Rosenthal Roasted Chicken

My friend Arlene lives on a property in the middle of the beautiful desert that consists of a sprawling garden where goats roam for milk, chickens lay eggs, trees produce amazing dates, and greens like swiss chard grow in abundance. Every few months, I am invited to dinner and am always asked what requests I have for food ahead of time as Arlene is an exquisite cook and knows that I crave certain favorites on a rotating basis. My answer is typically her roasted chicken with a big pile of bitter greens.

Recently, I was lucky enough to secure the recipe from her and try it on my own and it is now my go-to roasted chicken recipe, tasting better, and more finger licking good then any other variety I have had. I thought it only fair that my readers were privy to the moist and delicious recipe as well.

ARLENE’S ROASTED CHICKEN

Clean and pat dry a 3-4 pound fryer chicken.

Put it in a roasting pan and massage olive oil generously all over it.

Pour half a bottle of tamari soy sauce over it and cover well.

Pour some white Worcestershire sauce over it as well.

Cut up five cloves of garlic and sprinkle over the chicken and into the pan.

Sprinkle a tablespoon of lemon thyme over the chicken.

Sal and pepper the chicken.

Pour dry vermouth into the roasting pan along with some water to the appropriate level.

Roast in a pre-heated 350-degree oven for 1 and ½ to 2 hours until the meat falls from the bone, basting occasionally. 

While the chicken roasts, I washed a pound of peanut fingerlings and tossed them with two tablespoons of olive oil and Parisian herbs. This then went into the toaster oven for 30 minutes. Right before serving I broiled them with parmesan cheese sprinkled on top for some chewy, crispy baby potato delight.

I used a few tablespoons of the leftover chicken juice from the bottom of the pan to sauté some fresh bok choy from the Cute Gardener’s garden for five minutes as the chicken set out of the oven when done.

The meal was paired perfectly with a bottle of 2007 Wild Horse Blaufrankisch from Paso Robles and a Whole Foods two-person sized flourless chocolate cake with crème fraiche spiked with vanilla.

Seduced by Some Oxtail Hash

I admit I was totally seduced twice this past Thursday night, an uncommon thing for discerning ole me.

For one, I was enchanted by the idea of going to the Los Angeles downtown art walk because it promised such a proliferation of galleries in one dense space, that I thought I would be sated with art overload and get a glimpse at what the area offered. I hadn’t been to the Spring or Main Street gallery rows since moving here months ago, and thought it would be a perfect opportunity to get a glimpse. I had been to a few artist lofts on the rooftops of painters who I consider talented in the area so mistakenly thought it might be a thriving hub of close-to-the-bone contemporary work from regional peeps.

For two, I was seduced by a review by food critic Johnathan Gold for the LA Weekly in which he extolled the virtues of the best dishes of 2011. The “El Toron” baco sandwich from downtown’s Baco Mercat was on that list. My boyfriend has warned me extensively not to be charmed by Gold’s never-ending fluffy adjectives and that’s exactly what happened, I fell for his description of the oxtail hash.

This particular sandwich is served at Chef Josef Centeno’s (Lazy Ox) downtown joint where he has created a menu that he would eat at home or make for friends. Baco sandwiches are basically pita bread wrapped around various Spanish-tinged, meat laden concoctions, served alongside pizza type flatbreads and a host of small dishes like wild boar on toast and the traditional English breakfast warped Centeno-style. It’s like perfect, gourmet end-of-the-night bar food.

Only we were there for dinner, after escaping the throngs of low brow, art lovers consuming the street fair-esque aspect of the art walk, where every gallery seemed to be churning out cheap versions of copycat Murikami,  Banksy and Alex Greys. And it was so packed, perhaps because of the day before glowing review at the LATimes.com, that our waitress had to comp us dessert because first, she gave our order to the table next to us, and secondly, she forgot that she hadn’t served us our food a few minutes after that.

But all that being said, my art malaise was happily fed with this Toron sandwich, even though the potato pancake overwhelmed the taste of the actual oxtail meat. A better ratio here would easily flip that opinion around. The cheddar and pickle on this dish mixed super-tangy with the charred edges of the hash. 

Of course, I didn’t get a photo of the sandwich because it was dark and cramped with people heartily devouring plate after plate of fried chicken, massive bowls of soups and a continuous string of more and more meat, and I don’t want to be one of those obnoxious food bloggers who flashes in intimate, low lit settings….but I did manage to get a shot of the bazole soup, which I loved. Thick with pork belly and beef bits, large and chunky with charred ends, floated in this super-Asian chili spiced, version with a fried egg on top that danced between ramen and something bloody and rich that would have put hair on Hemingway’s chest. 

I also really liked the sweet and sour, homemade soda selection. For three bucks a piece you can try from over ten varieties that include Black Mint, Meyer Lemon and Persimmon to name a few.

Dispelling the Money Myth at the Farmer's Market

I've written about the positive aspects of supporting your local farmer's markets before. My reasons run the gamut from supporting local growers to getting food fresh and not stocked with longevity-enhancing preservatives and all the other ethical rigamarole. Many people typically agree with me on that end but every now and again I get someone who tells me that farmer's markets and organic foods are so expensive as an excuse to why they are still slave to their Whole Foods and Trader Joe's. Don't get me wrong, I too can't live without my weekly visit to Whole Foods but buying food from farmer's markets and organic farms is simply not as expensive anymore as it once was a decade ago when the concepts were flushed into the mainstream scene and prices were in ratio to the very low demand. Nowadays, it's definitely worth a trip to stock up on items you can't readily find elsewhere that are going to cost you a lot less than you would expect.

Here let me prove it. This morning's bounty included:

Radish and Mung Bean Sprouts that will last over a month's worth of salads = $4

Would be hard pressed to find these in the grocery store.

Bought from a man who also delivered up a $1.50 wheat grass shot, a good fifty cents less than a store bought cup and much tastier and fresh.

Mammoth brownie/cake cookies from my friend Sonia, the Gluten Free Goddess, which came with a huge hug = $6.

These cookies are so big and so moist and taste so unlike any preservative laden thing you'll find in a store bakery. Even though Whole Foods is currently stocking them on their shelves for potential inclusion. They will no doubt cost more there.
This is the equivalent of four desserts in my home.

Savory homemade BBQ tofu and tangy, spicy daikon from the Korean stand = $10.

I would pay $7-10 for each of these in a store and wouldn't have the privilege of trying three other samples of delicious food on toothpicks while browsing this particular table. Yum. As a snack these will last me a week.

Two big bags of artisanal lettuces for salad fresh from the farm with no chemicals = $10

I would pay $7 bucks for one bag in the store with a little less bulk. 

This will last me for six personal salads.

Hearty bags of filberts and pepitas for salad = $8.

I would pay close to that for one of these in the store, and don't have an easy time finding filberts in general. 

This will cover a month of salads.

Feta cheese with herbs, four big falafels and two luscious homemade eggplant turnovers from the Greek guys = 10.

That's four lunches and enough cheese for four meals.
I would spend at least $15 for this batch of food elsewhere.

2 bags of cute little peanut fingerling potatoes = $5.

I don't normally even see these in a store. 

One bag will be served in a roasted chicken meal for the Cute Gardener this weekend. 

The other bag will last me the course of two or three other meals.

PLUS: Morning walk to the market in the Venice Beach sunshine and surprise encounters with two good friends = priceless vitamins for the soul. 

Excuse me while I go turn on Al Green's "Love and Happiness" and dance around the kitchen for a while.

Salmon Belly Noodle Stir Fry For Two

One of the greatest joys of being a foodie is cooking for other people. This past Christmas I spent five hours in the kitchen crafting a five dish meal for close friends and family and although it was highly laborious and required much strategy and coordination, I got the utmost reward from seeing the smiles on the faces of my guests as they enjoyed my special stuffing and buttery turkey and all the accoutrements. I am used to being on the cooking end and have always dreamed of one day finding a partner to share my love of cooking. The idea of spending time in the kitchen with someone who loves food as much as I do and whipping up dishes together has been high on my wish list.

So when I met the Cute Gardener this past year, I was thrilled to know that he loved to cook. And not only did he love to cook, he grew his own fruits and vegetables as well. Learning the idiosyncrasies of each other’s palates, trying adventurous meals out at restaurants and long conversations about food ensued. Of course, inevitably we had to cook for each other as the pocketbooks started to bulge under the weight of our constant meals out and the fun of trying each other’s food began. Not the fancy special occasion foods but the every day at home dinner meals that occur on regular old weekdays and nights in.

This past weekend, I was treated to a beautiful stir-fry made from simple, fresh ingredients with some exotic dashes thrown in.  

Udon noodles, salmon belly to marinate, onion and oyster sauce

 Fresh bok choy from the garden

 Slightly sweet and lovely pea sprouts

 Exotic asian mushrooms

Stir fried with chicken broth into a mellow and belly filling one plate meal 

 Simple gin martini spiked with the juice of a fresh lime

The best part was realizing that our simple everyday meals are really different, doubling the potential for us to enjoy and share different types of food together, trading off the cooking duties or deciding to collaborate and create new things conjured from our individual and very different taste buds and combined to create entirely new things. The opportunities abound.  

Figgy Bliss at Il Fico

Sometimes enjoying food is all about the ambience and one of my favorite kinds of experiences in this realm happens when the following ingredients are included: a warm and sunny afternoon, an urban center, a casual non-rushed sense of time, white wine day drinking, outdoor seating, people watching, and good Italian food.

This past Saturday I found this piece of experiential bliss in West Hollywood at Il Fico where we stopped on our search to fill our mutual craving for a piece of pizza pie to carb up before gallery hopping in the area.

Seated outside amongst the simple modern décor and catered to by three eager waiters through the course of our meal, we ended up eating much more than we came for amidst the bustling sidewalk street traffic, honking traffic-frenzied drivers on the Robertson strip and other dining couples who seemed liked regulars in their snappy ordering of multiple items and blasé attitudes while perpetually playing with smart phones and shopping bags. 

A gorgeous and simple Il Campana pie with flat crust, fluffy lumps of burrata, strips of basil and roasted cherry tomatoes that popped in the mouth. Prettier than any of the lame art we ended up seeing in West Hollywood (save for the Daniel Richter paintings at Regen Projects which were great, garish displays of American war psyche and man's place in the world and the PST show at Tasende which had some interesting Latin American surrealistic Mattas but slim picking otherwise). Crust could have had a little more olive oil and salt and for $18 bucks this pizza is not something I could easily afford often which is a shame because if it were a bit less in price I would come here often. 

Beautiful little jar of chili oil with tiny spoon for drizzling over the pie to make it spicy. I am going to make a jar of this to keep at home, inspired by this nice little touch.

Even though our goal was to eat pizza, we ended up ordering the Macaroni with Duck Ragu. "Duck" and "ragu" are two things that I can't often resist and this one was really yummy, with the duck nuggets coming in tiny, meaty chunk, the al dente macaroni a perfect vehicle for the comforting sauce, and bits of chewy porcini and slivers of grated pecorini to add oomph. We didn't get charged a fee to split the dish and both received nice portions in individual bowls. 

I hardly ever order dessert, and especially at lunchtime. But at a restaurant named after one of my favorite fruits, and with a dessert that was listed as being made up of ricotta cheese as a main ingredient, I had to try the Millefoglie di Fichi. Decadent yes, worth it, yes. Picking out bits of crispy chocolate covered pieces of pastry from the pile of sweet cheese with hints of fig was a whole lot of fun with the fingers and the perfect end to the first half of Saturday.

Spotted Dick and Clotted Cream and a Traditional British Affair

The beauty of being a foodie lies in the ability to make and share food with others. There's nothing in life that brings people together like a good meal, good wine, and good conversation. For the past four years, I have been blessed with inclusion in a supper club where we rotate hosts and houses and come up with varied meal plans to tackle together. Although we've done the typical beloved fare like Italian feasts and ethnic cuisine, I always love it when we step out of our traditional palate and shoot for a meal that we normally wouldn't eat. Not only does this give us an opportunity to learn about another culture or geographic region's culinary idiosyncracies, but it allows us to appreciate a wide range of never before tried dishes.

Recently my club decided upon a traditional English dinner. When I remarked to a non-member of the club that I would be enjoying British delights, he remarked, "Oh you mean bad and boring food?" The English have been long maligned for their bland, heavy and starch laden classics as well as their penchant for strange things like herbed veggies. But we managed to come up with a menu that blended a variety of food groups to produce a pleasant array of choices.

 Stilton Tart

Shepherd's Pie

Steak and Guinness Pie

(Guinness being expertly substituted for the traditional kidney)

Minty Mushy Peas

Butternut Squash Soup

Brussel Sprouts

Red Cabbage

Cauliflower with Cheese

The beauty of doing this is that everything doesn't always come up gourmet and oftentimes we feel like we are getting an authentic slice of a region even if the choices are something we wouldn't necessarily run to over again. And then there's always the addition of drinks that make everything go down smooth. For this meal, we enjoyed wine and Guinness beer and an English honey mead for dessert; one a heavy stout and the other a sweet wine that went perfectly with the dessert of spotted dick and clotted cream that I was assigned to make.

 A table adorned with the British Flag

When guests read the name of the dessert they cringed, but spotted dick means "raisin studded fat" (or cake) and the cream is supposed to be made in an oven for hours on end until a clotted skin forms at the top, which is used to top the cake. I didn't want to spend hours waiting on cream to clot so I mixed 8 ounces of mascarpone with a pint of heavy cream until whipped and dropped in a bead of almond extract. This cream became the surprise of the evening and is something I will use in lieu of normal whipped cream again because it was truly delicious. One guest remarked that the spotted dick was only a vehicle for this luscious cream and that is the true gem of the evening that I will take away from the whole experience.

Romancing the '80s at Michael's

Last night it was time for restaurant #2 in our dineL.A. Week, which meant Michael’s in Santa Monica. This restaurant has been around for 33 years, which the jovial and dinner-jacketed Michael gladly told us as he personally greeted us, and everyone else, at their tables. Maybe that’s why it’s been rolling for so long, because people like to feel like they can go somewhere to eat where the owner cares enough to say hello and will remember their names on recurring visits.

I think that kind of congeniality goes a long way. Especially for this place, that I had totally forgotten I had been to years ago on a Museum trip, that resides in a house off the bustling Santa Monica 3^rd street promenade strip, catering to May-December romance couples and society ladies out for a bowl of their favorite tried and true fricassee salad or roasted veggie soup.

I went with the Cute Gardener and we both agreed that the food was done well, even if it were food that was introduced as haute cuisine in the 80s, and that since we were being re-introduced to it now twenty years later although it had been served consistently to customers the entire time, that we would relegate it to the nice, cozy annals of comfort food in order to give it the credit it deserves. Yes, it’s a little scary that we can reminisce about the ‘80s as something that happened 20 years ago and relegate it to nostalgia fare.

A rosy glow of candles and couples, on Friday it is clearly a place for date nights so we settled in to enjoy being part of that crowd. We started off with a potato agnolotti, a rectangular ravioli cooked perfectly al dente stuffed with potato and laid upon a transparent sliver of salmon that added the perfect saltiness to every bite. 

Also, a lovely pair of Maine diver scallops on white curly frisee, sweetened subtly with a hint of cardamom and tangerine segments. 

Everything was tasty even if the descriptions of things on the menu didn’t quite pair up with the actual dishes that arrived. My sea bass on goat cheese polenta with wild mushrooms and Greek yogurt was super tasty but I wasn’t expected a grilled, charred slab of fish. It does make sense that it was cooked that way though as it was titled Mediterranean. I ended up trading with the Cute Gardener for his duck, which included a meaty, dense and smoky candied textured shredded thigh or leg or other deep meaty pocket of flesh that made me melt.

I was pleased that Michael clearly loves art even if every piece of art on the walls added to the seemingly frozen in the 1980s ambience. Red lipstick glamour paintings and power suited females on the walls and the beginning of bleeding watercolor portraits that inspired a whole generation of today’s romantic, female contemporary painters. 

I enjoyed the panna cotta dessert swimming in a nice honey sauce although it was absent of the saffron promised in the name and textured more like a custard and not as light as I was expecting. Half of it was consumed with a perfectly paired Japanese Tokaj wine that added some spice and zest to the last part of this meal.

Dimly Lit at Lucques

dineL.A. began last weekend and it gave my culinary co-pilot and myself an excuse to throw three reservations onto the agenda that we might not have normally scrambled to make. We chose Lucques first because I have been itching to eat at Chef Suzanne Goin's French-California place but a little leery about the prices in my current budget and it was an excuse to try it out for the $44 prefixe event menu. My boyfriend, who hadn't been in four years, told me it was a place that women seemed to like more than men and this was apparently true because it was filled with three quarters of the female sex compared to the male. And it reminded me of a younger, more chic and less self-conscious version of one of my favorite desert restaurants Le Vallauris so I immediately warmed up once sitting amidst the warm outdoor space with olive green vines covering the linen colored walls.

Classy and elegant, beautifully candlelit and lending itself to intimacy, I cozied up to the experience right away enjoying the olives and boiled almonds offered on a plate with deliciously flaked salt and pads of clean tasting butter to accompany a bread basket filled with a toasty, porously-creviced and mild sourdough with a nice dark and rindy crust. Just the night before this, I had reveled at another olive plate, eaten at Rustic Canyon in Santa Monica, where the olives were spritzed with a cool lemon water and rosemary bath that reminded me of why I love the miniature globes when at their immature aged best.

The root vegetable fattoush was calling my name for a starter. As I have mentioned before, I love tubers, and was recently disappointed in my efforts at finding a good salad anywhere. This one was great: parsnips, pearl onions, turnips and beets all cooked to perfection and caramelized on the ends and sliced in julienne style so that they were reminiscent of French fries in a salad of artisanal greens and fluffy bits of feta. I didn’t see the fried pita chips that were purported to come with the salad, which is weird because technically fattoush means a Levantine bread salad, but was thrilled with the taste and it was a salad I would order again. 

And apparently I did. Because the second course, my lusted after and much anticipated fresh ricotta dumplings arrived on an identical root pile. I understand that at times like dineL.A. when a restaurant is looking for things to serve for an inflated crowd on a limited menu, it’s easy to want to buy things in bulk and make them go a long way so it’s not too surprising that the same items would appear in multiple dishes. But this is something I feel the wait staff should have been savvy to so at least they could warn diners when dishes were all too similar. It makes a smart impression and avoids the irritation that occurred when I did realize the entrée was so close in foundation to the starter. That being said, my dumplings were beautifully handmade items of pillowy bliss. Not too doughy, the steamed exteriors melded beautifully with the grainier fresh ricotta texture within giving me pleasure with very bite. Served perfectly plain and absent of sauce was a nice choice as they didn’t need anything to mingle with their sublime-ness. I could only finish three of them, they were so densely filling. 

For dessert, I chose a bitter chocolate torta with coffee ice cream and mascarpone cream. Each piece of that dish was impressive on its own, top notch in quality and all bathed in hints of smoky flavor from the few hazelnuts that studded the plate. The texture of the torta and the way it melted in my mouth was orgasmic. Best slice of chocolate anything I have had in a long time.

If I were rich, I would eat here more often. Because I am not, I will check it off on my list as a place officially conquered.

Unorthodox Meals: Passion-Inspired Rustic Tomato Soup

The tomato is the perfect symbol of passion in the vegetable world. It’s a plump, red, round gem that produces an exquisite juice and symbolizes the shape and depth of a ripe heart overflowing with goodness. I have been reminded of this time and again over the course of the last two months as my boyfriend with the green thumb has been depositing a fresh batch in a brown paper bag on my counter on his visits to pick me up for our whirlwind of various dates. So forgive me if a little romance sneaks into my blog this time because I made a soup with his latest batch that makes my heart swoon and my belly bulge with warmth. Food is also a metaphor for comfort, nurturing and love and what better way to express that than a warm and simply good soup.

I scoured the web for an appropriate recipe to depict my latest endeavor with the homegrown tomatoes and found nothing but pureed versions. I didn’t want to create something that was pureed into an equal and base consistency but wanted something that had a little more depth and oomph to fully express my multi-textured feelings poured into a pot to produce something rich and worthy.

So I read all the pureed version recipes and adapted them all into my own recipe which I proudly now call “Hearty Rustic Tomato Soup.”

After making this, I discovered that it is perfect served hot in small ceramic bowls that keep the chunks warm. I also laid some Whole Foods brand horseradish cheddar spread onto dark rye crisps that when dipped into the hot sop, melted into a deep and toasty moment of bliss that crunched in the mouth ever so slightly; a perfect accompaniment in lieu of bread for the dish.

RUSTIC TOMATO SOUP

2 1/2 pounds fresh tomatoes cut into one-inch wedges
7 cloves peeled garlic

2 small yellow onions, sliced erratically

½ cup of extra virgin olive oil

Salt and pepper

3/4 quart chicken stock
2 bay leaves

4 Tablespoons of butter

Preheat oven to 450 degrees F.

Spread the tomatoes, garlic cloves and onions onto a baking tray. Drizzle with 1/2 cup of olive oil and season with salt and pepper. Roast for 20 to 30 minutes, or until caramelized.

Remove roasted tomatoes, garlic and onion from the oven and transfer to a large stockpot. Add 3/4 of the chicken stock, bay leaves, and butter. Bring to a boil, reduce heat and simmer for 15 to 20 minutes or until liquid has reduced by a third.

Remove the bay leaves. Use a hand potato masher to loosely mash the soup so that all the roasted veggies are broken down into a consistent texture but not pureed. Continue to heat on low after seasoning to taste with salt and pepper for about ten minutes on low. Serve garnished with a dollop of heavy cream in the center.

CorkBar's Gnarly Roots

I am a true blue tuber girl. One of my favorite morning eats is in San Francisco at La Boulange consists of a root veggie pastry where the beets, turnips and carrots are cooked simply right. I like my root veggies to be soft but not texturally diluted, dense with flavor and slightly charred on the sides for a nice caramelizing in the mix.

This past week before the LA Art Show I met two artist friends Gesso Cocteau and Jim Morphesus at CorkBar in downtown LA to share a glass of wine and a quick toast before the onslaught of art perusal. Jim mentioned that downtown has changed a lot and is now teeming at every corner with USC students, which was truly the case at CorkBar. Every table filled up during the hour we were there with sprightly young and eager people conglomerating over wine and eats.

It almost felt like we were in New York in the chic bar with the lovely rudimentary wooden tables and tall ceilings and glass windows opening onto the panoramic skylines of L.A.’s glistening urbanity. 

The wine list was impressive and my $15 Keenan, 2006 Napa Valley Merlot was generously poured and jammy with blackberry and raspberry nuances. But before I could get too excited my disappointing root veggie salad arrived. A huge pile of thick-stemmed arugula was dotted with a noticeably sparse smattering of root vegetables. The carrots were disgustingly watery in texture and not cleaned or peeled. I understand the allure of “rustic” and “authentic” presentations but I could taste the dirt in the crevices of the carrots that tasted like old lady-fingers boiled to oblivion. I couldn’t really taste the other more subtle vegetables that I am assuming were things like parsnips and beets because the arugula was so peppery and spicy and overpowering that all other flavors got lost in the dish.

Maybe the USC students have become such a staple to the place that considerations on making really nice food for foodies and the like have been washed under the bus. To be fair, the menu boasts other things I would like and I should try more than a salad before making any final opinion on the place but if you can screw up something as simple as greens on a plate, other options become ever more forbidding.

Sunday Morning Bagel Sandwich Redemption at The Oaks

I had a really horrible meal Saturday night in Pomona at 2nd on 2nd. I was really disappointed because I have not had a meal in as long as I can remember that actually almost compelled me to send the plate back or ask for a refund on my check. True it was the cheapest dinner I have had in a long time but does that excuse the fact that there was a hard, white slice of tomato with a gnarly, scarred center on my burger or that it tasted like set-in-the-sun cardboard with a coating of black ash? I left most of the dish but picked out the soggy fried jalapenos from the slab because I was hungry. The waitress didn’t even charge me for my glass of wine, but it wasn’t because she was making up for her bad service and the meal, it’s because she wasn’t present enough to recall that I ordered it.

All this being said, it made me realize that I should take more time to note the everyday and simple eating experiences I come across that may not be worthy of a Michelin five star rating but are reliable sources of simply, yummy food time and again.

The next morning my palate was redeemed by such an experience at The Oaks Gourmet Fine Foods andSpirits market in Hollywood, where we stopped for a quick breakfast/lunch on our way to see The Artist. One fourth gourmet foods and condiments market, one fourth wine store shoved into an upscale, strip mall, one fourth bustling coffee shop and smoothie shack, and one fourth café serving fare like pizza, burgers, sandwiches and salads to order. As small as the space is and as much is crammed in there to choose your experience from, I still fell in love with its charm due to the good food and the variety of people who were there obviously in on the secret of the place’s merits as well; even if you had to sit at a communal table in the middle of the store to enjoy the fare without a plate or utensils. That kind of DIY smorgasbord of people on laptops, in couples, or in for a rushed bite, added to the allure.

The menus boasts one of the Top Five Burgers in LA according to the LA List and my boyfriend, being a burger whore, had that. I thought the meat was very flavorful and the ingredients were above par but he said they weren’t distributed evenly. 

I am a bagel sandwich aficionado. Chances are, if it’s the early half of the day and I am hungry I will opt for this standard combination of egg, cheese and bagel with additional stuff thrown in. So far, my favorite had been the red pepper and Swiss version at Koffi in Palm Springs but now The Oaks has stolen my heart with its perfectly combined fried egg, grated cheddar cheese, black forest bacon that melted on the tongue with bits of pepper spice, and shaved onion and roasted red peppers. It was the kind of sandwich served warm where textures and temperatures all perfectly blend and the “everything” bagel was soft and not too hard to squeeze the life out of the more tender things like egg and cheese.  

If I lived close by I would come often to eat the bagel sandwich or buy things like the tiny Ding-Dong reminiscent monkey cakes in a non-guilt-ridden two-bite portion, the fig olive oil or one of the varieties of artisan tampenades.

The Eternal Hunt for Convenience Ramen

Looking for a quick bite before a major night of Culver City art gallery openings, my mate and I decided to try a Ramen Yamadaya noodle joint. A chain from Japan, the place was small, boisterous and filled up quickly after we initially sat down at one of the 15 or so four seated-communal tables, welcomed by loud hellos from the entire staff. Considering this franchise is akin to an American fast food restaurant only Asian-style I wasn’t exactly expecting four-star food and it’s hard to go wrong with a bowl of ramen anywhere. It’s the kind of cheap and quick meal that satisfies the soul with warmth and provided fuel for the exhibition hopping that was about to ensue. 

I had the Yamadaya ramen house specialty with tonkotsu shoyu (soy) broth that boasted lots of pork. I was satisfied because for the ten dollar price tag the bowl was large and swimming with at least seven slices of yummy plain cooked pork. A nice fatty pork belly slice adorned the top along with two nicely hard-boiled egg halves, lots of skinny ramen noodles, sheets of seaweed, assorted black noodles and green onion bits. The bowl could have arrived a bit hotter in the broth department but I wasn’t going to complain, as it was a quick-fix fast meal.

My mate had the simple nine-dollar bowl of chashu ramen with the basic tonkotsu broth and ended up dipping into the extra bits of my bowl for added flavor.

Ramen is a current obsession of mine. I grew up eating the poor man’s lame version of ramen noodles that you could buy in the grocery store for under a buck a pack. When I blossomed into a foodie in later years, my first real ramen experience was in Little Tokyo in Los Angeles where I fell in love with the grown up version of meaty noodles in smoking hot flavorful broths. It’s definitely my favorite preference in the warming, soups department.

There are so many ramen joints in L.A. that you can basically find one in every neighborhood. Considering I stay away from fast food chains of the American variety, I might opt for more individual mom and pop ramen places in the future simply because there are so many to choose from and this particular one didn’t exactly fill the niche in my mind for that favorite go-to spot. We both also agreed that we should have opted for fat noodles because the skinny ones weren’t as complementary to the experience as the thicker ones would have been.