Jay's Strange Blog

Thursday, April 29, 2010

Rosetta Cappuccino

It's morning and I'm slightly groggy. I wasn't expecting to spend the night in San Diego, I feel worked and there's still the two hour drive back to Los Angeles. Dennis and I hit Caffe Calabria for morning coffee and pastries.

One problem with traveling is that it can be quite difficult to find nice coffee spots. Hell, it's difficult to find a nice coffee spot in your own city, much more so when traveling. That's why it's fortuitous to find a place like Calabria where the coffee is quite good and the technique agreeable.

Our Spread: Cappuccino, Macchiato, muffin and almond croissant.

Since my morning excursions to the St. Veronique bakery in Paris' 7th Arrondissement, I've been searching for similar almond croissants. Much like my continuing search for conchas, my search for almond croissants has typically been less than exciting. And while I think we offer a killer almond croissant at Spro Hampden, I don't usually eat them because why eat your own product and, therefore, your own profit?

Which leaves me to sampling almond croissants elsewhere and the almond croissant at Calabria is pretty darn good. Smooth, lightly sweet and very tasty. I think of having another but the thought of trekking down to Mexico for tacos pushes us forward.

Inside the almond croissant.

Roasting chick - very hot.

Thursday Morning Espresso

In the morning, I spy a strange espresso brewer on top of Cheryl's fridge. It's odd and oddly compelling. One where you place hot water in the chamber, lock the portafilter and press the handles down. I think about trying it, but I don't think she has a grinder. I don't even know if she has coffee in the place. Ah, forget it. I'll just go back to Calabria.

Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Stumped in SoCal

In the night I hear them talk,
The coldest story ever told,
Somewhere far along this road he lost his soul,
To a woman so heartless.
How could she be so heartless?

This morning I'm feeling a little stumped.

Last night I was talking with a friend who's known me for many, many years. She knows me very well and has followed my adventures and exploits with equal amounts of amusement, disapproval and disdain. And when I'm in need of a course correction, she's been there to admonish me whether I liked it or not, whether I asked for it or not.

She hit me with some simple science. That for years, she's watched as I've traveled the world and dated different women - always choosing to eject out of the relationship the moment before we got "too close." It's what's she's come to expect of me and how surprised (or not, or maybe impressed) she's been over the past eight months as I tried to forge and maintain a relationship deeper than two inches with someone back home.

Hmmm, I didn't know what to think at first. Did she think I was really that shallow in my previous relationships? I liked all of them. Cared for all of them. I'm still on good terms with all (most) of them. But I had to admit in the end that maybe she was right. Maybe I did keep them all short because I wanted to avoid entanglements.

She noted that it not only was out of character for me to try to have a relationship but to have one with someone at home? Unheard of. Completely out of character. I tried to argue and plead a case that she was wrong, but I couldn't. I hadn't dated anyone at home in years. I guess I hadn't met anyone I found interesting and compelling enough to bother.

Everyone I had dated lived elsewhere, she said. But that wasn't the point. The point was that she was surprised I actually tried and that gave her hope in the world (really?). She's always encouraged me to find someone to be "serious" with and I've always fought her on that request.

In the end, the relationship at home didn't work out. Toss out eight months of my life on that one, I told her. "That's not the point, dumbass," said she. "The point is that you went through it and tried, which leaves you open and ready for the person you were meant to be with.

Hmmm, seems that June can't get here soon enough...

California Love

Puff, puff, pass - do not repeat.

Tuesday, April 27, 2010

Tommy Burger Again

Gerry and the Number One Special.

I'm in Woodland Hills tonight having a very quiet evening with friends. A quiet evening instead of drinking and partying - it's a nice change of pace. I feel like I'm recovering and exploring sobriety for the first time in weeks. Maybe the haze is starting to clear.

We're not doing too much except hanging and wasting time. Part of me is itching to go back to L.A. and find some trouble, the other part is cool with just cruising. After awhile we're hungry and head out to Tommy's Burger.

My Number One Special, with regular fries.

Unlike the last outing to Tommy's, this time I'm actually hungry and eating a burger. It's better than I remember. More flavor, less grease. The Tommy Burger is famous around here. Two beef patties, two slices of cheese, chili, pickles, lettuce, tomato, onions and sauce. It's pretty darn good. Not the best burger in the world, but quite good nonetheless.

Whatever the case, Tommy's has an intense and loyal following here. Add some fries and a Diet Coke and it's a pretty good late night eat.

Christian prepares to eat his Number One Special.

Cruising L.A.

Traffic on the 405 in West L.A.

Sometimes I think L.A. isn't a bad place to live - and then I run into traffic. It's 7:45pm on the 405 North and there's still a backup past Santa Monica Blvd. Unbelievable. I wonder how Angelenos put up with this stuff.

I abhor traffic. It impedes my flow. I can't drive 55. Hell, we're barely doing 25. Sucks.

As I make my way across L.A. to the San Fernando Valley, I reminisce about the old days in SoCal. Back in my paintball days, I used to stay with my cousin in Van Nuys, then make the drive all the way down to Hawthorne. It didn't seem too far back then and, somehow, I don't remember ever running into traffic. From what I recall, the drive was quick and easy. But now it's long and far away. Who knew?

Descending into the San Fernando Valley.

In my movie days, I would stay again in Van Nuys or at friends places in Los Angeles. Those seemed like easy commutes to the studios or supply houses. Now, a trip from Hermosa to Location Sound is quite a haul that needs to be planned accordingly.

I'm considering living in L.A. for the very first time. Possibilities abound here and because of the traffic, I've been considering flats in West Hollywood and surrounding areas. The one house in the Hollywood Hills looked pretty tempting, but at $4,000/mo. I thought it better to pass.

One of the girls out here encouraged me to live in Marina Del Rey, which is quite nice and by the water, but I'm not sure about the commute to WeHo - although she assures me that her commute to Beverly Hills is about fifteen minutes. We'll see.

King's Hawaiian

Hawaiian Sweet Bread French Toast

Years ago, when I used to live in Honolulu, my friends and I used to go to the old King's Bakery Coffee Shop on South King Street. Fond memories of the Hawaiian sweet bread french toast and early morning shop talk.

Today, the old bakery and coffee shop are gone - replaced by the new bakery in Torrance. No more King's in Honolulu. With that in mind, I headed over to the Torrance location in search of french toast and found it just as good as I remembered. How nice it is when you can eat something so comforting without actually having to make it yourself.

Loco Moco Kim Chee Fried Rice

King's Hawaiian Bakery & Restaurant
2808 Sepulveda Boulevard
Torrance, CA
310-530-0050
www.kingshawaiianrestaurants.com

Monday, April 26, 2010

The Vibe Between Friends

Carlyn and Seena

Tonight I've found myself back down in Orange County to meet up with Carlyn and Seena - two girls I've known since college years. I'm nearly an hour late because of the heavy traffic leaving L.A. and then going to the wrong location.

It's good to see old friends - especially ones whom I've always been close. The conversation turned as it always does between us to a mix of sex, drugs and rock 'n roll, with something about vibrators run amok as they get worn down. Of course, there are some things in life that I try not to understand...

Tempura

Grilled Shiitake Mushrooms

Fried Octopus

Grilled Beef Tongue

Grilled Pork Belly

Tori Kara Age

The girls ponder

Grilled Squid

Grilled Salmon

Shiso Rolls

Salmon and Yellowtail Nigiri

Hamachi Kara

Rainbow Roll

Green Tea Ice Cream

Not bad...

Kappo Honda
18450 Brookhurst Street
Fountain Valley, CA 92708
714-964-4629

Gardena Bowl

Revisitng The E-Myth Revisited

Years ago, paintball master Earon Carter turned me on to this little coffee shop inside the Gardena Bowling alley on Vermont. The place has the best Portuguese Sausage I've tried anywhere.

How ironic that a place outside of Hawaii would have the best Portuguese Sausage. But it's good. Damned good. And I try to make an outing here whenever I come to Southern California.

Two Portuguese Sausage patties, two fried eggs, picked cabbage and bacon fried rice.

It's decidedly simple fare. Nothing crazy or experimental going on here. Just basic, local island favorites. And really, what more does one need? Add a little Hawaiian Sun and you're golden.

Hawaiian Sun Lilikoi Iced Tea

A close-up of the bacon fried rice.

Gardena Bowl Coffee Shop
15707 South Vermont Avenue
Gardena, CA 90247
310-532-0820
www.gardenabowl.com

Jack In The Crack

Jack's Stash

After a night of cigars with The Porn King, one gets hungry at 3am. Off to Jack In The Box for a 3 for $3 special: Jr. Bacon Cheeseburger, Fries and a Diet Coke.

Watching porn starlets around the house works up an appetite.

If You Lube It, They Will Cum

The Pool of Dreams

Nestled in a quiet neighborhood in San Fernando Valley is a house rented by The Porn King. It's a relatively non-descript house with two bedrooms, manicured lawn, pool and a jacuzzi. It is also a set that's well known to The King's subscribers.

In many ways, it's a house like any other house. There's a fridge, a washer/dryer, television, computer and the usual trappings of any home. Beyond that, there are little tell-tale signs that things in this house aren't the usual things that happen say, across the street in that three bedroom single-family.

Scattered around the house are bottles of lotion, baby oil and lubricant. The sign in the bathroom doesn't say "welcome to our home", it says "no fucking on the sink you fat pigs." In the kitchen where one would normall find a blender is an array of digital still cameras and a couple of HD video cameras, some big and some small (for handheld action, I presume).

I have to ask The Porn King about the house and how famous it is to his subscribers. I imagine that his loyal subscribers would kill to stand where I'm standing. This house is legendary. Lovers world wide have viewed porn shot on that couch or by the pool. This is hallowed ground. Real AVN Award kind of stuff.

For a moment, I imagine myself as a porn star. A stud taking young vixens by the pool on camera for the world to watch in wonder and amazement. The Next Ron Jeremy. I just need more hair (on my chest). I wonder what that would be like.

I don't have to wonder for too long because one of The Porn King's producers is banging a model in one of the bedrooms. A producer banging a real, certifiable porn star. The Porn King tells me her name and she's well-known. I'm amazed. Maybe that could be me.

But I'm not here to bang porn stars (though I could be persuaded), I'm here to hang and talk shop with The Porn King. The King and I go way back. Back to when he was just a regular guy in the world and not the industry mogul that he is today. Tonight it's a casual and relaxed night of steak, cigars and drinks by the famous pool (and not on the famous couches).

It's then that I realize how difficult it would be to live in this house. Producers in one room banging porn stars, web designers in the living room coding the websites and models milling about. If I lived here, I don't think I could get anything done, much less wear anything but a robe.

The odd thing is that in spite of all this, it's the most relaxed, casual and least action-intensive night I've had since arriving in Southern California nearly two weeks ago.

Sunday, April 25, 2010

Quest For Coffee

Laila and the not so very good coffee.

Being a professional barista constantly leaves me in the odd and sometimes uncomfortable position of not being able to share the same enthusiasm of my friends and associates for their favorite coffees and coffee places. People always ask me what I think of this coffee or that coffee shop and regardless of what I really think, I hate to disparage their favorites.

Compounding the situation is that I have the rare luxury of working with some of the finest coffees available and brewing those coffees to very specific standards to produce specific and consistent results. Which makes it personally difficult for me when friends ask my opinion on coffee.

Our Chariot to the Stars

So, after buying a coffee across the street, Laila asks me what I think of the coffee. It's bland because they didn't use enough coffee to brew and the coffee itself is over roasted because I can taste the faint carbon char. Overall, it's watery and not very good and I'm hesitant to say that to Laila until she starts describing it similar to the way I'm tasting.

Ah, relief! I hate coming off as some sort of coffee geek or coffee snob. Since her palate is sensitive enough to describe the coffee in that way, I'm comfortable talking about my interpretation. It's not very good.

Arriving at Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf

After a quick conference, we decide to head over to Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf for better coffee. At the very least, Coffee Bean will have better and consistent brewing standards - and their coffee is somewhat decent as far as the chains go.

A few minutes later, I have a coffee in hand (with cream and sugar, please) and a crispy rice square. The Colombian is decent and has a nice flavor to it. The crispy rice is sweet, soft and artificially disgusting.

At least the company is enjoyable.

Crispy Rice Square (why?) and a 12z Colombia.

Redondo Beach Brewing Company

Like father, like son.

With Michelle and Christian flying in from Tokyo, our group needed to eat someplace where we could spread out with babies - off to the Redondo Beach Brewing Company we went.

What can be said about the food? It's typical brew pub fare. Mostly frozen, mostly plain, mostly simple and casual fare. Nothing challenging or particularly exciting to please the masses. But sometimes, a plate of nachos is just what fits the bill. I mean, it's really about the company anyway, right?