 50,000 miles within one calendar year. Depart Los Angeles in that airplane and I would arrive in Baltimore a Premier Executive member. Exciting.

I had been a Mileage Plus Premier member for about six years back in the late 1980s to mid 1990s when I was still living in Honolulu and flying back and forth. Just three trips a year and I was guaranteed to hit the 25,000 mile mark for Premier. But I had never made the Executive Level.

For the past ten years or so, I had been flying with whomever gave me the cheapest rate. Then, in 2005, I realized again that I was wasting all those miles flown and decided to use primarily United and Star Alliance airlines to rebuild my former glory. With my travels to Africa and across the United States, I started threatening to make Premier and on the way to Tokyo in July, I made it once again. Suddenly, upgrades that were previously unavailable to me were being offered. No more paying for Economy Plus seats, they were on the house. There was a crispness to my step that wasn't there before and the cute front counter girls started giving me bigger smiles and offering me backrubs.

Since I'm not part of club, rumors abound. I was turned away from the USAirways lounge because I wasn't a "Gold Card" holder (Premier only has a silver card) and told that had I had the Gold Card, I would have been welcomed. Premier has its' perks, but only Executives were welcome here.

So what does one get when he's flown 50,000 miles over the past year?

The website says I get access to an exclusive phone number to take care of my needs. Priority check-in so I can avoid all the families and tourists loaded down with kids, luggage and too many hand carry baggages. Economy Plus seating. Waitlist priority so that I can bypass the schmoes who think they're flying standby ahead of me. And complimentary upgrades that will propel me into First Class and next to that young starlet who won't be able to keep her hands off of me and invite me to join the Mile High Club.

So maybe next time you see me it will be just a quick glimpse of me on the other side of the curtain, laughing, cavorting and spilling champagne over Drew Barrymore's shirt while she feeds me spoonfuls of osetra caviar.

I think I'm looking forward to the Executive life...

The Last Supper at Versaiiles

The Spread: Puercos Fritos with fried plantains, rice, black beans and french fries.

Tonight is the last supper in Los Angeles and we're at Versailles Cuban Food in Manhattan beach with Al, Polly and Laila. In a way, I'm sad to leave family, but I'm also looking forward to this eating binge disguising itself as a working holiday. We haven't done anything except eat since I arrived - which explains so much about Mario Batali.

I'd seen Versailles during my May visit to L.A. and tonight we were in the mood. We got there kinda late (about 9:30pm) and the staff didn't look too happy to see us - especially since it was a slow night and they were probably ready to get the fuck outta there. Happily, another table of four came in a few minutes after us so, if there was any spitting going on in the kitchen, it would be on their food and not ours - I just needed to make sure our food was ordered and fired ahead of theirs.

Lomo Salteado

The food at Versailles is standard Cuban fare and while I'd like to think i've had a bit of experience with Cuban food, I have to admit it's pretty limited, and probably pretty stereotypical. Heck, I probably couldn't tell you a traditional Cuban dish beyond the sandwich.

As typical of our eating adventures, the spread was large. Polly went with the Carne Asada, Al ordered the Cuban Sandwich, Laila ordered the Lomo Salteado and I went with the Puercos Fritos. We started off with some Jamon y Queso Croquetes that were inattentively fried and came out on the dark side. The texture and flavor were perfunctory and nothing to rave about.

I was able to sample a little of the Carne Asada and Lomo Salteado, again just decent cooking, nothing that blew me away. Although I was surprised to see the Lomo Salteado on the menu, having only known that as being a Peruvian dish, but that just goes to show you how much I know about Cuban cuisine.

Cuban Sandwich. Could have used more pickles.

My Puercos Fritos were actually pretty darn good. Slightly on the salty side and the vinegar based sauced only heightened the acidity and saltiness of the dish, but I quite enjoyed it. One problem with the dish, and perhaps its' really my problem is that I noticed what looked like fried fat to me hunked on the back of the plate. I figured these were extra fatty pieces of meat and reserved those for last. When, after consuming all the pork, I reached those pieces, I realized that they weren't fried fat, they were fried plantains! Crap. I tasted them. Yum. Sweet and delicious. Shit, they would have been the perfect counterbalance to the salty fried pork! And I had finished it all! Screwed.

Once again, foiled by my own ignorance.

Carne Asada.

All in all, the food was decent. Again, nothing to march the streets over, just decent cooking at a decent price. And in many ways, you really can't ask for more than that!

Now I'm ready for that flight home.

Versailles
1000 North Sepulveda Boulevard
Manhattan Beach, CA 90266
310-937-6829
www.versaillescuban.com

Chicken Katsu Curry

L&L's Chicken Katsu Curry Mini Plate with French Fries and Curry on the side where it belongs.

Back in the mid-to-late 1990s, a place in Honolulu called I Love Country Cafe quietly started serving a dish called Chicken Katsu Curry. Their version featured the ubiquitous chicken katsu (an island variation on a Japanese tradition) smothered in a brown curry sauce over two scoops of brown rice and a green salad. It was the "healthier" version of the typical Hawaiian plate lunch.

Fast forward to today and it seems that every plate lunch joint has incorporated this dish into their menu - to the point where I think a new generation has grown up in Hawaii (and elsewhere) thinking that Chicken Katsu Curry is as "Hawaiian" a plate lunch as is Kalua Pig and Lau Lau.

So, whenever I visit Honolulu (or the West Coast), I try to make a point of it to stop at a favorite plate lunch joint. Beyond all others is the now ubiquitous L&L Drive Inn, also known on the mainland as L&L Hawaiian Barbecue. Now, how "barbecue" and "plate lunch" has become synonymous with each other is only known to the mind of Eddie Flores (the owner of L&L). What was once a couple plate lunch joints on Oahu is now a multi-state franchise that reaches all the way from Hawaii to 64 Fulton Street in New York City.

I've been in L.A. now for over a week. I used to come here a lot for work, both when I worked in the movie and paintball businesses. It's nearly a second home for me. I was even invited to join The Grand Havana Room in 1995 when it first opened. Because of this, being in L.A. is really like being at home - kinda boring. What's there to do? What's there to do at home? Exactly! Nada. The only thing there really is to do of interest is eat, so off to L&L I go.

The Hawthorne branch of L&L is an average sized plate lunch place with all the usual menu items. The biggest problem with L&L is their exclusivity with Pepsi. I abhor Pepsi and refuse to drink it. But I'm here for the curry.

When visiting any L&L beware of the serving sizes. Their plate lunch is huge. I can't finish it. And if I do, I'm hating myself for it. It's a monster. Better to go with the "mini plate" that consists of less meat, one scoop of rice and one scoop of macaroni salad. It's much more manageable and still quite filling.

Everything is prepared as expected. There's no surprises here. It's fried food galore and nicely done. Good thing I got the curry sauce on the side because one bite reminds me that I hate L&L's curry sauce. It's this yellow muck that's just lame on flavor. Their tonkatsu sauce would have been the better choice. Did I say their curry sauce sucks? I did? Well, let me say it again: I hate their curry sauce. It's just nasty. Mostly coconut milk with some coloring and very little flavor to make it pop. After a few bites, I abandoned the sauce altogether and stuck with the Tabasco.

I'm a texture freak. Which means that I love all sorts of textures while eating. The crunchy batter of the katsu, the pillowy softness of the rice, the spice of the Tabasco, the chewiness of the macaroni and the crispiness of french fries. The truth is, like rice, I can eat french fries with anything. It's my addiction. It's my version of crack cocaine. The L&L version is typical Sysco-style frozen crap but it does the job.

One thing I've learned over the years is that while L&L may be everywhere, it's really just perfunctory in quality. Whether you're in Hawaii or on the West Coast, there's typically some other plate lunch joint that's doing it better. When I'm back in Honolulu, I prefer You Hungry? In Vegas, I prefer Ohana's Hawaiian Barbecue, and in L.A., I'm starting to prefer Bruddah's. Conversely, when I'm in a pinch (or in Washington state or New York City) and I need my plate lunch fix, L&L fits the bill.


L&L Hawaiian Barbecue
5257 West Rosecrans Street
Hawthorne, CA 90250
310)-643-5195
www.hawaiianbarbecue.com

Ramen, Ramen, Ramen

Ramen. Such a fighting word. Beyond the freeze-dried stuff you buy at the grocery store for fifty-nine cents that passes itself off as "ramen," there exists a world flavor, texture and delight that no amount of hot water poured into a styro cup can ever satisfy. This is the world of real ramen. That Chinese-derivative Japanese noodle soup that inspires legions, forms the basis of movies and causes brothers to battle. The line between miso and shoyu is deep and one does not cross sides lightly.

The beauty of Southern California is its' pockets of life in the form of ethnic communities. While Mexican food abounds through most of Los Angeles, a visit to Gardena or Torrance reveals a strong, East Asian (namely Japanese) world. And nestled in this community is the Mitsua Marketplace - a warehouse sized building filled with a food court, shops and grocery store chock-full of Japanese foods and items. Need a book on Nobu Style? They've got it. Shiseido cosmetics? They've got it. Some weird kitchen contraption? No problem. Salty toothpaste? Yes! Pocky sticks? Of course. Tonkatsu? Hai!

Within the food court is reputedly one of Los Angeles' best ramen stands. It's a relatively simple operation that features a model menu you can point to, or a written menu in Japanese that you can also point to. Al and Polly had been here many times before and knew of my prediliction towards ramen and decided that I had to check it out before leaving.

I went with some pretty standard fare, shoyu ramen (that's a soy sauce based soup) with sliced pork, sliced fish roll and seaweed, with a hard boiled egg and a boil of rice and salmon roe. Al ordered almost the same thing, except his ramen had a different soup base and his rice bowl had pork instead of fish eggs.

It was good stuff. The noodles, which is the heart of the soup and the broth its' soul, were really reminiscent of Chinese saimin noodles: thin, squiggly but chewy. The broth was delicious, delicate and refined with just a lingering flavor of soy sauce. The salmon roe was fresh and popped in the mouth with a delicate saltiness. I'm a big fan of hard boiled egg with my ramen, so I was excited that mine came with one. This one was properly cooked but the outer skin was brown as though it had been steeped in tea for quite some time. Whatever flavoring what used turned out to be too delicate and disappeared under the flavor of the ramen.

In all, a good meal and a great place to shop. If only I lived there, I could have gone to town in the grocery store. Although I did pick up several Japanese cookbooks - including one titled: Nobu Style.

Mitsua Marketplace
1815 W 213th St # 235
Torrance, CA 90501
(310) 782-6800
www.mitsuwa.com

Pink's

His and Hers Chili Cheese Hot Dogs at Pink's.

The very first time I went to Pink's this past May, I had to wonder what all the fuss was about. My bacon, chili and cheese hot dog was absolutely disgusting. Too much sodium and just too much crap - and when I say "crap", I mean shitty ingredients. I resigned myself not to go back. Ever.

But Laila wanted to go since she had never been and we were in the midst of a whirlwind tour of Los Angeles. Mind you, it was me, the schmoe from Baltimore, giving the tour to the girl who grew up in Southern California - an interesting and funny turn of events. We started on our tour shooting a segment on Hollywood Boulevard in front of Mann's Chinese Theatre for the video I'm shooting. From there, it was through Melrose, West Hollywood, Beverly Hills, Westwood and then back to Hollywood for Pink's.

Like the last time I was here, there was almost no line, so there was none of this "I waited in line for one hour" kind of nonsense that I hear from so many people about the place. Like everywhere in Los Angeles, Pink's is lined with headshots of celebrities famous, once were famous and not so famous. Good thing I didn't actually see a "celebrity", I might have puked.

Laila goes to town on her Pink's.

After my last visit, I was prepared not to order a hot dog, but Laila insisted that she didn't want to eat alone. The Chili Cheese Dog was pretty interesting. A thin hot dog that's longer than the bun with a slice of yellow American cheese, chili and onions. It wasn't too cold outside, so we found a table in the back patio and went to town. It wasn't as bad as before. Less salt and a bit more flavor. But I guess you don't eat a hot dog expecting something gourmet. It's down home street food and for that, it was pretty decent.

But I still prefer the Sabrett hot dogs in New York City.

Pink's
709 North LaBrea Boulevard
Los Angeles, CA 90038
323-931-4223
www.pinkshollywood.com

Homer Simpson Loves Warm Sushi Rice

Probably the most reassuring sign in a sushi restaurant ever.

Evidently in the world of sushi restaurants, there is a division between those who serve their nigiri with warm sushi rice and those who serve it with cold sushi rice. I don't know whether this divide exists in Japan but, according to Al and Polly, it does (at least in Los Angeles).

Personally speaking, I find most of the sushi prep in Maryland to be abhorrent and the distinction between warm and cold sushi rices is something that is just not on the radar. While I prefer the rice to be warm, I guess I've subconsciously given up on it. So when they said we were going to an Edo or Old Tokyo style of sushi with the warm rice, I was ready. With Polly, Anna, Baby Ian, Al and Laila in tow, we made our way to West Los Angeles for the famed Sushi Echigo.

Perhaps they were looking to secure a cheaper rent, but Sushi Echigo is located on the second floor of a strip mall on Santa Monica Boulevard, just west of the 405 Freeway. It's kinda odd and kinda cheesy in its' location but once you walk in, there's a sign that reassures even the most jaded of souls. It reads: "No salad, soup or cooked stuff." Wonderful.

Freshly grated wasabi and pickled ginger.

For our meals, we opted for the omakase or tasting menu. Basically, we left it up to the sushi chefs to choose for us. And choose for us they did. Again, it would be a waste of verbage to write too much about this meal. Quite simply, I thought it was wonderful. The fish was fresh. The fish was tasty and some of it out of the box. That's a plus in my book.

On the wall is a board of specials. I couldn't resist ordering a round of Kumamoto oysters and sea urchin. Beautiful. The urchins were so sweet and delictable. I wanted more.

We also had a moment of star gazing when I noticed one of the guests drawing on the back of one of the servers' shirt. Turns out that Matt Groenig and his family were also enjoying sushi and gave the servers a couple of Simpsons drawings as a souvenir. I thought about asking for the same, but since I wear black shirts, it was kinda pointless.

I'll let you enjoy the photos and not the verbage.

Albacore tuna sashimi with miso sauce.

O-Toro.

Halibut.

Scallops.

Bonito.

Kampachi.

Skipjack tuna.

Black Snapper.

Matt Groenig.

Butterfish.

Blue Fin Crab Roll.

Sea Urchin and Kumamoto Oysters.

Echigo
12217 Santa Monica Blvd.
Los Angeles, CA 90025
(310) 820-9787

Raspados?

Raspados or something a bit more sinister? You be the judge.

Here's something from our travels today while eating tasty Mexican food. Won't tell you what it is. You figure it out.

Singing The Blues

Could have been B.B. King on the main stage at Cozy's, but it wasn't.

Whenever I hit L.A., I always ring up my old movie buddy Jay Video. Like myself, Jay does video assist for motion pictures. Unlike me, he's still working in "The Biz."

Usually, he's working on some movie or another and I'll typically visit with him on the set for a couple of hours. But Jay's a big blues fan and on most weekends you'll find him at Cozy's in Sherman Oaks. We caught up tonight during Cozy's Open Mic night. A collection of blues musicians of different skill levels and ages who jump on stage and jam for a song or two. It's a good time and an interesting tour of those cats who really have their chops down and those kids that think they know how to play the blues, but are really just a hairs' breadth away from rock.


Cozy's
14058 Ventura Boulevard
Sherman Oaks, CA 91423
818-986-6000
L.A.'s Home of the Blues

Scoops

After the madness of splitting the Fat Deal at Fatburger, pizza and much more at Pizzeria Mozza and coffee at Intelligentsia, we decided to check out that most suspicious of ice cream parlors known as Scoops in the Wilshire Center neighborhood.

Suspicious because I've been hearing so much about it. Not just from the ever-sleuthing-for-tasty-places-to-eat Polly, but also from other food industry friends who say it's a "must visit" place while in L.A. Located in what seems to be a pseudo-hipster slash industrial slash blue collar neighborhood, with a lot of construction going on, Scoops is a little place that's bathed in baby pink, a remnant couch and a few kinda modern-ish cafe tables. Tucked away in a corner are some stereo speakers and a collection of DVDs from a failed neighborhood exchange experiment and there's a pull-down projector screen on the back wall that looks it came straight out of an elementary school classroom.

Peter, the guy behind the bar, is a friendly and affable chap who's enthusiastic and knowledgeable about the product. In this surly world of unhappy counter people, it's nice to find someone friendly and more than eager to give you a sample of everything in the case. Luckily, we arrived around dinner time - a traditionally slow time in the frozen dessert world, and we were able to chat, relax, sample, eat, chill, eat more and hang out for a couple hours.

The ice cream selection here changes on a daily basis according the owners' whims. Happily for us, the owner had some nice whims that week. We heard rumors of a bacon flavored ice cream that used bacon fat, as well as a foie gras ice cream that tantalized the mind. Things weren't that wild today but they were good. The Brown Bread was an instant favorite: vanilla ice cream filled with Grape Nuts - deelish.


Scoops
712 North Heliotrope
Los Angeles,CA 90029
323-906-2649

Fatburger

Getting the short end of the Fat Deal in Studio City.

Perhaps burgers are on my mind lately. Or perhaps I'm just on a mission for the Los Angeles Tri-Fecta of burgers. It's probably the latter.

After a brief shopping trip to my old haunt, Location Sound in North Hollywood, Polly and I made our way to the Fatburger in Studio City for a pre-lunch snack. This particular location is of peculiar interest because it was the first and only Fatburger in which I've ever eaten. Once upon a time, I was seriously impressed with their burger and thought it gave the rest a run for their money. I wanted to see if it was more of the same or if those were just romanticized memories of a rose-coloured time in my life.

Since we were due to eat at Pizzeria Mozza in a short time, we opted to split a Fat Deal meal combo of a 1/3 pound Fatburger, thick cut french fries and Dr. Pepper.

I gotta say, it was good. The burger was thick and had good flavor. It took a while to recieve our order but you could tell it was freshly made and the patty itself was hot and the veggies cold. Just look at the tomato - it's pretty darn thick for a fast food joint. The fries were standard frozen fare but they crisped nicely and were a good accompaniment - as long as you had lots of salt and maybe some ketchup. And of course, Dr. Pepper washes it all down nicely.

And it was just as good as I remember - and these aren't rose coloured days...



Fatburger Studio City
10600 1/2 Ventura Boulevard
Studio City, CA 91604
818-769-8725
www.fatburger.com

In-N-Pout

The Bill at the Redondo Beach In-N-Out Burger.

Whenever I arrive on the west coast, one of my first stops is usually at the local In-N-Out Burger. For years I've held out that In-N-Out is the best burger in America. That it trumps all comers like Sonic, Five Guys, Tommy's Original and Fatburger (even though Fatburger had always given In-N-Out a tough run for the money). Anywhere in California and Nevada, I would make the trek to In-N-Out, no matter how inconvenient or how odd it seemed - like it must have when I visited my old friend Aaron at the Vacaville In-N-Out years ago.

I arrived at the Redondo Beach In-N-Out expected the usual great miracle of freshly ground beef and fantasized about ordering a "Four By Four" - that's four beef patties and four slices cheese: just pure, unadulterated gluttony.

But in reality, I knew that the Double Double was more than enough for me. However my brother Al, with his seemingly unsatiable ability to consume mass quantities of food without my penchant for adding to the waistline, talked non-stop about how the Double Double and Single Single would pair beautifully together. And while I may be a strong man when it comes to pursuing quality, I'm weak when confronted with an In-N-Out pairing. A Double Double and Single Single it would be for me too.

There's something beautifully gracious about an In-N-Out Burger location. Everyone is dressed in sharp whites with red aprons kept neat with large safety pins. Everyone seems happy and friendly. And, most importantly, everyone is busting their butts because the pace is relentless. I'm continually impressed with the workspace and the workflow. Dozens of young people just pounding out burger after burger, fries after fries in a never-ending stream of orders from both the triple registers on the front counter and the incessantly long line in drive-thru. It's amazing and bewildering, all at the same time.

Of course, for most people, it just looks like a bunch of people working. But to me, it's a symphony of workflow. I can't get enough. I want to watch them all day long.

But we're here to eat and our order finally comes up. Three Double Doubles (two "Animal Style" off the secret menu), two Single cheeseburges (one "Animal Style"), three orders of french fries, three sodas and a chocolate milkshake (okay, I couldn't help myself). It was our paean to In-N-Out and cost just over twenty-three dollars.

I don't know if it's just me or my changing tastebuds, but I was a bit disappointed. Making no excuses, the burger patties were on the cold side. The lettuce, pickles, tomatoes and onions were cold but so too were the patties. Bummer.

Then there were the fries, cooked as they always were. Idaho potatoes cut fresh on the fry line then fried until done. Problem with this is that they don't crisp. They're just slightly golden, but limp. There's no contrast in textures. No carmelization of the sugars. No real flavor to jump out at you. Compared to the quick fries we did up on Thanksgiving, these were just that: limp.

The milkshake was okay. The standard Taylor milkshake machine fare you get at most fast food joints. I wasn't expecting more so I wasn't disappointed. I just wish there was a fast food way to make really good milkshakes.

It pains me to write this. It really does because I've been in love with In-N-Out for such a long time. But I can't help but to be disappointed. I wonder how much more the experience would be enhanced if they took the extra time to blanche the fries at low temp before finishing the fries. I long for the patties to be hot. I yearn for the In-N-Out experience of my youth that left me dazed, in wonder and with a burning in my belly to fly out west and gorge at the first In-N-Out on the horizon.

I feel as if that's all changed now, but I hope not. I want to go back and be dazzled and amazed.

Well, at least they had Dr. Pepper...


In-N-Out Burger
3801 Inglewood Avenue
Redondo Beach, CA 90278
www.in-n-out.com