Cobb

47 Spoonfuls

This afternoon I ate like a monk. An astronaut. A prisoner. 

I calmed myself down, slowed my breakthing, selected the pot. I opened up the can of tomato soup reminding myself of the sacrcity of this, in deep space. I marvelled at how effective the artificial gravity was, keeping the flame low as the pot warmed on the luxurious four burner stove. Gas. I remember when I could only find electric. I adjusted the flame down.

The one can of water I stirred in came from the two gallon canister on the counter, next to the rotating spice rack. I have it all. I selected a wooden spoon, no put that back. I selected a plastic ladle from the selection. I stirred gently, removed it and placed it on a paper towel.

I walked slowly to the living room and sat at the piano. I played with two hands remembering that I type so much that I have to force my fingers to work more than one at a time. I stretched them. I played a major scale in C, boring. I returned to the kitchen. The soup was ready.

I selected a bowl from the cabinet on the East wall. It was not Borky sized, but more appropriate to lunch - my midday half meal. I ladled out several until the bowl was 75% capacity and took it to the wooden table. It's quiet downstairs. 

I took my time with each spoonful, the temperature was perfect - I never had to blow. The scrim of red liquid contrast against the white porcelain as the level of soup went down. I counted. At 13, it seemed that I had an infinite amount and that the meal would last an eternity, and so it became my last meal. I would savor every moment and enjoy every bit of pleasure that can come from tomato soup. By this time, that amount seemed to be more than I deserved; I was going to die after the last spoon. I couldn't be more satisfied.

My eyes glanced aross the table to the folded bag of Doritos. I ignored them. I was eating my soup and there was nothing else in the world save me and this time with it. At 36 I started eating faster and forced myself to slow down. Don't lose count. Breathe. This is a perfect meal. I can do this for the rest of my life.

 

185% Poverty

I came upon a bit of statistical propaganda today - all for a good cause of course. I was re-introduced to the term 'Food Security'. What the heck is 'food security'? Are the people hungry or not? Are they starving or just hungry?

I leave it to you as an exercise to get a handle around the concept. I will do it in terms of historical comparison. Which is to say, to flesh out my Peasant Theory int he context of what Americans take for granted and what the world standard for hunger and poverty actually is. Always in the back of my mind is the Gapminder. By world standards, poverty is defined as living on less than $2 per day. Yes that's two.  So ask yourself, while you are watching one of the Discovery Channel survival shows exactly how many calories you really need. Since we live in America nobody really says. Wolfram says anywhere between 1600 and 2800. Everywhere on the web there are Body Mass Index calculators which are just guides to help you become slim by convincing you that you are overweight. But that's not about the biological facts of what is necessary for you to survive. So such a wide range makes me want to hazard a guess, but I won't. I'll just say that hunger is relative. Consider the following survey question:

 “We relied on only a few kinds of low-cost food to feed our children because we were running out of money to buy food.” Was that often, sometimes, or never true for you in the last 12 months?

Hell, I ate mackerel when I was a kid because we couldn't afford Chicken of the Sea. We endured the shame of shopping at Lucky Supermarkets and ate plain wrap. Horror of horrors.

Fortunately, there is some nice transparency if you want to dig into the matter. A reasonably complete accounting of the terms and methods can be found at the USDA. Since I look at boundary conditions, I immediately went to check out Wilcox County, Alabama which had the highest rate of food insecurity in America - something on the order of 38 percent. It turns out that Wilcox County's population has been shrinking since after WW2 and is now about 11,000 folks with only 13 people per square mile. I'm not surprised that there are people who miss meals in Alabama, and it stands to reason that when you're that far out in the sticks, there ain't much work nor an easy way to get McNuggets. 

What strikes me when I read such matters (and in parallel, I'm reading Niall Ferguson's latest book which reveals that in 16th Century Western Europe the murder rate was 50/100,000 and the average height of a Frenchman was 5' 4") is how it is somewhat relativistic. In particular, coming across this particular paragraph was remarkable:

While children are usually shielded from the disrupted eating patterns and reduced food intake that characterize very low food security, both children and adults experienced instances of very low food security in 1.0 percent of households with children (386,000 households) in 2010, essentially unchanged from 1.2 percent in 2009. However, among households with children in which incomes were below 185 percent of the poverty line, the percentage with very low food security among children declined from 2.9 percent in 2009 to 2.1 percent in 2010. 

Several observations:

1. I recall that there are 119M households in America. About 38M have children. 

2. Incomes below 185% of the poverty line.. OK the poverty line is not a line so much as a matrix. Here's the matrix:

 

 

Size of family unit	100  Percent of Poverty	110  Percent of Poverty	125  Percent of Poverty	150  Percent of Poverty	175  Percent of Poverty	185 Percent of Poverty	200 Percent of Poverty
1	$10,830	$11,913	$13,538	$16,245	$18,953	$20,036	$21,660
2	$14,570	$16,027	$18,213	$21,855	$25,498	$26,955	$29,140
3	$18,310	$20,141	$22,888	$27,465	$32,043	$33,874	$36,620
4	$22,050	$24,255	$27,563	$33,075	$38,588	$40,793	$44,100
5	$25,790	$28,369	$32,238	$38,685	$45,133	$47,712	$51,580
6	$29,530	$32,483	$36,913	$44,295	$51,678	$54,631	$59,060
7	$33,270	$36,597	$41,588	$49,905	$58,223	$61,550	$66,540
8	$37,010	$40,711	$46,263	$55,515	$64,768	$68,469	$74,020

 

 

 

So apparently it's a regular thing to not just talk about poverty, but people who are near to poverty. We are being statistically inclusive when we talk about 'the poor'. 

An old friend of mine used to joke about the 'LA Poverty Line' which for single hale fellows well met was 36K in 1985. By which we meant that our basic necessities included a sporty automobile and a nice apartment near the beach. Both of us celebrated when we rose above that 'poverty' line. And while today we can easily be considered to be part of the 5%, what I refer to as The Slice, it's clear that while we were joking about poverty inflation, others in the government were not and are not. 

Clearly it would be an abomination to inflate America's baseline poverty rate to something like the 150% or 185% levels. But we accomodate the public interest in fractions above 1% by including the inflated poverty benchmarks. It *is* interesting to know that food security in the 185% poverty category for children decreased 80 basis points from 2009 to 2010 from 2.9 to 2.1% - even though most of the general public doesn't use the term 'basis point'. 

I think I would actually like to see the return of plain wrap, but they'd compete with store brands and probably wouldn't do so well. The American poor. How poor are they?

Molecular Gastronomy at wd-50

There's only one problem with New American - which is that they tend to assume that everyone is on a diet. It's a fair assumption because most people who can afford to blow 100 bucks on a meal are probably that fastidious. Me? I just like to eat good food and tell off-color jokes. Since I had the private dining experience at wd-50, I could laugh as loud as I wanted.

Even for jaded road warriors like me who are apt to say about different food combinations - it all goes down the same hole - I have never seen such a variety of ingredients combined. Dude must be back there with a Kabbalah random number generator to come up with these. Two words, tobasco & caviar. I didn't try that one, but that's your first clue.

What I did have was an amazingly poofy foie gras with beets and sweets that made me hungry for more wine and thirsty for the main course which was a multitextured sea bass.  It  seemed almost engineered to have a marvelously crispy skin outside of the moist meat - like they cooked them in separate heats or methods and then stitched them together for presentation. 

Maybe I'm thinking about Molecular Gastronomy, which is what Chef D is pioneering out here. Don't ask me about the details, but the results are kinda fascinating. 

Service is the new world class, in the way that Steve Jobs makes business casual. You get the best, but it's all dressed in soft cotton, not starched. Or maybe it's something about the best New York waitstaff that don't need to be actors and thus puff up their presentation. Every motion spoiled us and the surprises kept coming.

So here's the thing that makes the rank of the fifth star, which as my readers know, is only given when I get something I have never gotten before. This time that magic word is dirt. Yes dirt.

Have you ever been in the open air after a summer shower and you smell the fresh dirt? If you know that experience, you know how wonderful it is to be alive. But have you ever thought for a moment how somebody might translate that into something edible? That's what I experienced last night. I don't know how, but there was this crumbly stuff in my palate cleanser after the main course, presaging something in my desert that was like eating earth. It was such a magnificent surprise that it completely blew away my fat gutted snark about the minimalist California portion trend in New American. (Especially considering my recent trip to JacquesImo in New Orleans). Maybe that was the Forbidden Rice or one of the other exotic ingredients for which I have only the slimmest vocab, but it was a sock knocker. 

They say that the job of the best restaurant is to delight, which is a tall order for us rich, jaded, spoiled, loud mouthed Americains. How do you provide such a casual luxury? I only know it when I see it, and that's what wd-50 did.

 

Galco Saturday

The best thing about Galco's is that getting home and opening up the sodas is not anti-climatic. In case you've been under a rock (which is often a good place to be when it's raining Tiger Woods stories), you should know about Galco's Soda Pop Shop. I was made aware a couple weeks ago, and now I hear there's an NPR story. Today there was even a book signing. First to the video that hipped me to the deal.

When I found that this guy and his joint were just 15 miles away from my house, I knew that I'd be making several trips. And so this weekend was the first.

First thing was that I had to herd the cats of my family which is getting more difficult to do by the day. We managed to get everyone together by 11am from sleepovers and sleepins and take the Pasadena freeway up to North Figeuroa into Highland Park. We made a quick stop at BofA and then turned left on York and headed to Avenue 54. That's because the Estrella Taco Truck is there. Yes a taco truck. The al pastor burrito (no guac, no sour cream) is a perfect balance. Just spicy meat held together in a perfect tortilla with the right amount of sauce, onion, & cilantro. You know there are still Americans who don't know what cilantro is. I know, hard to believe.

We wheeled back down York and pulled into Galco's. A bunch of dudes were hanging out in front eating and drinking sodas. In a glance I could tell they were either YouTubers or Oxy students. But it was the second incongruous group I'd seen in this East LA style 'hood. My family of course was the first.

Inside it is as bright and cheerful as in the color drenched video. Except the florescents weren't giving the color balance you saw in the video. But the excitement of seeing candy and soda from long lost memory was just as extraordinary as you would expect. The proprietor was there, and a bunch of employees were busily restocking shelves and pointing folks in interesting directions. The photographer took a shine to my kids. I grabbed a cart and went at it.

It took me a while to figure out what Nese, the owner, was on about when he talked about CRV and the monopolization of recycling by Coke and Pepsi. But by the time I got in the store I had figured it out. As soon as I saw a bottle of BubbleUp I remembered that I used to put them in my wagon and return them to Boys Market on Crenshaw for a few pennies each. It was the market that paid me the money and got me back in the store. They sent the bottles back to the bottler who washed them and reused them. Well the accounting geniuses at Coke and Pepsi realized that if they could get a good enough deal on recycled glass, it would be cheaper for them to make new bottles than to wash and relabel the old ones, especially as you realize many of the bottles were painted. So they argued for the support of CRV and that took their rewashing factories out of the supply chain. And it took the markets out too. So now the states run the CRV programs and they get the kickback from the bottlers, not the markets. You can argue that it's just a penny or two per bottle, but those pennies add up, and none of them go to the Galcos of the world.

But going to Galco's is not about sour grapes. It's about Nugrape and Big Red and Faygo Rock&Rye and Kackapoo Joy Juice and all those old brands you thought were gone. It's about crazy flavors you never knew existed much less made into a soda. I can't even imagine a Dandelion and Burdock soda, but there it is right at eye level on the shelf.

Moreover Galco's is about experiencing the kind of long tail personal retail that is a very rare thing in this country. There's a man running that store who reminds us that quality doesn't necessarily mean rarified and overpriced. Some of my favorite business success stories are about the man who didn't do a lot of market research or focus groups on a product, but instead assumed that the customer shared his own passion. Those guys don't often make the big time, but they make the 99th percentile because they can control the details.

You wouldn't think that there are details in soda, but there absolutely are. In fact, soda is exciting again. We've all been dumbed down with the mass market sodas, because as soon as you open the top on one of these rare brands you smell it. When is the last time you appreciated the smell of a soda before you chugged it down? I'm telling you it's a new experience. Not just shopping for the stuff, which is a delight in itself, but actually drinking it down.

My new favorite soda is Curiosity Cola. It's an astonishing drink. If you've ever had an IBC or a Jones, then you know how different a good soda can be from the mainstream brands. In my book the Fentimans are up a significant notch from them. I tried it with some Captain Morgan and it's an entirely new drink. Can't wait to taste it with Jack. Next I am dying to make a cucumber martini.

Now it's just like me to become a soda snob, but instead I have this wave of sadness in the realization of how we've all been ripped off and deprived of one of life's simple pleasures. It ought to be a no-brainer to go to the store and marvel at what kinds of goods are available after the culmination of thousands of years of beverage making. But we've just been swallowing swill. Galco's selection (and they're supplying restaurants too) is waking us up to something marvelous and oh so sweet. Tell your favorite bartender to get on board. 

It doesn't stop there. Galco's has old school candy. Yes including Nikl Nip wax lips and candy cigarettes. They have Flicks, Chick O Stick and Fruit Stripe gum. They've got C Howard's Violets, Razzles, Pop Rocks and Giant Pixy Stix. It's like going back in time. 

I expect Galco's to get slashdotted, and that's cool. He's not great because he's small, but because he's great.

Wurstküche

Wurstküche  

Category: Gastropubs
Neighborhood: Downtown

Long wooden tables, beer, sausages, loud tall men.. where have we seen zis before? We haven't although it feels as if we have.

Across the street from where Al's Bar used to be, we have Wurstküche. The food is simple as it is exotic. I am a huge fan of beer and sausage, but I tend to stray away from places where the people's teeth are too white and exoticism is sampled for its own sake. That said, I'm going to have to give this joint another sample because maybe the exotic is just what I need.

You see I got a bockwurst with onions and peppers and a Curiosity Cola, and the cola was by far the better experience. Maybe next time I'll get the duck & bacon with jalapeno. Part of the fault of this was mine, having left my reading glasses in the car I parked *four blocks away*, I had to rely on looking at what I could see in the case, rather than eyeballing everything on the small paper menu. Sure I could see Rattlesnake & Rabbit in the case, but not the italics on the menu wich would tell me 'buttery but mildly spicy'.  That being the case, I would have seen no adjectives whatsoever after the Bockwurst which would have indicated the lack of pride they proprietors take in their 'classics'. I've had better wursts from hotdog stands. The other part of my fault was my anti-foo foo attitude which was probably initiated by seeing the guy walking out of the joint with his underwear on the outside. Not shocked mind you, nor particularly disturbed, just rolling my eyes. It would have helped if they had better music playing, alas it didn't. So either Bockwurst is completely boring (I've never had it before, and the pale whiteness of it stood out) or their's is. Even though I'm writing about it, it's nothing to write home about.

Since I'm still in a lather about  Galco's Soda Pop Stop, as should every restaurateur in Los Angeles, I savored my two bottles of Curiosity Cola and said later for the beer. And I did so despite the warm and chummy extraordinary service given by Wayne who took the time to set us up with some fine samples. I liked the Christmas Ale best.

So this is a joint that's definitely up for a re-run. Maybe next time if I drink the beer, all will seem better.

The Melting Pot

 The Melting Pot gives you the feeling that you're living in a parallel universe. Everything is very much like you would expect in a luxurious restaurant except there are some fundamental changes that are both subtle and dramatic.

First off the place is gorgeous. It's dark and intimate with deep woods, frosted glass, dramatic lighting and inviting carpets. The staff is handsome, courteous and prompt - all decked out in black. For a new restaurant, it's moving very smoothly. The building is circular and the theme repeats itself in large and small curves. The bar and private rooms over to the left are just begging for a Hollywood movie crew to shoot. Although it was fairly quiet when we arrived, I can see this becoming quite the spot.

I know what it is. It's like Gulfstream or Houstons, except it's round! That's the vibe. But that's just the beginning.

The menu is half wine, and as soon as you walk in the door, you can see that they are nuts for wine at the Melting Pot. They have several hundred bottles on display in a glass case that reminded me of the house in Thirteen Ghosts. Very cool. But since you know I'm not a wine guy, that's about all I have to say about that. But if you must know, they had some bomb cocktails. I myself had a lemonade, vodka and basil concoction that was frosty and chock full of strawberries. It didn't knock me over, nor was it too fruity. It was pleasantly different - parallel universe style, and it didn't make me feel like I was experimenting with my masculinity.

The other half of the menu is what the Melting Pot is all about and it is about as different as possible. What the Spousal Unit and I had was called the Lobster Indulgence. It was a huge, delicious, continental meal. Now you've had teppan, Benihana style, and you may have even had Korean Barbecue cooked right at your table, but you have never had fondue, so get prepared.

It works like this. There are four courses, three of which center around two hot pots cooking in the center of your marble-top table. Or just one if you're a party of two. Fondue is all about dipping and boiling. You get a huge variety of foods brought to you and you dip it or cook it right at your table. Yeah. Different! The first is the appetizer. In this you have six choices of cheesy treats as a basis to cook up in your two pots. We had the triple Wisconsin and the spinach and artichoke. Hey. Hot spinach dip is like Houstons, but we're in the parallel universe and the server prepares it right in front of you. For dippin', we had apples, celery, carrots, cauliflower, crusty breads and tortilla chips. Aha, now I know what those big long skewer forks are for.

Now since the restaurant is new, the servers don't have their speil down while they're preparing, but knowing what we know of Benihana, we can be sure that they're going to have some entertaining banter as time goes by. This time I decided to dominate the conversation. Next time, we'll see.

Next comes salad. I had Southwestern Cobb. Mmm bacony! The Unit had a ceasar with pine nuts. Really superb. Hey, I'm getting full already.

The main course for the Lobster Indulgence is what this is all about. I'm going to try to spare you some details because I'd be here all day. And by the way, when you go to get this which is the full-on treatment, you had better bring your appetite, have three hours (seriously) and a watch. Lobster, beef tenderloin, salmon, spiced chicken, shrimp. Those are your meats. Mushrooms, red potatoes, broccoli. Those are your veggies. Two boiling pots of broth - we chose the Coq au Vin French and the Mojo Caribbean. And nine, count 'em nine sauces. Pick a meat, pick a veggie, fondue it for 90 seconds or 120 seconds in a pot, shag it onto your plate and pick a sauce. The combination of tastes is astounding. How is it that food so familiar can be so different? It must be a parallel universe.

I never do dessert. 99% of the time, I'm too stuffed or make some kind of excuse. I'm telling you now, there is no way to resist a simmering pot of chocolate for dipping. We had two, one with milk chocolate the other with cherries jubilee en flambe swimming in dark chocolate. For dipping? Rice Crispies Treats, marshmallows in graham cracker or Oreo dusting, cheesecake, poundcake, bananas and brownies.

I'm trying to remember how I got out of the joint under my own power. As you know, I only give five stars when a restaurant shows me something I didn't know and didn't expect. This was out of this world. I've got to go again.

21525 Hawthorne Boulevard
Torrance, CA 90503
(310) 316-7500

Pazo Restaurant

There have been several drunks in my life that I have lived to regret. I know them each by name. I'm not talking about other people, I'm talking about me. There were exactly 3 until I got to Pazo and now there are 4.

The reason is threefold. The first is that I didn't have any breakfast or lunch that day. The second was that I was in stellar company and feeling extraordinarily loquacious and friendly. The third was my bartender's invention - the Prairie Fire Martini.

I am sad to inform you that I cannot recall the name of my bartender, although he did an excellent job of serving up the fire. The tapas on tap was superb, and although Baltos(?) may find Pazo a bit pretentious and expensive, I was rather impressed by the very idea of dinner on big fluffy couches.

I was a bit surprised that the joint closed down at 10pm because I needed another hour to de-libate, and I wasn't about to go about it the bulemic way. But I was forced into the street much to my compatriot's chagrin. I managed to get back to where I once belonged without incident, though it took the better part of 90 minutes and a stop at Burger King, but the Pazo experience was still fondly remembered through the purple haze.

The Pitcher House

The Pitcher House

Category: Night Life

The Pitcher House is probably one of the best dive bars that's neither completely a dive, nor completely what one considers a normal habitable night spot. Which basically means if you go there once a week or more there's something wrong with you, but if you go once a month, it's cool. The one exception to the greater than once a week is if you're a pool shark, in which case there's a 30% chance that you're a very cool person. On the other hand, if you're sharking at the Pitcher House, how good can you actually be?

The Pitcher House is nice and spacious and it's a great place to go if you like to roll a pack of Marlboros or Camels in your t-shirt sleeve or show how cool you look in cowboy boots. That goes double if you're a chick. There's lots of basic beer and basic drinks, but I've never bothered with mixed drinks at the Pitcher House. It's all about the pitcher, duh. Well, and the tequila and the Jagermeister. Still, it's not an excellent place to get sodding drunk because it's too well lit. You can't hide your drunkeness and somebody is going to call you on it. In other words the assholes are in plain sight at the PH, and like the other guy said, that makes for fightin'.

Harold & Belle

2920 Jefferson Blvd
Los Angeles, CA 90018
(323) 735-9023

Harold & Belle's is basically the bomb old school New Orleans joint of Los Angeles.

I grew up down the street from this restaruarnt and I remember when they first opened. They are just off of 10th Avenue on Jefferson. Let me give you a little history. Up until the mid 80s, this part of Jefferson Boulevard still had trolley tracks in the street. They never came over to this part of town to dig them up and fix the street. And just past 10th Avenue was the end of the trolley line headed West. So the trolley would turn around making a left turn just past 10th Ave. The RTD inherited this property and buses still stop at 10th. Right next door to that is Johnson's Barber Shop, but more about that another time.

Harold & Belle got one or two hype reviews in the LATimes in the late 80s and then they exploded. The restaurant itself is very simple, the food is perfect. I'm telling you this so you know, my family on my mothers side is French & Indian Creole from a certain part of New Orleans where that makes all the difference. It still does if you appreciate original New Orleans jazz and Creole cooking. And of course if you ever had (no you didn't, sorry) my Anna Maux's gumbo, you'd know what I know about real good eats. Where dem folks be making groceries. I know of what I speak. Harold and Belle's excels by those standards. And now that many great chefs have been displaced by Katrina, you ain't gonna get this stuff just anywhere.

They used to have a live Jazz band come in on Friday's for happy hour and you could get a bucket of crawdads and sit five feet from them having a good old time. The oysters were the freshest and you could practically taste the bayou in them. It's been a while since I've been around old Harold and Belle's but I know it's still a very popular joint.

In fact, the last time I went to my barber, Nicky he told me our old pal Zeus got his car stolen there, not long ago. That's kind of funny considering Zeus, you know the big wrestler, Tiny Lister? That Zeus. Yeah the neighborhood's crusty but unless you're driving a big fancy Hollywood kind of car, you don't have anything to worry about. They do have a private parking lot. I think Harold & Belle will always be there, but I'm going to get down there again before too much time passes. I can't remember the last time I had great jumbalaya.

New Panda Buffet

5120 Rodeo Rd
Los Angeles, CA 90016
(323) 291-5555

"New Panda Buffet is one of my kids' favorite joints, and any time we go to Grandfather's house in that neck of the woods, they beg me to go.

This is my old stomping grounds and I remember that this building was the first black owned and operated Sizzler Restaurant franchise on the West Coast. Man we were proud to go to Sizzler and get that fat toast. That was then.

Today, Asians run the joint swiftly and efficiently and pack them in every day. If you're headed in on the weekend, be prepared to wait a little while or get there just before the brunch rush on Sunday. The wait is not bad, maybe 15 minutes, but once you get inside and start smelling all that food, you get itchy to get a table.

New Panda is really your standard buffet. Well that is if you are accustomed to the kind you find in NYC in midtown. I'm not talking about Hometown Buffet or the kind you find in Georgia. I'm talking about sashimi and maki, cold shrimp, chow mein, broiled salmon, fried chicken, char shu pork, big chunks of all kinds of melon, fresh pineapple, corn nibblets, chinese style BBQ ribs, potato salad, jello, everything fried rice, short ribs, whitefish, fried catfish... man I'm drooling just talking about it. So actually it's got more than your standard NYC buffet. It's right at the edge of a large strip mall near the old Baldwin Theatre so there's plenty of parking in the huge lot, but you may have to walk a bit.

Of course it's all you can eat, so you best believe that you're going to find some world champion eaters in this joint, so you'll need to move aside when they walk by. It's a good deal if your kids are under 10, and if I remember correctly they have 3 price ranges by age.

It's a loud happy family place and on Sunday it's pure chaotic pandemonium. You get a table and the waiter gets you a fork and a tall cup. You tell him what you want to drink and then you're off. There are something like three or four hot bars and a huge cold bar. So you're off to get a plate and pile on. But don't pile too much because they don't like throwing away food, and they won't take your plate until it's empty. Then you're free to go get another and another. That's the best way to do it, even if it means you take four trips. But at least that way, the waiter will be happy to take away your empty plates and refresh your drink.

I guarantee that you will wobble out of New Panda Buffet very happy. Bring your biggest appetite. You won't be disappointed."

San Pedro Brewing Co

331 W 6th St
San Pedro, CA 90731
(310) 831-5663

This is a great little brewpub. It's got everything you want and need.

Me? I need beer and sausages. There is really nothing to compare to a warm evening on the open air part of the pub with a tall Shanghai Red Ale and Lil Hoot's Sausage Sampler. Oh mama!

This is authentic neighborhood pub filled with a great mix of folks. The music isn't too loud, nor are the patrons, but the place is never the same all the time. Sometimes there's a live band, sometimes it's a bunch of guys at the bar watching the game. Sometimes it a nice dinner in the evening with the family. And there are always different brews on the blackboard. If you can get a James Brown, get it.

Parking is a bit tough to get and you might have to hike past a derelict or two on your way, but it's worth it. See, this is a classic no BS kind of bar. It's the kind that people from the Northeast don't believe exist on the West Coast, but you'll find men and women of all ages in this joint. I've overheard conversations with dockworkers, software people, tatoo artists and first responders. This is not a pick up joint, well, it is when the rock bands come through. You gotta love it.

If I remember correctly, they've got some old pinball machines in the back. There's something you don't see every day. The theme is nautical slash British brewpub, and every time I go there I notice something different. Bring some pals and live it up.

Icon Grill

Icon Grill

1933 5th Ave
Seattle, WA 98101
(206) 441-6330

What the heck is going on here?

First of all, whose grandmother died and willed her garage to this restaurant? OK I'm harsh. But this place does remind me of your strange aunt who is always interested in a very odd part of your body and mind. Like looking at your finger webs and asking you when is the last time you thought about using aloe vera on them to remove the lines.

People say, of course, that you're really going to flip about the macaroni and cheese. These are the same people who really like your strange aunt. Not that there's anything wrong with that. That's kinda what you leave Icon thinking. That wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be, and it's Not Bad.

Hmm. How many ways can I say that.

Icon Grill is a known quantity. It's a safe bet. It's a reasonable alternative. It's an adequate selection. It's just fine. It's really not bad at all, and of course you could do a lot worse. Bring a friend or two.

Musha

Musha Restaurant

1725 W Carson St Ste B
Torrance, CA 90501
(310) 787-7344

I only give five stars to restaurants that change my ideas about food. Musha's is absolutely, positively brilliant.

So how do I describe this joint to you? It's small and woody feeling, almost spartan. There can't be more that 12 tables, and the sushi bar is pretty small. Maybe 7 people can fit on the bench, yes bench. The guys behind the counter are young and kinda spiky looking, with that cool Japanese slacker look.

What they do with the food is just incredible. It only takes little bites for you to enter a world of flavor unlike just about any other. They offer a kind of combination of sushi and tapas. I can't even describe it properly, but it's magical.

Truth be told, you should get the rissoto in the cheese wheel and eat just a small bit then take the rest home. What you can do with it the next morning with eggs and breakfast meats is stunning.

The place is going to be crowded with some locals and some tourists. With any luck you won't be sitting next to the tourists who drink all kinds of sake just in case those unpronounceable things are.. like.. you know... icky, fer sure.

Musha's is in a very cool little minimall on the edge of Torrance but they're not open for lunch. Next door is a very cool Korean BBQ and on the other side is a very cool karaoke joint with private booths. So there's all kinds of Asian flavor inside and outside.

In a way, I wish I could keep this joint a secret, but hey. The concept is bound to spread.

All I Do

All I do these days is write restaurant reviews. I need to cross-post them here because that's all I can think about. Yeah I know Bernanke's in a bind, and the Iranians are misbehaving yet again, but I can't stop thinking about my favorite restaurants. So get ready for a whirlwind foodie style.

Whist: Top Of The Food Chain

This weekend, my anniversary weekend, the Spousal Unit and I had a bit of a getaway to the Viceroy Hotel in Santa Monica. Splendid place, extraordinary style. We had the most exquisite meal I've had in a very long time.

The Unit, of course, works in the food business and we've been foodies for a long time. But since she's such a great cook, we don't go out to restaurants as often as I imagine other couples do. Plus, when we do go out, we're mostly just satisfied, but very rarely thrilled. This time we pulled out all the stops and actually did get astonished.

Whist is the restaurant.

Here follows the best I can do with words to describe what we sampled. We stared off with a nice bottle of Veuve Cliquot which is just about the only champagne I like. Our appetizer and first course was a quail & fennel affair in a tiny pile on top of a cucumber slice, dotted round with a green olive oil. Delightfully light and playful flavor.

Next came a perfect square of melt in your mouth savory foie gras complimented by a bracingly fresh persimmon and raspberry chutney. Now I was getting revved up. What could they possibly do to outdo what they've done?

The Sous Chef, Kelly came out with the next course which was a special from the kitchen, and it was an absolute marvel. Tasting this next dish has me thinking that there's something I am just learning that chefs can do, that I couldn't imagine. But here you have these monstrously meaty prawns atop a bed of frisee and they are grilled to perfection. But let me describe this sort of perfection. The edges of the prawns are crisp and in the insides squish with all the flavor plus what tastes like a splash of the ocean. What I am tasting is perfected ocean in the middle of a giant jumbo shrimp. Still, it took me a couple minutes to get to that because on the right of the very same plate is a tiny cup of butternut squash bisque with a square of brie floating on the surface. It was, by far, the greatest soup, chowder or bisque I have ever tasted, which is saying a whole lot considering the corn bisque at Bambara in Salt Lake and the lobster bisque at the Plaza Hotel in Boston. One spoonful transports you instantly into the warmth of a ski lodge fireplace. The texture on your tongue is just fabulous and you know within seconds that you are eating in a way that you imagine you would like to every day if you were incredibly rich. This is just not food you can get anywhere. It is completely other, and magnificent.

I have another slice of the delicious rosemary bread and as much as I want to savor the prawns and squash I just cannot eat it slowly. A mountain of flavors are mixing in my mouth with the velvety warm squash and the sea-frothy prawns with savory little cubes of pancetta and the bitter accents of the frisee. It's really miraculous.

On to the next course I hardly know what to expect, but sure enough there's more wonderfulness. This time it's a delicate flute, which is a fish like a flounder. In flavor it's light and would be very much like your standard Chilean sea bass except you don't butter it down and it's got more texture. It's somewhat more firm that trout and yet still flaky like sea bass. With sweet carrots and spinach. Very nice.

Right about now I'm filling up, but wait there's more. This time yet another exotic. Venison chops with cherry glaze and risotto. Bam, right down to earth. I got a bit overly dramatic since this was my first taste of venison and made a big deal of the first bite, which was a mistake because I chose the more well-done of the two chops and I don't like my meats well-done. So I got a bit more earth than I bargained for. I'm going to go out on a limb and suggest that doing venison right is pretty difficult, but I caught on finally to the direction they were going with the cherries. There should have been yams instead of risotto if you ask me. A righteous yam with the right spice would work that venison into a good combination.

Now I'm full, and dessert is coming. I can only take a few lush spoonfuls of the pumpkin trifle and I'm done. But I manage to get down a fresh cup of joe and sip on their deliciously complex 2002 Kracher Beerenauslese. 

The service was top notch of course, and the ambiance was just right for fine dining. If you've got a few extra bucks to drop and you want to try some truly unique and splendid dishes you definitely need to head to Santa Monica and check out Whist.