Archive for the ‘Los Angeles’ Tag
The distinction between a dining experience and consuming a meal is more than semantics. At Alma, Bon Appetit’s Best New Restaurant in America 2013, it’s an obvious dissimilarity.
Consider: the five- or seven-course menu are the only choices. Although asked about dietary restrictions, none were tested to see how they’d be resolved. For example, the New Zealand lamb is cooked to medium rare. If that was an issue, we were told, a substitution would be made. It was the chef’s way or not at all. Ultimately, the lamb, only a heartbeat away from a baahh, was melt-in-your mouth rich and tender enhanced by an almond milk sauce and new potatoes. Wait, I’m jumping ahead.
The repast comes with snacks: one-bite morsels worthy of larger plates. Mega-flavors are infused in pint-size portions. The first two snacks were previews of the creativity and range of textures/tastes awaiting our palates. My favorite was the quarter-size English muffin topped with burrata, uni and caviar. One bite wasn’t enough.
The meal featured smoked cod with Myer lemon and asparagus sauce; root vegetable soup poured over an egg yolk and Shitake mushrooms; octopus; the aforementioned lamb; and white chocolate semi-freddo with grapefruit and bitters. The final snack was a warm, glazed lemon curd-filled donut hole.
Alma is inconspicuous; our server was vibrant and knowledgeable. The open kitchen is the size of a walk-in closet. Six chefs with varying duties choreographed a meal that will never be replicated. There’s no real menu.
The experience was enjoyable and enlightening; I ate everything. Still, it’s unlikely I’ll return. In a few weeks Alma will only offer a nine-course menu, further reducing the choices.
Alma
Four-and-a-half Plates
952 S. Broadway
Los Angeles, Calif.
Union Station just east of the downtown Los Angeles is a beautiful historic landmark. It’s an actual train station. It also serves as a central public transportation hub, and it is the home of Traxx Restaurant.
Diners can choose from three dining areas: the small, dark dining room, an outdoor garden, or the small space cordoned off from the main hall. It’s the latter that provides lots of distractions, which is important, and people-watching opportunities. The muffled sounds announcing the arrival or departure of trains is exciting. The hall has natural wood, ceramic tile, ornate light fixtures and high ceilings.
Back to the distractions, they’re necessary. The menu is ambitious, but doesn’t quite live up to the expectations imposed by Traxx’s environment. In some ways the dining area feels somewhat dingy, not dirty but worn. The sense of yesteryear evoked by the train station is very effective, but doesn’t work with the restaurant, at least at lunch when there’s too much light.
The Quinoa Salad was, nonetheless, beautifully plated. It featured cucumbers, eggplant, red onions, avocados, cherry tomatoes and lots of cilantro with an avocado vinaigrette. The onions were the bully on the plate; they overpowered everything. The Crabcakes were nicely cooked with a crunchy exterior and thick with crab served on a corn salsa with red pepper remoulade.
Even though I wasn’t traveling by train, I was more than ready to leave the station after discovering a long dark hair beneath the caramelized sugar layer of my crème brulee.
Traxx Restaurant
Three Plates
Union Station
800 N. Alameda St.
Los Angeles, Calif.
It’s obvious before entering the doors that Pizzeria Mozza isn’t a typical neighborhood pizza joint. The valet parking stand gives it away.
The menu is another clue; there’s also the fact that the owners are Nancy Silverton, Mario Batali and Joe Bastianich. Not surprisingly, their marks are everywhere: Silverton with the baked goods, and the men with their rustic Italian flair evident in everything, and all of them, of course, in the menu.
Our server would have happily explained the unfamiliar items, but it was fun studying the menu in advance. For example, Arancine alla Bolognese. I will eat almost anything with Bolognese, but it’s nice to know that at Mozza it’s served with rice balls made from creamy risotto, rolled in bread crumbs and fried. The texture is a marriage destined for bliss.
Although I don’t recall the sequence of arrival, each dish seemed to be better than the one before. The Fried Squash Blossoms filled with ricotta looks like an ugly duckling on the plate, but the burst of flavor reveals the literal inner beauty. The Bone Marrow al Forno is rich, beautifully plated, and decadent. It’s served with roasted garlic and toasted bread, and oozes fatty beefy flavor. The Chicken Wings alla Diavola, Prociutto di Parma, and Mozzerella di Bufala, and the Bianca pizza completed our meal. The latter, served with crispy fried sage and sottocenere, is just the kind of upscale pizza associated with valet parking. By the way, sottocenere, is white cheese with truffles.
Pizzeria Mozza
Four-and-a-half Plates
641 N. Highland Ave.
Los Angeles, Calif.
Aimee Bender’s second novel, The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake, is quirky but glum. The premise follows Rose, the young narrator, and her ability to discern people’s emotions through the food they prepare. This is in stark contrast to the concept that cooking and eating meals are meant to be enjoyed and shared. Poor Rose must develop a strategy to avoid knowing more than she cares or wants, but, of course, she also has to eat.
It doesn’t help that Rose’s family is on the eccentric side to begin with. Lane, her mother, is flighty. And, as Rose deduces from her mother’s cooking, Lane is also very unhappy. Rose’s father is distant and professional. Her brother, Joe, is a genius void of social skills, with an enigma of his own. Despite the food affliction, Rose is pretty much the clan’s anchor with Joe’s friend, George.
Bender deftly portrays the efforts young Rose endures to, at first, keep her disorder a secret and, eventually, live with it. Rose is wise and perceptive; she is smart enough not to reveal too much. Although there are a few light moments, it’s more than a slice of cake that’s particularly sad. Rose and most everyone around her are all woefully unhappy.
The story’s saving grace is Bender’s writing which blends melancholy with the bizarre, while throwing sensitivity and a bit of wry humor into the mix. She’s also excellent at describing a Los Angeles neighborhood that doesn’t rely on tired landmarks.
The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake
Three-and-and-half Bookmarks
Doubleday, 2010
292 pages
Blue Page Special followers know I can’t resist mole. This is either a character flaw or an attribute, but I love the thick paste usually made with nuts, seeds, chile and cocoa. Guelaguetza Restaurant provides not just one mole item, but so many choices, we had to try Festival de Moles: a sampler of four types.
The large, colorful, Oaxacan restaurant located on the outskirts of Los Angeles’s Koreatown is all things mole. A plate of chips with mole was set on the table soon after we were seated. The sampler featured two reds, one green and one dark mole. A yellow and one of the green moles were not included. Each of the four bowls was filled with shredded chicken and subtle differences in taste, with obvious variations in color. It was impossible to choose a favorite. The dark, Negro Mole, was smoky and the color of fudge. The two reds, Rojo and Coloradito (Little Red), were somewhat sweeter, but each provided a subtle kick — the Rojo more than its misnamed lesser counterpart. The Estofado Mole, something completely new for me, is made with tomatillos and green olives for a tangier flavor and different hue.
Three of us shared the sampler. Initially we thought it wasn’t going to be enough. Four small bowls, a little serving of rice and a thin platter-size corn tortilla. We also ordered guacamole (as in holy moly, not molay),it was chunky, fresh and spicy. Before we knew it, we were stuffed and sorry we left a few bites.
Guelaguetza Restaurant
Four-and-a-half Plates
3014 W. Olympic Blvd.
Los Angeles, Calif.
A recent trip to Los Angeles to see my mom was a bit different than previous visits. She’d had surgery last month and I had gone to provide some belated help. Mostly I cooked. And cooked some more, filling her freezer until the next time I can return to offer more over-due assistance. Dining at special or new restaurants is one of the many things we usually do when I go to LA, but on this trip circumstances allowed for only one restaurant meal, which we ate at my mom’s. Thank goodness, one of our long-time favorite Mexican restaurants, Barragan’s, has take-out.
It’s practically a tradition for us to dine at Barragan’s when I’m in town. We’ve gone for dinner, lunch and even brunch. We take friends there. We’ve got a thing for Barragan’s because the food is consistently fresh and flavorful. I am glad to know those same qualities carry over when ordering in.
I ordered the Mole Enchiladas which came with a salad, rice and beans. The enchiladas were filled with chunks of chicken slathered in mole thick with an abundance of spices that blend perfectly with one another. The sweet taste of cinnamon was the perfect foil for the hint of bittersweet chocolate. Not only were my taste buds enamored with the entrée, but the rice and beans – especially the beans – were also loaded with flavor. These are no canned variety.
My mom ate very little, but I made up for it relishing my meal – food I didn’t cook.
Barragan’s
Four Plates
814 S. Central Ave.
Glendale, CA
The Handy Market is just that: conveniently located and, despite its compact size, well-stocked with fresh produce, an impressive meat counter and a decent selection of wine and beer. And there’s the Saturday barbecue.
Every Saturday the industrial grills are loaded with a variety of meats cooked to fork-tender perfection. The aroma alone is hypnotizing. People stand in line – often a block long – to order ribs, chicken and tri-tip, but the bonus is the aroma emanating from the ballooning smoke of the grills.
A Santa Maria-like style is used: meats are cooked over a hot, hot bed of slow burning fuel, such as mesquite. Tri-tip is a lean roast with one fatty side from which the juices flow into the meat during the cooking process.
A recent visit to LA netted a trip to the Handy Market. We arrived later in the afternoon and the line was only about ten people deep. A wipe board identifies the meats, and orders are placed at the window of a trailer. The grills are set up next to it in the market’s parking lot. We ordered the trip-tip and chicken. With just the right amount of salty, smoky flavors, and optional tangy sauce, the Tri-tip is the meat of choice.
Grilled corn and salads, ordered at the meat counter, are offered. Once the meats, which are sold by the pound, are wrapped in heavy duty foil there’s the option of having them slathered in a thick, rich barbecue sauce. Go for it.
The Handy Market
Four-and-a-half Plates
2514 W. Magnolia Blvd.
Burbank, Calif.
Father Greg Boyle is a rock star in Los Angeles. His status is a reflection of his strong faith; it’s not based on short-lived trends or fickle fashion. He’s revered for his efforts – actions which give more than lip service – to helping former gang members contribute positively to society. He started Homeboy Industries whose slogan is “Jobs Not Jails,” in 1988. Homeboy offers a range of services from tattoo removal to education, from counseling to career placement, and boasts several social enterprises, including the Homegirl Café, that put people to work.
The Café is run primarily by women with former gang affiliations or who have lived in dangerous domestic violence situations. The Café, as with the other enterprises, gives people a chance to learn conventional social skills while becoming economically independent.
In LA it’s possible everyone who ventures into the Café knows the story. Although it’s a good one, the fresh, enticing food is the real reason to stop by. Sure, it’s a great cause, but this is far from a charity case. All the women work hard, know the food and serve it with pride. It helps that much of the 100 percent organic produce is grown in Homeboy mini-farms.
Most of the menu items have a Latino flair. Chilaquiles combine fresh corn tortilla chips covered in a green salsa that relies more on flavor than fire. It’s topped with crema fresca and crumbly cotija cheese, and red onions. They’re breakfast super nachos, a great way to jump start the morning. There are a few alternatives to the mostly-spicey entrees, including Blueberry Multi-grain and Quinoa Pancakes. These taste as healthy as they sound, but the refreshing burst of blueberries in almost every bite makes them seem decadent.
Homegirl Café
Four Plates
130 W. Bruno St.
Los Angeles, CA
Breakfast and lunch served Monday through Saturday
The Nickel Diner in downtown Los Angeles is a trendy throwback in more
ways than one. First, its location is marginally sketchy. That’s because it’s sand-
wiched between blocks of ornate historic buildings on which sophisticated rest-
aurants, shops and lofts have taken up residence. Meanwhile, next door to the
diner are facilities for the homeless. Then there’s the food which is true diner fare
with a fun, contemporary twist: maple glazed donuts covered with bacon; home-
made Pop Tarts; scrambled eggs with Fontina cheese, for example.
In true diner fashion, breakfast is served nearly all day. Even though the mac and
cheese sounded appealing, as did a BLT with avocado on sourdough, I settled on
one of the egg scrambles: Italian sausage, roasted red peppers and parmesan mix-
ed with what seemed like half a dozen eggs. Creamy, but scrambled hard, the eggs
absorbed the rich flavors of everything else. Most diners offer a choice of sides, at
the Nickel there’s a healthy option of sliced, fresh tomatoes or the less nutritious
home fries. I said tomato, my friend said potato, and both were great. The bacon
donut was a treat; I don’t have to be healthy about everything.
I’ve been to the Nickel twice, and have been fortunate enough to be seated right
away. There have been other times, when driving by, I’ve seen wannabe-diners
outnumbering those needing the services for the indigent. I think it’s worth taking
a chance of snagging a table and mingling with the crowd — inside or out.
The Nickel Diner
Four Plates
524 S. Main St.
Los Angeles
Even though my own name belies the family stories I’ve heard about Echo Park,
I admit I judged Brando Skyhorse by his. I didn’t expect him to know much, if
anything, about Echo Lake, Chavez Ravine, and Elyssian Park near downtown Los
Angeles. Lo siento. His novel, The Madonnas of Echo Park, proves that he knows
the geography well and the community, too. Although not written in an especially
unique format, he creates a cohesive portrait of Mexican Americans in a time when
it is easy to overlook the fact that one word is an adjective and the other a noun.
Skyhorse relies on different narrators, all of whom are Latino, to relate varied
perspectives of a series of coincidently overlapping events. In their quest to wake
up in the American Dream, they recount nightmarish experiences.
Aurora Esperanza is the character about whom everything is connected. The story
weaves in and out of her childhood in the Echo Park area (when its residents were
primarily Spanish-speaking families) to the gentrification now underway. The grown
-up Aurora acknowledges that she has trouble recognizing her old haunts. Skyhorse
plays and replays the theme of being cast out of one once-distained area into an-
other with numerous references to Chavez Ravine. Families were forced to leave
their homes there to make room for Dodger Stadium.
I know the verdant Echo Park that sits like an island in a sea of automobile traffic,
and Skyhorse doesn’t just describe a neighborhood, he portrays its heart and soul.
“The Madonnas of Echo Park”
Three and a half Bookmarks
Free Press, 2010
199 pages
The Blue Page Special 