Cooler Cuisine

On the South side of Beverly blvd. in between New Hampshire and Berendo, just before Vermont if you are heading east is a sidewalk filled with some of the better tamales I've had in Los Angeles. Now you won't see any "A, B's or C's posted outside here because the women are selling treats on the sidewalk out of a cooler.

You can't be squeemish about eating their delicious Plantains, Frijoles Negro or the Arroz de Leche (Mexican Rice Pudding) or the fact that they don't wear rubber sanitation gloves to serve you food. You have to dive in, otherwise you'll be bucking the tide of a tradition that has gone back long before you carried around your anti-bacterial wipes. These women set up shop, rain or shine.

And in the rain, their Caldo de Pollo (Chicken Broth) tastes even better. Now you might not find what you're looking for if you go there because their menu is ever changing. But this is about good fast food, something we know next to nothing about in this country. They have a respect for what they have cooked you and are more than happy to serve it up. They are not making a fortune doing this ( a Tamale costs a mere $1), but are supplying people they know with food they've cooked.

Squeal Like a Pig Boy...

OINKSTER feels like it's on the border of being a corporate fast food joint when you walk in the door. Things are a little too white and clean to believe there is some good BBQ inside their walls. And even the tray your food comes on reeks of corporate chain evil. But when you sit down with your Pulled BBQ Pork Sandwich and take a bite, you realize these guys know what they are doing. It's not food for the light at heart, or stomach. My meal alone of the sandwich, fries and a drink could do me fine into the evening. You just have to look at the people coming in and out of the place to know that no one is dieting here.

The food is pretty low in sheckels and there is a fairly large menu. There are healthy choices there, like Chopped Salads and Rotisserie Chicken but if you were with me I would suggest ordering something more akin to a Cardio-Vascular nightmare, like fries and a burger. A chopped salad has it's place and time and I don't think this is it.

WELL?
I like it. I would come back. It's in a section of Eagle Rock, known for food that isn't subtle -- Casa Bianca, Blue Hen... So come hungry and don't be shy.

The Oinkster
2005 Colorado Blvd., Eagle Rock, CA
Tel: 323-255-oink

Here's to the Moon Hitting Your Eye, In the Valley.

There is this dirty phenomenon that occurs with anything unique and unknown, it soon ceases to be unique and unknown. It tends to lose its allure. This, I guarantee you will never happen with BARONE'S FAMOUS ITALIAN; this is because of two reasons. One, most people won’t drive out to Valley Glen deep deep in the Valley and two, to the clientele Barone’s is such and institution and mainstay in their lives that all the too-cool-for-school-Hollywoood-Chuck Taylor-wearing kids couldn’t overshadow the amount of hairpieces and nail tips in one evening’s seating.

This is a family restaurant. It also is a “special night” place. There are 60 year-old couples in faux-leather jackets on a date night. You might see two sons in their 40’s taking their mother out for dinner. At the full bar, which is a great vantage point, a plumber eats alone at the end of a long day. The other night I was there with my father and my son. This is very indicative of a night there. Barone's operates on geriatric hours; meaning people are in and out and back to Dr. Phil by 5:30, so it starts to die down around 8:30 during the week. I know the red vinyl booth thing is somewhat played out in L.A. but that’s because where it usually shows up is some “hip” place that people claim is authentic but more so likens itself to a themed restaurant you’d find at Epcot Center. “Italian-like”. This, my friends, is the real deal. If you’re lucky Tom Monteleone, the brother to the last remaining Barone,’ll seat you. He looks straight out of Scorsese extras casting. Maroon silk shirt and grey pressed slacks. Hair immaculate. The waiters, for the most part, have all been there since the beginning and are at varying stages of disintegration. There is also a younger staff bringing up the rear in case dementia or alcoholism sets in.

Most places have one thing that is the thing to order. Despite my swaying over to the Cannelloni or the Lasagna, I have now realized there is one place to stay and that is with the pizza. There are other items, which have stuck out. The Spaghetti and Meatballs is like one would eat at a friend’s mother’s house. Note, not your own mother, but a friend’s whose mother over boils the pasta and leaves a little too much water in the sauce. The Calamari is decent. It tastes as good as the rest of the Fried Calamari of the world, with slices of lemon and Cocktail sauce (love the Cocktail Sauce). But if you were with me and were subject to sitting there while I ordered for us, what it would be is a Barone’s salad and medium pizza. The salad is the salad my Grandpa used to make me. It is iceberg and romaine lettuce, garbanzo Beans, shredded cabbage, a couple of cherry tomatoes, pepperocino, olives and a whole scallion thrown over the top. The dressing is a mix between a Caesar and Vinaigrette. The scallion cracks me up. It’s meaningless and serves no purpose unless you’re a dope like me and take a huge bite out of it, but it works in its simplicity. The way you order the pizza is “medium extra crispy”, why? A large is a size such that the middle sections wouldn’t be as crispy and a small is not enough food. Two people could share a medium easily and you can even have them half and half the toppings.

Now you can’t think of this as a Pizza place, because this is not your normal round pizza. In fact, it comes in a rectangle pan, cut up into squares like Chuck-E-Cheese for Christ-sakes. And the dough is not dough you might be used to, it is tangy in the delicious way a sourdough baguette might be with a faint taste of yeast. It's old-fashioned, a pizza from another time. For dessert I would only order the Cheesecake. It is just like the cheesecake recipe on the back of a Philidelphia Cream Cheese box. Timeless and simple. But have them hold the rasberry sauce, I think it kills the dish.

In addition to the food and almost as important is the clientele. This place is a sigh of relief in that you certainly feel like you're in New Jersey as opposed to L.A.

Happy customers

There are generations upon generations mingling, talking loudly, kids spilling their drinks, and elderly couples kissing. There is also entertainment, which I have yet to have seen. I generally see a grey-haired man tinkering behind the dance floor (yes, dance floor, one can only imagine) with a keyboard, but he just never seems to get around to singing. And, if you grab the photocopied calendar of entertainment on the way out you will see there is Comedy Night. For the love of God, I must see Comedy Night. I’m sure Sheckie Green would be proud.

One of my favorite things to do with my girlfriend is sit over a meal at the end of the day and comment on all the characters devouring their Sand Dabs and Pizza at Barone’s. They are numerous and loaded with history. But I can’t help thinking that there is a grey-haired man in a Member's Only Jacket with his wife in the corner booth talking about me, as I wipe the sauce from my chin and glance down at the oil stain on my pants.


WELL?
Grab a family member, hell, grab a bunch and order a couple mediums extra crispy.

Barone's
13726 Oxnard Street (near the corner of Woodman)
Valley Glen, CA 91401
818.782.6004

Save It For Group

In L.A. we have a funny relationship with carbohydrates. Christ, we have a funny relationship with food. We are reluctant to actually eat it. And carbs, well, we basically try not to eat them. In the 90’s, when the “non-fat” “fat-free” “lo-Cal” revolution emerged we started to get health conscious and thought cutting the fat out was the solution. We thought the yogurt with 35 grams of sugar would be good for you while you ate it in your car on the way to an appointment. In the early 2000’s the rage became “high protein, low-carb”. People thought if they shoved enough high-protein energy bars down their gullet they would magically lose weight. It turns out all those bars don’t equal food. To quote Joan Cusack in “Say Anything”, “There’s no food in your food.” We became scared of pasta and bread, save for the random trip that one would take to Italy and then come back waxing the Italian lifestyle. We would come back and stock up on Burrata Cheese, Roma Tomatoes, Basil, $30 olive oil and dried pasta from Whole Foods, which lasted for maybe four weeks after our return from the trip. But then we would move comfortably into grilled Chicken Breast Salads and lattes. We just couldn't maintain that Italian lifestyle. We couldn't hack an espresso the way we did when we were dragging our asses across the Ponte Vecchio. Why is that?

This is what I threw down when I got back from Italy this year. Ask me how long this lasted.


Well, the problem might be that we don't know how to eat. It might be our lack of moderation skills. I don't know. I do know that the low-carb movement pisses me off. The same way a TGIF, Chili's or Olive Garden pisses me off. The low-carb movement infuses us with guilt. We feel guilty if we go to Mozza, Silverton and Batalli's Pizzeria on Melrose and have a pizza. We feel the need to run to REAL FOOD DAILY (don't get me wrong, big fan) the next day and guzzle down that Twig Tea and shove some roughage down our throat.

I don't mean to sound accusatory, hell, I am guilty, and I will admit it. But there are places, dishes all over this town that will go unturned, undiscovered because we are afraid of looking bloated. But you CAN eat carbs. Go to BREADBAR on a Sunday and try anything they have, and eat one, not seven. The pizza at VILLAGE PIZZERIA. I can go on and on, but there are so many places that single-handedly moved me out of my Low-Carb support group and onto a happier life of moderation.

“Hi, I’m Pierre and I was a low-carb addict.” “Hi Pierre…”

Don't forget the Ponte Vecchio...

Here Comes My Baby...

My relationship with Angelini Osteria, a small Osteria on Beverly blvd. in West Hollywood, has been a long and tumultuous one. I was introduced to the Italian restaurant by my now brother-in-law, who invited me to dinner one night to share a place he had been coming to for over a year. Everyone knew him. Let’s face it, I was jealous. I always wanted the experience of walking into a restaurant and everyone from the hostess to the waiter to know your name and shower you with recognition. This was the case for my brother-in-law. They would bring him surprise little plates of lemon-dressed Crudo over greens and White Truffle Pizza. This was not because my brother-in-law spent his bank account there, but because him and my sister were just two genuinely nice people. “Shit, I’m nice.” I thought as I dragged my bread through some leftover olive oil on my plate.

In a pathetic attempt to be liked, I ended up befriending the executive chef at the time, Mierco and his wife who ran the pasta station, Francesca. I came at least once a month and loved it every time. I would usually order the Bombolotti all’ Amatriciana with Guanciale (pork cheek), San Marzano Tomatoes and Hot Pepper to start. This was a pasta dish that went straight to your heart. It was so unforgiving in its flavor that I could have eaten at least three servings before my entrée. After my Bombolotti I would usually order the Whole Branzino Roasted in Sea Salt. This last two dishes are ones that they still serve. They are always good, never fail. The Branzino is what I call a “nothing” dish. There is nothing they do or really need to do to it. They pack it in sea salt and open it up tableside, fillet it and slide a few vegetables on the side and it is delicious. Like most Italian cooking, many dishes at Angelini are “nothing” dishes. I remember eating at one of the better meals of my life, “Four d’Aqua” in Florence and I asked a waiter how they make the pasta I was eating that was changing my life and he of course shrugged and said, “Nothing, you know, some olive oil, tomatoes, nothing really.” That is Angelini’s. A small handful of good quality ingredients and that’s it. Fuckers.

Last night I went back to Angelini’s. Except for a quick visit by myself a few months ago, I hadn’t been back there for a meal in a long time. I was slightly reluctant because I remember my last meal for a friend’s birthday was so-so. But, I thought, “It’s a Saturday, they’re slammed, cut’em some slack.” This was the first time I had been there since I took my now Fiancée for our second date, where Gino Angelini, owner and chef, made us six courses of heaven. So I met my fiancée there, the hostess, told me that she couldn’t find me in their system. I thought, “Shit, I’m out, out of the gang. I’ve been banished for my infrequent visits.” She thought it was odd, but put me back in and showed me to my table. There, my fiancée was waiting, expounding on the perfect glass of wine with the waiter, “Something easy too drink, and not too full-bodied, not a lot of tannins.” She would say, always. When her glass of wine arrived, it was “beautiful”, she said. I love that, using the word “beautiful” to describe a vegetable or glass of wine as though it was a landscape or painting. We talked about our second date here. I regaled a few other dates; my adventures with online dating where someone would show up and had a wandering eye, something that can’t be seen in a picture or a phone call-something only seen on a first date over a dish of Pumpkin Tortelli. My Fiancee wasn’t as hungry so I ordered the Lasagna Verde “Omaggio Nonna Elvira”. This was Gino’s grandmother’s lasagna recipe. I say anything coming from someone’s grandma has got to be damn good. And it was. So good. This is the kind of dish that you take a bite of and have to put your fork down, sit back in your chair and just chew. My friend does this when a bite is that overwhelming. He actually tosses his fork on the table, as a fighter’s manager would throw in the towel. Done. The Lasagna is rich and soft from the Béchamel. The lasagna noodle is a fresh pasta so there really isn’t any tooth, making the entire dish meltable. Your fork slides through it seamlessly and even though it’s not a huge portion, it’s plenty for what it is, anymore would retire you. For an entrée I order the Dover Sole Romagna Style. This is a breaded Dover Sole with dressed greens in the middle. I am always reluctant to order a dish like this because I generally want to be utterly destroyed by a meal. My instinct is to always order a braised Pork Shoulder or Lamb Shank, something that will make me feel like a Viking after a long day, something that will leave me satisfied. But this Dover Sole was deceiving. It is soft and flaky and moist with a crisp outer shell. It’s not breaded in the way you might think. These people are not sticking it in a zip-lock and covering the poor fish with bread. Just a little, with some sea salt and olive oil. The greens dressed in olive oil and lemon. It was completely satisfying. My fiancée ordered the Spaghetti with Eggplant, Tomatoes, Basil and Dried Ricotta. She asked for it without the Ricotta as I winced, picturing the line cook rolling his eyes. The waiter suggested she have it like it was and she agreed. Thank God. The spaghetti had, as do all their pastas, just the right bite and the red sauce had the taste of a sauce that had been simmering for 24 hours. Once again a nothing dish that was sublime, and the waiter was right, you can’t have it without the Ricotta.

Mierco hasn’t been the chef there for a while. He moved to be the executive chef at Ago in New York with his wife Francesca in the kitchen as well. If you ask Angelini’s they will tell you no one has replaced Mierco, probably so as not to scare anyone off. They will tell you that John Pierro and Lucca are in the kitchen. The two of them have made it so that Angelini’s continues to be just as incredible as when Mierco was there, along with Gino, who you might spot wearing a red bandana around his neck peering over the wine bar at his customers eating. Even Gino (another Gino), the maitre d’ I knew, was now at La Terza, Gino’s other restaurant. My friends were gone, shit I wasn’t even in their computer system. But it didn’t matter. This isn’t the type of restaurant where you buy respect through the frequency of your visit or the price of your bill or the word of mouth that you’ve spread. This is the type of friend, that if you haven’t seen them in a year, they will still be excited you are with them and will let you know because they like you, at least I’d like to think, by the size of your heart. And, thank God, they want to feed you.

WELL?
I am a lover of this place, despite the hype, it has maintained its stature as one of the best Italian Osterias.

Angelini Osteria
7313 Beverly Bvd.
Los Angeles, CA 90036
323.297.0070

My Goddess, Jazz.

There isn't enough space on this page to expound on the wonders that is JITLADA. A lot of you may already know about this Thai gem in a cruddy strip mall off Sunset blvd. in Hollywood, but for those of you who don't let me school you and for those who do, let me open up your eyes to some things you may not know. Generally, when you pull up, you are greeted with what looks like the Armenian version of the Sopranos, all eyeing you as you quickly make your way into Jitlada. The strip mall is ¼ Thai and ¾ Armenian business. Once you walk in you are immediately welcomed by an onslaught of decor that is almost as great as the food. They have everything there to make you feel warm and fuzzy, in terms of decoration, from the hillside 'scape water fountain with real dry ice fog pouring over the side, to the vases of silk roses with plastic dew drops. But, the decor is a means to make you feel more comfortable, at home. It is truly a family restaurant in the sense that you will usually find most of the family there, cooking, serving and greeting you as you come in. Once you peel your eyes off the wood paneling, if you are lucky, you will be seated by Jazz. She is an adorable woman with glasses and a smile that never breaks. The allure of the restaurant for the Thai community is that it is traditional southern Thai and the allure for any non-Thai is that it is completely authentic and you'll usually find yourself as one of the only non-Thai in the place. Once seated, the menu can seem a little overwhelming even though they put those “if-you-can’t-decide-dumb-ass-here’s-a-picture” next to the dishes and cute little number, so if you’re a mute you just have to point. I’ll preface the food by saying, stating, no warning you that the food here is spicy. So, if you like real spicy, order it medium. If you like it spicy order it mild and so on. For starters their soups are always good, but beware, the Tom Yum and Tom Kah are a meal in of themselves and did I mention spicy? The Southern Thai Curry is a masochistic experience; it is a rich fiery bowl of curry goodness. Order a side of white rice; it will act like a buffer between you and the spice. The rice is there to protect you, love you, keep you from slurping the broth by itself, which you will be tempted to do I assure you; I’ve done it. Also order a side dish of the fresh raw vegetables. They’ll bring you a dish with a sliced cucumber, carrot and cabbage on a bed of ice. It’s a nice break to quell the heat. The Chicken Panang never falls short. It’s everything good Thai is about. It has just enough sauce but not too much to overwhelm the peppers, peas and chicken basking in it. The Southern Spicy Beef is a dish that came to me later in my relationship with Jitlada, but it has now become a staple in my repertoire; however, it is on the saltier side of Thai food. For sides don't miss the Morning Glory and Chinese Broccoli with Salted Fish. These are both vegetable dishes, made completely different. There is a back page on the menu in Thai, and if you're a brave soul, you can venture back there, much to their warning. I did it, because I wanted to feel like I was with the people, but I’ll tell you right now, it is spice like you’ve never had before and most likely will never want to have again, unless you’re from Southern Thailand. But this is the place to experiment because it is all good - the deep-friend Pompano Fish with Chili Sauce, the whole large curry shrimp, the crab and shrimp coconut curry and for you few brave souls, one of the most popular dishes that a lot of the Thai order are their steamed mussels, but for me I like my mussels on the smaller side.

Don't worry about the wine list, just ignore it. Don't even look at it. You're in a Thai restaurant after-all so order a Signha Beer for Christ sake. But remember besides the food, the allure of this place is the sweet people who run it that keep you coming back. These people have a respect for their ingredients that we, in America, don't really have a grasp on. They grow their own Lemongrass, have their Kaffir Lime leaves sent from a family member, they are proud of what they cook and want you to be the recipient of it. So just show up, ask for Jazz. If she doesn't seat you, ask for her, tell her how much you've heard about her restaurant and tell her about your experience when you are done, and remember, get the $40 hour massage (Jane or Vicky) at Thai Herb and Spa next door before you eat. The food will taste even better.

WELL?
Sometimes you love the people that run the restaurant as much as you like the food.

Jitlada
5233 1/2 W Sunset Blvd
Los Angeles, CA 90027
(323) 663-3104