Los Angeles: Vanilla Bake Shop

Chocolate topped Vanilla cupcake baby with flower.

I always find myself in this predicament: walk into a shop and wish that I had done this.

After cruising around Abbott-Kinney and exploring the bakeries there, Mom, Polly and myself headed onward to Santa Monica to visit Vanilla. Cupcakes are a side project at Spro and Mom does 80% of the baking for the shop. Our adventure today was part reconnaissance, part education and part nutrition.

I think it's important to see how other people do things and taste their offerings. It educates both the mind and the palate and, hopefully, gives one insight into how things might be done better. It's a major reason why I spend so much time traveling and write so many words on merely visiting places and eating.


Cakes and desserts

There's only one way to describe Vanilla: cute. It's such a cute little shop and bakery on Wilshire. I loved the decor and the little VBS baby jumpers that were for sale. The decor and the presentation is so well thought out. Where Chantilly's presentation was for the Japanese crowd, Vanilla's is decidedly for rich, white people - er, people from Santa Monica. It's the kind of place that garners media attention. The kind of place celebrities are spotted and chased after. And while typically, that would be a bad sign, Vanilla's just too cute not to visit.

In the case, they've got baby cupcakes and regular cupcakes, and at $3.25 per cupcake (3 babies for $5), they're not cheap. They're downright nouveau riche.


Little desserts to tempt you.

At The Spro, we sell our handmade cupcakes for $2 each - and I still have customers who complain that it's "too much." Never mind that we use the best quality ingredients we possibly can source and it costs us a lot more than Tastykake to make - sometimes I'd like to choke these people who protest too much.

But that's neither here nor there. Although, I always wonder just how many people come into places like Vanilla to complain about their prices...

To be honest, the 2000s hype over the cupcake has me a bit baffled. They're not impossible to make, and so many of them are kinda meh. I can't tell you how many have actually disappointed me - and these were from some of the most famous of cupcake bakeries. Dry, crumbly - one was even undercooked. While I'm not as weary of cupcake bakeries as I am of coffeeshops, the alert meter is on the rise.


A Box of Babies.

Vanilla's cupcakes are like the shop: cute! Very cute. I like the molds they're using to bake them in. They stand high and vertical instead of the wide and flared like typical cupcake molds. Most of the icing is merely piped on the cupcakes out of a bag. And while it is pretty and attractive-looking, I find it disappointing. It takes real time and skill to apply icing on individual cupcakes with a spatula and create designs and patterns. Simply piping on icing and adding a topping is cute and attractive but it doesn't take skill or craftsmanship.

Inside the display are full sized cakes. They are gorgeous. They are expensive ($55 for a 9" red velvet), but they are quite pretty. Vanilla also offers parfait kind of desserts. Basically big mason jars (with flip top lid) filled with parfait. It's attractive, amazing and enticing all at once. I think we bought one but I don't think we ever ate it. It must have gotten pushed to the back of the fridge. Damn.


Little Gingerbread Man about to die.

We ended up taking an assorted box of cupcake babies with us. Happily, they were good. Moist cake and tasty. I think I ate three. I think I need more....



Vanilla Bake Shop
512 Wilshire Boulevard
Santa Monica, CA 90401
310-458-6644
www.vanillabakeshop.com

Los Angeles: Caffe Luxe

A very nice macchiato on the bar at Caffe Luxe.

Next up on our West Side Bakery and Coffeeshop Tour was Caffe Luxe. Over the past year, Luxe has been quietly making a name for itself within the specialty coffee community. The space itself is quite nice. Lots of white. Lots of black granite countertops. Low granite countertops, I should add. And the staff is quite friendly.

When it comes to Third Wave coffeeshops, Luxe has got all the factors down. Three group Synesso Cyncra, grinders and nice baristas making nice drinks. At a loss for what I should order and on the verge of heart palpitations due to over-caffeination, I went for a simple macchiato.


The Synesso Cyncra - the Third Wave espresso machine poster child.

We were only at Luxe briefly but the macchiato was good. The milk was a little bubbly but the espresso had a rich dark chocolate flavor with slight bitter notes. Wish we could have stayed longer but we had a nice time checking out their place.


Caffe Luxe
925 Montana Avenue
Santa Monica, CA 90403
310-394-2222
www.caffeluxxe.com/

Los Angeles: Urth Caffe

Number 84 Gets A Bird.

For many years I've been hearing about Urth Caffe in Santa Monica from coffee friends all over. "Go and visit Urth," they would say. But I never did. Just never did. Until now.

As we were making our way down main street, there it was. And it is huge. I had been expecting some sort of small, funky little coffee joint, not some huge, towering, atrium-esque kind of coffee palace. And it was jam packed.

In the world of specialty coffee, it's still unusual to find places that do the volume that Urth does. The line was easily fifteen deep - and it's the middle of the afternoon. Of course, Urth has been here for years, it's well established and it's a fashionable looking and fashionable place to be seen. Celebrities come and go. Bimmer owners come and go. Typical L.A. dickheads come and go.

In fact, one of those typical L.A. dickheads was there while we were there. Whatever slight the staff may have caused ended up with him shouting at the top of his lungs for a "manager." Evidently, a cake he ordered was missing and he wasn't getting satisfaction.

While I can sympathize with the Dickhead, looking around I can't help wonder why anyone would ever special order anything in a place that's as busy as Urth. It's absolutely crazy in there. The pace looks furious. Oh no, if I needed to special order a cake, I'd go somewhere where it was a little bit saner. Vanilla Bake Shop maybe?

Not feeling very hungry and not really knowing what to order, I went for something "safe": a cappuccino. For here.

At Urth, you fall in line, choose a pastry (if you desire) and tell the staff your order. It's busy enough that there's a guy in the line writing down your order so the cashiers can process it faster. Once paid, you're given a number and proceed to find an open table. Since we're just getting a drink and there's an Italian style bar by the espresso machines, I go there.

Obviously, it's not chic to stand at the bar and drink your coffee here at Urth (and possibly L.A.). The barista tells me that it's okay to find a seat and they'll bring the drink to me. I tell him that I'd prefer to stand (and gawk).

Throughout the restaurant business, Hispanics have been infiltrating the kitchens. Eat just about any cuisine at restaurants across America and chances are that it's being prepared by someone who was born speaking Espanol. Even in suburban Columbia, Maryland there's a kitchen full of La Raza preparing Vietnamese Pho that you'd swear came from some Vietnamese grandmother who lived through the French Occupation and Viet-Cong.


Los Hombres making Gringo Baristas look wimpy.

I've been wondering when we'd start to see Hispanics in the ranks of specialty coffee baristas and at Urth I found them.

Here were two Mexican guys (I'm presuming considering the accent of their Spanish) cranking out really nice espresso drinks on par with those Third Wave Baristas you read so much about in Barista Magazine. The difference with these two were that they were multilingual, dressed nicely, had no tats, didn't put a lot of "flare" in their technique, and didn't base their attitude and service on the amount you tipped or whether they thought you were a democrat or republican. in other words, these guys were professionals, and they were drilling out the drinks like nobody's business.

To be honest, Urth looked like a stylish indie coffeeshop. A coffeeshop built on style not substance. I wasn't expecting noteworthy coffee. I was expecting pretty much what you'd find at coffeeshops all across America. I was expecting dreck, or some form of dreck.

Instead, I was served a tasty cappuccino with latte art that even I couldn't produce. The milk was textured perfectly. The shots looked brilliant and they came together in that proper combination that baristas worldwide seek to create with the perfect milk foam Yin to the espresso crema's Yang.

As he was pouring the milk, the design looked a bit sloshy. Oh well, I thought, everyone messes up their latte art pour every once in a while. What I didn't realize then was that the pour wasn't a mistake, it was by design. And that Pinche Loco Hombre topped my cappuccino off with a fucking bird! Gracias, mi amor.

A bird. damn bird. I've seen birds on the Internet but never in real life. Birds were something that a guy in Japan screws with and puts up a video on YouTube. It's something that these guys do for fun. For show. Something that's done in a lab or afterhours as a party prank or way to show your balls.

Oh, but these guys weren't pouring birds afterhours. No. They were pouring birds ON THE LINE in the middle of service while drilling out hundreds of drinks.

La Raza has finally infiltrated our ranks.

I must recruit them for The Spro.





Urth Caffe
2327 Main St
Santa Monica, CA 90405
310-314-7040
www.urthcaffee.com

Los Angeles: 26 Beach

Chicken Curry Pasta - Thai Red Curry simmered with chicken breast, peas and linguini.

It shouldn't surprise me, but it does. Every time I visit Los Angeles I'm continually amazed by the breadth of food this metropolis has to offer. Maybe I'm "too mainstream" but when I think of "L.A." the "hip" places come to mind. Places like Providence, Mozza and Spago. Luckily, Al, Polly and my friends live here so I get to experience an L.A. removed from the hype.

With Mom in tow, we're cruising around Venice Beach visiting more pastry shops, like Jin Patisserie, and seeing just what else L.A. has to offer. It's about 11:30am, which means it's time to each lunch.

Me? I would have gone to places that I know about. Places like Father's Office in Santa Monica or Lilly's on Abbott-Kinney. I never would have thought about the place Polly took us: 26 Beach in Marina Del Rey.

Located on Washington Boulevard, getting into 26 Beach's parking lot can be a bit tricky. As you're approaching the restaurant (by car, with the restaurant to your right), the entrance to the back lot is immediately to the right of the restaurant - which means for us, it's NOW. A hard and quick turn to the right and you squeeze your car down a very narrow lane to a small parking lot in the back. Don't come in too fast because some fool might try to come out the way they came in (wrong), or some L.A. soccer mom is sitting in the middle of lane just because, and you don't want to hit any of the kitchen help as they schlep bags back and forth from the dumpster.

Squeeze into a space and you're good to go. Walk around to the front entrance and all is good.


Polly's Ginger Salmon Salad - Fresh Sauteed Salmon with asparagus, mushrooms in a soy dressing on a bed of greens and cilantro.

The restaurant is divided into two main sections, the sort-of outside part and the inside. The sort-of outside part features ceiling height walls with overhead coverage but is otherwise open-air. The set up and decor is eclectic and funky. To the right is the inside part of the restaurant. It's much more chic looking with supple fabrics, wood furniture, soft lighting and a small bar. Surprisingly, Mom chose to sit in the pseudo outside part of the restaurant.

With a name like 26 Beach, you'd think the name has something to do with the restaurant. Maybe it's on the beach? No. Maybe the address is 26? Nope. I checked their website, but there's nothing there either, but it does state that they're celebrating their 26th year in business. Maybe in 2009 the restaurant will be called "27 Beach."

Once seated, service starts out a bit on the rocky side. Where's our waitress? Maybe a drink order? Who knows what's going on but we sit for at least ten minutes before our waitress comes to greet us and take a drink order. Normally, I'd be a bit perturbed but I'm technically on vacation and I supposedly work in foodservice - I really don't want to get worked up unless something really egregious happens. Plus, I'm with my Mom and I just don't want to make an issue of it. But certainly ten minutes is beyond reasonable.

Finally, our waitress comes and she's nice. I'm going to give them the benefit of the doubt and guess that perhaps they didn't assign her to our table but she did greet and take the order of the two ladies seated next to and after us before getting to us.


Mom and PB&J Burger - Creamy Skippy peanut butter & Knott's Strawberry Jam.

The menu, like the setting, is eclectic. On the menu are eggs, burgers, salads, Asian noodles and chilaquiles. God knows I would never begrudge a restaurant for offering chilaquiles but to my East Coast eyes, it's kinda odd. But the word is that the food is good so I'm game.

As we look over the menu, Mom surprises me asking about the chilaquiles. I know I have to have them but the only small order of chilaquiles they offer is the sinister sounding "Chilaquiles Diablo" where the menu states: "...if you are afraid of heat, stay away!"

My Mom isn't one to tolerate much in the way of spicy foods. Even black pepper can be too powerful for her. With such a message about the chilaquiles, I'm not worried about her handling it as much as I'm worried about whether or not I can handle it. I decide to go for it anyway and if it's too much, we can order the other chilaquiles that's not as hot.

When it comes, I tentatively give it a taste. It's good. The Diablo Salsa is light and delicious, but there's no heat. I'm sitting there waiting for the late onslaught of heat, pain and endorphins but it never arrives.

Years ago, during one of our paintball trips to win the Canadian National Stockgun Championship, we ate at a Mexican restaurant where we mindlessly ordered the Camarones Diablo. The heat was so intense and searing that I couldn't finish one shrimp. The pain was excruciating and the shame lives with me until today.

I was expecting that level of fire and pain from the chilaquiles but it just wasn't there. I asked Polly to try it. Nothing. Even my Mom, who cringes at the sight of Tabasco from a distance tasted it. Nothing. In fact, she really liked it. It wasn't just me. If my Mom could chow it down, there was no heat in this Diablo Salsa.

We asked our waitress if this indeed was the right order. She assured us it was. Stumped, I reflected back to a dinner we had in the summer at Thai Landing in Baltimore. We ordered some dishes "Thai Hot" just to prove we could but the owner stated up front that he doubted they could deliver because the chiles they had in stock just didn't have the heat. Their kitchen loaded up our dishes with the chiles but in the end, the heat never rose to uncomfortable levels. Tabasco would have been hotter that day.

And I suspect that's what happened with the Diablo Salsa on that day. Devoid of the fatal heat, the flavor was delicious. Mom loved it. It surprised me because I had made chilaquiles on a number of occasions and she never liked it before. Maybe it was too hot. Whatever the case, these chilaquiles were truly delicious with the right amount of crisp offset by the permeation of the salsa.

Moving onto our main courses, Polly had campaigned hard for me to try the Chicken Curry Pasta and I'm glad she did because it was damn good. And I do mean damn good. Rich, nutty tasting red curry on top of pasta with chicken - who would've thought? Oh, it was good. So good. It's thick. It's rich. Oh, heavenly. But there's never enough curry sauce. I had to ask for more. Some to finish the dish and the rest to drizzle over my body and absorb the tasty goodness through as many senses as possible.


Chilaquiles Diablo - tortilla chips pan sauteed in Diablo Salsa with queso seco, mozzarella, red onion, cilantro, guacamole and sour cream.

Polly went for the Ginger Salmon Salad, of which I had a bite (or two). It was good but I've been a bit fatigued with salmon over the past year so I find it hard to get enthusiastic about it.

Mom, swayed by my "suggestion", went with the Peanut Butter and Jelly Burger. It sounds odd. It sounds weird. It even sounds nasty but it's quite unbelievable. Peanut butter, strawberry jelly and a hamburger patty. You need to try it for yourself. Words fail. Sweet? Yes. Savory? Yes. Tasty? Oh yeah, baby.

The rest of our time at 26 Beach went by nicely. Our waitress took care of things and there were no more glitches in service. Sometimes you'd wonder just where she was - especially when I needed a side of the curry sauce, but it wasn't too long before she'd reappear.

Back out onto the parking lot, we were on our way to check out the bakeries of Abbott-Kinney and beyond.



26 Beach Restaurant
3100 Washington Boulevard
Venice, CA
310-823-7526
www.26beach.com

Los Angeles: Patisserie Chantilly

Ah Choux! - a selection of cream puffs for your gustatory pleasures.

After feasting for Thanksgiving, we're back on the streets again today to eat more. This time, Polly has taken us to a little Japanese pastry place called Patisserie Chantilly.

Over the years, I've come to love French Pastries. But, truth be told, there's always a sweet spot in my heart for Japanese-style French Pastries. Typically, they're good. Quite delicious. And while the French know how to indulge in the finer things in life, leave it to the Japanese to refine it slightly, add their own twist and present it in beautiful packaging.

While a simple sheet of wax paper might me enough for the Frenchman, the Japanese will have it giftwrapped - and that's just for lunch.


Parisian style Macarons a la Pierre Herme.

Patisserie Chantilly is a small, boutique kind of bakery. It's located in a strip shopping center in Lomita, a somewhat sleepy-looking part of Southern California. From the outside, it looks rather plain and innocuous. Inside, however, and you see what most people miss.

The decor is simple yet modern. Clean lines, bright finish and a cheery Japanese staff that makes you think that perhaps you've landed in Kanazawa instead of Lomita.


Caramel Macchiato - not Starbucks.

Hiding in the lighted bakery case is the reason we've trekked this far: Black Sesame Cream Puffs. A little baked Pate Choux, sliced and filled with creamy, buttery black sesame goodness. My Goodness, it looks quite nice!

Some of you might have heard of that imported Japanese phenomena called Beard Papa (not "Bearded Papa"), let me tell you now that these two are not one and the same, nor are they remotely similar - other than the fact they're both "cream puffs."

No, no, these are light, airy... "puffy." The black sesame cream is rich, buttery and well, kinda odd. I'm not used to the black sesame thing, but I can certainly see it going places. For me, it's relatively new and I'm liking it. Liking it enough that I'm tempted to order more en masse.


Mont Blanc a la Angelina.

The rest of Chantilly's offerings are just as good. There's Parisian Style Macarons, like you'd find at Pierre Herme except without the shiny satin finish Herme has mastered (along with the bazillion flavors they offer). I also spied the Mont Blanc - a pastry that I've only seen in one place (and the same place that made it famous): Angelina on the Rue de Rivoli in Paris. I should have tried one here but didn't. Mainly because I didn't find the Mont Blanc at Angelina to be that earth-shattering.

There's also a selection of other fine pastries and baked goods, along with a selection of wrapped cookies and other delights.


Our cream puffs are offered for Final Inspection before being packaged.

Patisserie Chantilly offers some truly delicious stuff but it caters mainly to its' local, Japanese clientele. The staff all speak Japanese and most of the patrons were Japanese. If this were a white owned bakery in a hip part of L.A. it would be as famous as places like Magnolia or La Brea. But these guys crank it out for their loyal following, and the "in the know" gaijin who, reportedly, drive all across SoCal just to have their cream puffs.


Patisserie Chantilly
2383 Lomita Boulevard, Suite 10
Lomita, CA 90717
310-257-9454

Los Angeles: Thanksgiving

Pie shells cool while Dad does sudoku.

It's Thanksgiving in America. Our holiday to celebrate the bounty of the fall and the decimation of the native population. With that in mind, I have to wonder how Native Americans have come to view this national holiday. Is it seen as the joy of bounty that everyone else does? A day to kick back with family, friends and an overcooked turkey, or is it a reminder of a stolen nation that once was theirs?


Ingredients for Cranberry Sauce.


Yukon Gold Potatoes ready for mashing.

For this holiday, I'm at my brother's house in Hermosa Beach. The weather has been mild with a little bit of rain and we've spent the day shopping at places like Marukai, Von's, Sur La Table and Whole Foods for our supplies. Our Thanksgiving feasts are a mix of friends and their dishes. For our part here's what we're planning:

- Fried Turkey
- Homemade gravy
- Fried Duck
- Spiral Ham
- Stuffing
- Macaroni and Cheese
- Garlic Mashed Potatoes
- Pumpkin Pie
- Leche Flan
- Roasted Bone Marrow
- Cranberry Sauce
- Banana Bread


Frying Turkey

Last year, Al and Polly lured me out to L.A. with my bullying them and our friends that "we must source everything local." Admittedly, I was almost tyrannical in my demands about the provenance of our food last year. Happily, our friends stood up to the challenge admirably. This year, I was a bit more relaxed about things.

After a big shopping excursion yesterday, a blizzard of cookery started today. So many items to prepare for dinner and such a small kitchen to prepare it in. I took up my post at "The Pass" and barked kitchen orders in German to my brother, sister-in-law and poor mother. Never let it be said that I'm easy to work with!


Fried Duck


Boneless Ham

While there was a lot to prepare, we methodically chopped our way through the list and kicked out what I'd like to think was some kick ass food for Thanksgiving. Al made his usual garlic mashed potatoes - a sinister blend of butter, cream and a mountain of garlic mashed with yukon gold potatoes. Aunt Josie had sent out her award-winning Banana Bread and Mom tried her hand making her leche flan in a new kitchen.

Things rolled smoothly and as dinner time approached, we kicked it into high gear. Three gallons of peanut oil to fry a five pound duck. The oil boiled angrily but promised delicious goodness from within.


Anna's Caesar Salad


A Tray of Stuffing

The beautiful thing about frying a duck is that you always get more than you bargained for. After the duck emerged from the oil fried crisp to golden goodness, the oil in the fryer had increased by about an inch. The fat in the duck had rendered out into the peanut oil and now our turkey would be fried with the delicious essence of duck fat. It was enough to make any food lover giddy with excitement.

At 350F, poultry will cook in three minutes (per pound). It would be a half hour before our turkey was ready. Time to raise the alert level upstairs.

Soon, our friends and family would gather around the table for another delicious meal.


Pumpkin Pies fresh out of the oven.


Mom's Leche Flan


Roasting Bone Marrow.


Al carves the Fried Turkey.


The Full Spread.

Los Angeles: Marukai Pacific Market

Polly and Mom choose baked goodies.

Despite what I might say in person, I like living in Maryland. It's where I grew up and for all its' faults, there are a lot worse places I could live - never mind that Baltimore is one of the most crime riddled cities in America.

The problem with Baltimore is its' lack of a proper Japanese market. Sure, we've got a lot of "Asian" markets, but they're mainly Korean centric markets featuring Korean product. Maybe it's because I lived in Honolulu for so long but nothing beats a proper Japanese market.


Portuguese Sausage, Saimin and More.

There are lots of similarities between Japanese and Korean markets but the Korean ones never seem to be on par with the Japanese in terms of presentation. Stuff just looks better in the Japanese markets and the City of Gardena has these in spades.

How I dream about the Japanese style of white bread with its' fluffy white interior and square shape that toasts to a golden crisp perfection. Slather on some butter on that hot toast and it's just amazing. The Japanese are utterly obsessed with French style pastry, done with their own twist. There's a brioche stuffed with cod roe. Amazing. And the honey butter toast. Again, amazing.


The Holy Grail of Hawaii: Zippy's Chili.

Today we've made our usual stop at the Marukai Pacific Market. While Marukai is known for it's Japanese product, this part of Southern California is also home to large population of local people from Hawaii and this is reflected in their offerings.

Alongside the Ito-En teas are Hawaii classics like Redondo's Portuguese Sausage, S&S Saimin, and the Holy Grail of Hawaii foods: Zippy's Chili. And it's only $7.99 per box (a tremendous savings over the $70 I spent a few years ago to have the same chili airlifted to me from Honolulu).


Homewares for your kitchen.

There's even gallons of Aloha Shoyu and Diamond Bakery Soda Crackers nestled into the aisles. These people don't know how good they have it here in California.

In another aisle we find an amazing assortment of white rice in every shape, color, size and variety. In Maryland, we have Thailand Jasmine and Kokuho Rose. Here we find esoteric brands of rice like Matsuri, Tsuru Mai and Tamaki. In the frozen case we find Mochi Ice Cream, Melona bars and all the Japanese brands in the Kana that I can't even read.


A wide selection of rice.

Venture over to the fresh section and the assortment of seafood is dizzying. Beautiful cuts of O-Toro, Hamachi and Uni await your selection. As I spy the dried cuttlefish and rice crackers, I laugh giddily like a kid in a candy store.

The hard part about being in Marukai is restraint. I want to sample all of these foods that I can't get at home. In Maryland, there are no Japanese markets like this, we're extremely limited. The nearest proper Japanese market is in Edgewater, New Jersey across from New York City. Too far for a weekly shopping excursion.


Dried Cuttlefish for your snacking pleasure.


Fatty O-Toro in the fresh seafood section.

In spite of the fact that I can't try it all, our cart is getting filled. Filled with The Good Stuff. Later, as we cook the short grain California Koshihikari Tamaki Gold rice, my mom remarks that she hasn't had rice like this in a long time. The short grain is rich, flavorful, starchy and incredibly superior to the Kokuho Rose we get at home.

I will be back again to stock up before my trip home.



The new hotness in rice cookers: digital controlled induction.


Marukai Pacific Market
1620 Redondo Beach Boulevard
Gardena, CA 90247
310-464-8888
www.marukai.com

On The Road With Parents

My Philly Cheesesteak at The Greene Turtle.

After a few days at home, I'm back on the road again and headed for Los Angeles. This time, I've got Mom and Dad in tow which means that we're headed to the airport early.

When it comes to traveling, my father is a bit of a worry-wort. If the flight leaves at 5pm, he wants to be there at 3pm, two-thirty would be even better in his mind.

As for myself, I prefer the endurance of travel to be as short as possible. If we don't have to check in until an hour before the flight, then I don't want to be there even 61 minutes ahead of time. Better yet if I can squeeze in at 45 minutes. Naturally, this causes a bit of friction between the two of us as we spar and parry for the advantage.

Today, I'm just not in the mood to debate the issue and since we're leaving my truck at the airport parking lot, I realize we need to get there a bit earlier than usual for me. Even after the delay of driving to the parking lot, gathering our stuff, taking the shuttle to the terminal, checking in and going through security, we're still two hours ahead of our flight time.

Luckily, there's some things to take care of before our flight. Dad wants to find a sudoku book and we're off to the bookstore. As he searches the stacks, I spy the latest issue of Cigar Aficionado with Daniel Craig on the cover and instantly nurture fantasies of my traveling around the world being surrounded by sexy women. Mom is reviewing the gossip magazines.

Even after we finish our pre-flight shopping, there's still 1:45 left before our flight. Maybe we should get something to eat.

In the D Concourse is a branch of The Greene Turtle - Ocean City, Maryland's famous bar with locations in Towson and around the state. Since I'm usually arriving just in time for my flights, I never have the time to eat here but today, we've got all the time in the world.

Right away, I'm disappointed. I was hoping for some of their appetizer options like they have at their Towson location. The airport menu is extremely limited to a selection of sandwiches. My dad goes for the Chesapeake Burger with crab imperial, bacon and American cheese. Mom chooses the Pigskin Burger with grilled ham and swiss cheese. I go with the Philly Cheesesteak.

The food is typical bar fare. Nothing spectacular but not atrocious. The fries are frozen processed fries that beg for ketchup and my cheesesteak is a bit heavy on the sodium but neither good nor bad. It just is. I wish they had their appetizer menu here.

We hang out at the Greene Turtle for about an hour before we saunter down to our gate. As we approach, I notice that they've already started boarding. Huh? Our flight isn't until 5:45pm, it's five minutes past five - what's the deal?


Mom and Dad and their burgers.

My parents don't notice and decide to go to the bathroom before we leave. No problem I tell them. I don't bother to tell my dad they've already started boarding because he'll probably get upset. As I approach the gate, I notice that the departure time is 5:25pm and not 5:45pm - ooops!

To be honest, when it comes to flying, I'm pretty bad at it. I tend to know the general time of the flight and just go with that. Plus, I'm not one who likes to board early, or even with my group boarding number (even though with my status, I can board first). No, I prefer to board last. Dead last even. I don't want to spend any longer inside that aluminum tube than I absolutely must. Besides, when you're the absolutely last person to board, you know there's no one behind you which means you can grab any open seat you'd like - it's not as though someone else is going to board and tell you that you're in their seat!

By the time my parents return, boarding is almost complete. Everyone else has gotten on board already and they're just waiting for us. My dad's a little surprised that we're the last ones left but we still made the flight and we're on our way.

Not a bad way to start our trip.

AA: Super Mario Brother

After arriving in Miami, I had been trying to move my morning flight back to Baltimore until the evening 8pm flight. I figured that since I was in Florida, I might take a quick trip down to Key West to check it out.

Unfortunately, the cost to change my flight was going to be just over two thousand dollars, so Key West would have to wait. Guess First Class doesn't have it's privileges.

I'm not the kind of flyer who likes to board right away. I prefer to be last. I've already got a seat and my hand carry is small enough that I don't have to worry about storing it. Plus, by waiting, I've avoided all the crowds and jockeying for position that happens no matter if you're in steerage, business or first. I can simply walk on, go to my seat, sit down and order my mimosa.

I'll admit it: when it comes to flying, I'm a sissy. After years of flying in upgraded seats, it's so difficult to fly regular economy. And after having status with United, I really couldn't bear the thought of flying as just a regular anonymous passenger on American. So, I went out and bought a first class ticket to Managua.

Now, I know that may sound excessive and that I'm harboring delusions of being a Big Three Executive (I am!), but when you consider that the coach fare on United was just over two thousand dollars (BWI-MIA on UA and MIA-MGA on Taca), the not quite eight hundred dollar first class fare on American is a downright bargain. And I don't have to pay baggage fees plus I get free use of the Admiral's Club Lounge at MIA.

Anyway, those reasons are neither here nor there. As I'm boarding my flight back home to Baltimore in seat 1B, I notice that my flying companion in 1A is watching a Seal video on his iPhone and listening to it with a pair of very large, full ear coverage headphones. That's not necessarily unusual but the volume at which he was listening certainly was. As I'm standing in the aisle, stowing my bag, I can hear the refrain:

"And now that your rose is in bloom,
a light hits the gloom on the grey."

I mean that shit is LOUD. I can hear it. Rather clearly. This kid is grooving to the music. He's in the zone. He's all about Seal.

After I get seated, we chat a bit. He's a newfound Seal fan and asks me if I'm into Seal. I tell him that I like some of his music but am not well versed. He's recently discovered Seal and is just digging it. I don't want to tell him that I've been listening to Seal since 1995.

I've always found people in business and first to be an eccentric lot. They have to be. Most of the people on this side of the curtain fly a lot. Typically, they fly at least 25K to 50K miles per year. Many push over 100K miles per year per airline. It's amazing. I find 50K a year to be excruciating. I can't imagine doubling, tripling or quadrupling that amount. I'd get mildly eccentric too.

My seatmate is no different. He's got tattoos, dresses stylishly, wears a fat watch and has a stack of chicken wing boxes from Pizza Hut that he starts to tear through as the flight safety video starts.

I've never had Pizza Hut wings and I've never seen anyone eat wings like this guy. He's got the technique. One bite and the meat slides off. There's none of this chomp, chomp, chomp I see at Hooter's. This efficient technique keeps the lips clean and the fingers minimally soiled. Both the technique and the speed at which this guy is devouring his wings is most impressive.

He's got four boxes but only eats three. He offers me the fourth box stating he can't finish any more. I thank him for his generosity. Actually, I could use some wings right about now.

Later, after the flight safety video is done and we're in the air, I'll eat the wings. They're not bad but they're not good either. I don't know if they were crispy at one point but the sauce has softened the skin. The wings are tender. Extremely tender and the meat slips off the bone quite readily. I try his technique and success! I feel accomplished as an expert wing eater should.

My seatmate is a pretty relaxed and chill guy. We chat a bit about Miami and what was going on that weekend. He was in town for some Victoria's Secret event and is heading home to visit his mom. I guess he travels quite a bit. We chat more about work and he tells me he sings for a living. In a group? No, as a solo act.

To be honest, I've never heard of him before and tell him that. He's not offended (or doesn't seem to be anyway), which is good sign that he hasn't been affected by the industry like many others. As we chat, I think to myself what I was like when I was 22 and venturing out to see the world. It was a fun time and he seems like a pretty good chap. As we depart, I wish him well in his life and career.

I'm not familiar with his music, but maybe you are. Here's his website.

Miami: La Carreta

When asking about Cuban food in Miami, one name always seems to be in the mix: La Carreta. Luckily, there's an outlet in Miami airport right by American Airlines check-in. I decided to investigate.

Even though I'm in the coffee business, the one drink that has always eluded me is the Cafe Cubano or Cuban Coffee. When you're so far removed from Havana (or Miami), you hear all sorts of conflicting things about how it's made. That they put sugar in the portafilter, in the cup or whatever. Point is: you can't be sure because no one seems to have investigated it for themselves.

Today, I watched them in action and it's merely putting lots of sugar in the bottom of a cup and then pulling a double shot of espresso over it. Simple. Easy. Done.


Cafe Cubano

Sadly, they're using some commercial coffee like Cafe Bustelo but perhaps that's the true flavor of a Cafe Cubano. Either way, the crema is kinda thick and the coffee is decent enough but densely sweet.

Next up, a ham empanada. The crust is flaky but the ham and cheese filling is extraordinarily salty. Man, it's like a blizzard of salt. I need water just to cut the salt on my palate.


Cortadito with Evaporated Milk.

Of course, one coffee drink isn't enough so I order a Cortadito with Evaporated Milk. It's a small drink of espresso, evaporated milk for sweetness and steamed milk. It's not as sweet as the Cubano and the bitterness of the espresso has been toned down by the milk. It's actually kinda tasty. I make a mental note to try it when I get home.

I grab a couple more empanadas with the intent of eating them on the way home. I don't actually eat them until much later at home. Both the chicken and beef empanadas are decent but still way too salty for my tastes.

Sadly, I've had better.


Ham Empanada


Chicken Empanada


Beef Empanada


La Carreta
Terminal D - 2nd Level
Miami International Airport
Miami, Fl
www.lacarreta.com

Miami: South Beach

Am I Crockett or Am I Tubbs?

With the bag of lamb safely tucked away and the top rolled down on my Chrysler Sebring Convertible, I'm flying down I-395 and Route 41 into Miami Beach. It's a lovely and cool night here but I'm warm in my optimism, plus I've got the heater cranked to Full Blast.

I don't get to Miami very often and haven't been here since the early 1990s. In fact, I don't have too good an impression of Miami with it's status-conscious denizens and ostentatious pretentiousness. It's just not a place that has appealed to me. Ever. I'd much rather be in Honolulu than Miami.

But I'm game and open to see what the city has to offer. So far, the food has been good but now I'm driving into the Belly of the Beast to see what's what on a Monday night.

Exceeding the national speedlimit on the MacArthur Causeway, I realize that I saw Mike Lowrey and Marcus Burnett causing carnage and mayhem here in Bad Boys II.


I hope I'm not Agador.

Since it was nearly 10pm and a Monday night, I didn't get the full experience of Miami Beach. No bikini clad girls roller skating down Ocean Drive, no Lamborghinis blasting Arabic music and no nightclub called The Birdcage. What I did find was a large hip-hop party in celebration of some famous hip-hop DJ on Washington Avenue. There I found lots of the requisite SUVs, Chrysler 300s and more vehicles with very large chrome wheel, lots of bling and lots of cops.

Seems that no matter where you go in the world, crowds of black people scare white people.

Not really interested in the club scene, I found an open cigar shop and bought myself a stogie. Maybe I could look like The Pimp with my cigar and rental sebring convertible...

Or not.

Instead, I took a walk along the beach, chatted with a few girls and then took a tour of the retail architecture and design of the area. From there, it was another hair-raising ride at triple digit speeds along the highway back to my airport hotel.

Miami: Molina's Ranch Restaurant

The Bread.

After the not too long flight from Managua, I find myself in Miami for the night. I figured it would be a great way to cap off my Nicaragua trip with a night being fashionable in Florida.

Of course, I'm just not in the mood for a fancy place. I could go to Cielo or Azul but I can get pretty small plates of food or fusion just about anywhere in America. What I can't get at home is good Cuban food. So, after some consultations with friends across the country and the Internet, I decided to head to Molina's Ranch Restaurant in Hialeah - not too far from my hotel near the airport.


Watermelon Batida

I don't know what to expect while driving to Molina's. Is it going to be a fancy joint, a hole in the wall? I don't know. I just heard it was the place for Cuban and I'm going there. When I arrive, I find that it's neither. It's a nicely done stand-alone building with lots of seating outside for what must be long waiting times during their peak hours.

Inside, Molina's reminds me of Zippy's in Hawaii. It's nice, it's welcoming but it's functional. It's designed to serve lots of people en masse. It's kind of like Denny's. Luckily, the crowds are gone and I'm seated right away and the ballet begins.

In a moment, a basket of Pan Cubano lands on my table. Such interesting bread cooked in such an interesting way. It's white and baked in a manner that forms a crusty shell without it turning brown. I'm fascinated by the bread.

In a flash, they're ready for my order. I'll have a watermelon batida (which I have no idea what a "batida" is), an order of the conch fritters and the leg of lamb. I had been thinking about trying other stuff but the lamb sounded so good that I just couldn't pass it up - even though I knew there were two pieces.


Frituras de Cobo

The batida was like most Mexican agua frescas I've had in the past. Watermelon mixed with sugar, water and ice. This version is heavy on the sweet. Perhaps too heavy for me since I was tempted to water it down a bit.

Soon, the frituras de cobo arrived. Conch fritters. When I ordered, I had no idea what it would taste like. I'm not even sure if I've had conch before, but it was different so I ordered it and was rewarded. At first, the angry dark brown, nearly black fried exterior is off-putting. I wondered if they might have overcooked and burned the fritters? Maybe the oil was too hot.

Whatever the case, the fritters were tasty and had no aroma or flavor of being burnt. Crispy, crunchy exterior with a nearly creamy and chunky interior. Dip it in a little sauce and you were good to go.


Laconcito de Cordero

I suspect it's partly because the Cordero is braised and partly because Molina's is ready to handle the volume, but sooner rather than later, I found my Laconcito sitting in front of me - looking very meaty and massive. Crap.

With barely enough time to break into my appetizer, I've got these tasty and delicious-looking lamb shanks sitting in front of me. I'm in trouble. Oh, but look at those meaty bones filled with marrow. I guess there is a God.


Laconcito de Cordero, arroz blanco, frijoles negros y maduros.

One bite and it's just beauty. Soft, supple, fragrant - I'm transported to a happy place. A place where meat is flavorful and tender and filled with pretty lilac blossoms. Stewed in a rich, red sauce and served with peas and sliced red bell peppers, the flavor is delicate and delicious. I want to tear into it - hard.

But I savor it. Right away, I realize that it's just too much for one man to finish. I will have leftovers and I have no dining companions whose forks I have to parry. As I savor the rich, meaty and silky texture of the marrow, I'm happy knowing that tomorrow morning, I will enjoy a breakfast fit for a king.

The lamb comes with black beans, rice and plantains. They're all delicious accompaniments but all the lamb really needs is the rice. A bed of rice to pop the flavor of the meat. Like stretched muslin, proper rice is a flavor canvas upon which one can paint a masterpiece.

As I fall out into the night with a bag of leftovers, I'm left with beautiful visions of a Cuba filled with beautiful women and tasty lamb.


Molina's Ranch Restaurant
4090 E 8th Ave
Hialeah, FL 33013
305-693-4440
www.molinasranchrestaurant.com