Eating Out: Dish

So, I like food. I like to eat. And on Saturday, I had to eat crow like nobody's business.

A good friend of ours had her wedding on Saturday in La Canada. I wrote on "the family calendar" that the wedding started at two. Anticipating glasses of champagne, we were ultra-responsible and took a cab up to the La Canada Country Club. Yeah, the wedding didn't start until six. Six. Six. Poor Patrick. I still feel terrible about that screw up. Sorry, baby.

We had four hours to kill so we took another cab back down the hill and walked along Foothill Boulevard, looking for a place to have a drink. We originally thought of Taylor's but they are seriously under construction. And thank goodness! Taylor's is fab, don't get me wrong, but we would have never found Dish.
How cute is this place? This is the restaurant side (can you tell it was between lunch and dinner? It got a lot busier around 5 when we were leaving) but we sat on the bar side.

Because it was the Kentucky Derby, we were treated to the Dish Mint Julip (Maker's Mark, mmm...) We ordered sweet potato fries and they were perfect-- hot and crisp without being soggy or sticky like sweet potato fries can be.

The bartender urged us to have a red velvet cupcake and, oh, I don't like red velvet cupcakes but look what we did to this one:

And then three-and-a-half seconds later:


Want one? You can either go to Dish (and you should) or you can watch how to make them here:

We can't wait to go back for a full meal!

Eating Out: Johnny Rebs'

On Monday, I was scheduled to have blood work done for my annual physical. So I did what any reasonable person would do and went for a gravy-laden breakfast at one of our favorite places: Johnny Rebs':

We go to the Bellflower location, though they have locations in Orange and Victorville. Johnny Rebs' has bad luck when it comes to their buildings. The screened-in porch above was slammed into by a drunk driver a few years ago and last year, their Long Beach location burned down (grand reopening is slated for May 16th.)

Maybe they can break this unlucky streak by opening a Pasadena location? Please? Really, I'm thinking of them and not myself here, oh no.

Now, I don't want anyone to get the idea that this is some weird California version of southern cooking. The only evidence that this place is on the west coast is the presence of a vegetarian omelette on the breakfast menu.

Their blonde ale is delicious and comes in one of the frostiest glasses you've ever seen-- it actually freezes the beer a little, making the most excellent beer slushy. Of course, it was 10 a.m. on this visit but that doesn't mean I didn't seriously consider it.

Patrick had the salty country ham (they will question you when you order it-- have you had this before? Do you know how salty it is?) a fluffy biscuit, a side of gravy, cheese grits, and scrambled eggs.

I had the chicken fried steak (crispy crunchy and tender), grits (check out that wad-o-butter. Paula Dean would be proud.), fluffy biscuit and eggs over medium. Heaven.

If you go for dinner, have some hushpuppies and sweet potato fries to start, then some of their ribs and pulled pork. They have a deep fried apple pie that I have never had the hubris to order, so let me know how it is if you do. The food is tremendously good, service friendly and absolutely worth the drive.

Eating Out: NOLA

I'm at the end of my posts about New Orleans and I'm bummed. New Orleans is a paradise for food. It's a paradise for living. Really.

I've had a lot of people ask me with this sort of sad, puppy-dog look, "How was it? Still pretty messed up, huh? Pretty depressing?" like our visit was something we trudged through, making the best of things and sighing as we laid down our credit cards. It really wasn't.

I can't speak with any authority on the pre-Katrina New Orleans because this was my first visit but I was impressed. I was happy. I was probably the happiest I've been in my life, save the first days of our engagement and the week of our wedding. The food, the heat, and the history of the city... all of that made me feel peaceful and I beamed with happiness all day long but what I loved best were the people. Everywhere we went, we met people and spent hours talking and laughing. We were kind of like this the whole time:


Could it be this way in LA? I don't know; I don't think so. Could you go to a goth club at 2 a.m., dressed to the nines after a fancy dinner out and not only be welcomed with smiles but sit around chatting with a guy in a top hat and eyeliner and a pale girl in black wings? I don't think so. It seems like in LA, there's a constant critique going on, a questioning: do you belong here? But in New Orleans, it's almost assumed you belong by virtue of you being there.

Katrina changed the city, don't get me wrong, and there are parts of the city-- particularly the ninth ward-- that will make you weep. There is still work going on all around the city and trailers parked here and there but visiting the city isn't a pitiful experience by any means. It's possible to visit and not really be aware that something so awful happened not so long about. Go and spend your money if you want to support New Orleans; it's the best way to keep the city on its road to recovery and it's just an amazing place to be.

But this post is supposed to be about NOLA and here I am, getting a philosophical and shit. Here's some bread-- jalapeño cornbread was my favorite:

NOLA is an Emeril restaurant. I don't really watch cooking shows. I like America's Test Kitchen and I'll watch an episode of the Barefoot Contessa every once in a while. Top Chef and No Reservations are other favorites but they seem like cooking shows to me no more than watching a Dodger's game qualifies as an exercise show. The fact that this is an Emeril restaurant did pretty much nothing for me. Okay, I'll admit it. I find Emeril to be a sort of dorky phenomenon and I did overhear a "bam!" from a corner of the restaurant towards the end of our meal, but who cares? He's a great restaurateur and this was a heavenly meal. The service is as strong as the service at Commander's (quite a statement) though the diners are packed in more tightly (not a bad thing necessarily-- we had a great time getting to know the couple to one side (though not such a great time with the party of eight who'd obviously had some quality time on Bourbon Street before coming to dinner.))

Patrick ordered the chef's tasting menu, and his meal started with this lovely, classic salad with caviar, salmon and creme fraiche topped blinis:

I had the arugula salad with parmesan and shaved bresola. I told myself that I wouldn't eat the entire thing. After all, we had three more courses coming after this, but I really could not help myself:

Next, Patrick had mango enchiladas stuffed with crawfish:

And I had the baked gulf oysters and crabmeat with garlic and butter and breadcrumbs. Both were so, so good. I was asked if I wanted some bread to sop up the sauce that remained in each clever little cup once the meat was gone. Yes, I did, but I also wanted to live to see the next day and feared those few additional fatty bites would push me from the world of "food coma" to "real coma". I passed.

Next came Patrick's flat-iron steak:

And here is my hickory-roasted duck. Ah, such heaven:

I needed to visit the little girls' and was taken there by the arm by one of the male waitstaff, an odd little custom that I was surprised I enjoyed. When I came back, dessert was waiting. We lingered over pecan pie, totally stupefied by all we'd just consumed.

It was our most expensive meal of the trip but absolutely worth it (by LA standards, it was a bargain.) Patrick says that the meal was awesome, though he preferred his meal at Commander's, which he said was "like preferring a Mercedes over a BMW." When you visit the city, go to both and expect to take a long walk after each meal.

Eating Out: Cochon

If you've been reading this blog for any length of time or know Patrick and me, you know that we have a healthy (unhealthy?) appreciation for all things pig. There are few foods that cannot be made magical by being married with some bacon. So when we heard there was a new restaurant in New Orleans that shared our obsession, we had to go.

Cochon is a bustling little place in a not-great part of town. Of all the places we visited, this reminded me of LA most. Not that this is a bad thing, but there was a certain element of seen-and-be-seen about it. But who wouldn't want to be seen at the restaurant that won the Crazy Bastard Special Achievement Award at the Golden Clog Awards? Or was named one of the New Your Times ten most significant new restaurants? And did I mention they constructed a special microwave that can nuke an entire pig?

I try and keep discrete notes throughout a meal but my notes from Cochon consist of one line: MOONSHINE = GOOD. Yep, Cochon stocks moonshine. Thank goodness I can't get Catdaddy on the West Coast. I expected a harsh mouthful of something like Everclear but found it unbelievably delicious, dangerously so, just slightly sweet and floral, an excellent accompaniment to my meal. Frankly, I can't think of any food a small sip of Catdaddy wouldn't improve.

The service at Cochon is hurried but not unfriendly. We started out with the wood-fired oyster roast. We ate a LOT of oysters one our trip but none were as good as these. I don't usually like cooked oysters but these were spicy, smoky, creamy and not one bit rubbery:

Can you guess what this next dish is? No? Pigs ear. I know, you're thinking this can't possibly be good but it is. I've been calling it the calamari of the pig. It's a shame that some might pass this up. It was crunchy, tender, the mild flesh paired nicely with a rough mustard sauce:

Next, came fried alligator with a chili garlic aioli. The exterior was perfect, the sauce was unbelievable but the chunks of alligator were just too damn big. Alligator is a virtually fat-free meat (and, no, it does not taste like chicken.) and these big chunks didn't achieve the right balance of sauce/fried exterior/meaty interior. Still, I'd be tempted to order it again, just to have the sauce:

Sorry this next picture is so terrible. Blame it on the moonshine. These were Patrick's pork ribs with watermelon relish and they were falling-of-the-bone tender but not mushy, sweet but not cloying, absolutely perfect:

Smothered greens. Tart and savory, very good:

Here's my soft-shelled crab, which I am kicking myself for today. Don't get me wrong, it was delicious. They know how to fry things here and I always get a kick out of having the whole of something but this was very close in style to the fried alligator and why didn't I order the cochon? I blame moonshine:

A revelatory part of the dish was the bacon mixed in with the greens underneath. Oh, such bacon! And we eat a lot of bacon round these parts. They make their own and I pray that the next time we go to Cochon (and we'll be back, there's no doubt about that) we'll be able to order a plate of bacon as a start to the meal. Heck, they could dredge it in a little flour and brown sugar and serve it as dessert.

Eating Out: Commander's Palace

My husband told me there was no other place on earth like Commander's Palace, that it's the best restaurant on the face of the earth. Patrick is a story teller, a man of passion and emphasis, a man who loves New Orleans so much, he bleeds purple and gold and green when he cuts himself shaving (it's quite revolting.) So I didn't know what was waiting for me or if I'd agree.

Here are some nummy little slices of garlic bread while I go on and on:

What I knew was the menu looked promising, their awards impressive, but the hurricane had been hard on them. Not only had their building suffered extensive damage, losing a reported 18,000 bottles of wine, but much of their staff was lost too. Part of what makes Commander's so remarkable (and it is remarkable, it is amazing, there is no other place on earth like Commander's) is the staff.

I love good food (sort of a stupid statement, I know) and I love good restaurants but I am not a big lover of fancy. It's not that I mind having a seat pulled out for me (I love it, in fact) or a visit from the sommelier but there are certain places where I feel like... well, you know the feeling, don't you? Like you're barely tolerated, like the waiter may take your order in the back and say, "Go ahead and drop this one on the floor. They won't know the difference."

Here's some of the insanely delicious shrimp and tasso while I flap my gums:

The service at Commander's is impeccable, there is no doubt about that, but it isn't stiff or snooty or uncomfortable. Instead, it's like going to dinner at the house of friends who just want you to relax and be happy while they feed you all their choicest bits. Like these beignets topped with foie gras and served with a warm espresso sauce:

Great food makes your shut your eyes. All you need is the mouthful and the scent. And when you open your eyes, there's someone smiling at you, nodding, saying, "It's so good, isn't it?" Oh, yes, yes, it's good. It feels like a special sort of cruelty to look at these pictures now and not be able to have just one more bite.

Am I being too over the top? I can't help it. Turtle soup with sherry, anyone?

Patrick had the turtle soup (so good!) and I ordered the gumbo. Sorry, gumbo, you were out of step with the glory of the rest of this meal. Just a little too salty:

After soup, came my red fish:

...and Patrick's gulf fish:

We could have been told that we were both fired from our jobs and our apartment was on fire and we still wouldn't have been able to stop grinning. We were stuffed but dessert was on its way. We drank coffee and chicory and chatted with the staff.

Patrick had the bread pudding soufflé, something he'd been talking about since we booked our plane tickets:

And I had the strawberry shortcake made with Ponchatoula strawberries, which are at the height of their season right now:

After dinner, we were invited to tour the restaurant and kitchen. I was able to thank the pastry chef in person for the flaky, salty-sweet biscuits that sandwiched sweet berries and cream. He assured me with a sly grin that I'd make them like that in my sleep after making a few thousand batches. I hope so; I need that taste again.

Patrick tells me Commander's isn't the same since the hurricane-- it's even better.

Eating Out: Ai

There are two kinds of sushi joints worth going to in LA-- there are the fancy-schmancy places where the service is seemless, each bite is revelatory, and your bill is equivalent to a car payment. Then there are the weekday sushi joints where the service is always friendly but often rushed or forgetful, the food is fresh and fairly authentic, and prices more reasonable-- two can eat for $40. Ai in South Pasadena is the second type of place.

You can have a beer or a glass of whiskey while you wait for a table, which might be a long wait on a busy night (bring cash if this sounds good to you-- you have to pay cash for the drinks while you wait and can't put them on your tab but can use a credit/debit card otherwise.) There is usually a yellow legal pad that people write their names on and tables are given out accordingly.

Once you're seated, try and order some hot tea or a beer right away. Sometimes, you'll sit for a while, waiting for your order to be taken. I like the chirachi (above) and some of their crunchy and light tempura or the nabeyake udon, My husband gets the sashimi deluxe and we walk out with full, happy bellies. It's nice to have "event" sushi but I love having a place where we can go and enjoy sushi as an ordinary meal.

Eating Out: The Red Lion

On our first date, my husband took me here for an after-dinner beer, people-watching and some covert knee-touching. My husband speaks German fluently and has traveled there several times (if you ever meet him, be sure to ask him about the Schnapps factory.) Visiting the Red Lion in Silverlake reminds him of the meals he had in taverns there.

It's loud and it's smoky and the service is sometimes slow (though never rude) but the point of going to the Red Lion is not to run in and run out, stuffing spatzel in your mouth and then flying out the door. It's the type of place to visit on a warm Saturday afternoon. Sit upstairs in the beer garden and enjoy some people watching. My husband orders the sauerbraten (top) and I get the Red Lion schnitzel (bottom). It's delicious, junky bar food but no matter what you do, don't order this.

My Man Got Me Fosselman's

My husband got a spark in his eye last night after dinner. He dashed out of the house with a promise of dessert to come.

Who would turn down homemade espresso and and ice cream sandwich from Fosselman's? Only a fool, I assure you.

Their ice cream is creamy, clean-tasting and fresh. Their ice creams have lovely flavors (my husband got a variety pack-- this is a cookies-and-cream one, he had a chocolate one) but they don't overpower the taste of the real cream and real sugar. No preservatives or other nasty stuff here. The cookies that sandwich the ice cream are crunchy and crumbly. Thank goodness my husband doesn't get this idea very often or we'd both be quite rolly-polly.

They also sell salt-water taffy in dozens of flavors. Forget diamonds and pearls-- bring me candy!

Eating Out: Smitty's Grill

Smitty's Grill is one of those restaurants that we would love to love. It's close by, there's a good bar and the menu is delightful. It's also owned and operated by the same group that is responsible for the Parkway Grill and Arroyo Chop House, fancy-schmancy Pasadena restaurants.

So why don't we love Smitty's? In a word-- waiting.

Here I am, waiting in Smitty's lovely outdoor back eating area. It's warm in winter, thanks to heat lamps and a roaring fire. What am I waiting for? I don't know at this point. My husband took lots of pictures of us waiting. We had a lot of time for it.

BlackBerry at the table? No harm, no foul when you're waiting at Smitty's. My husband was working to amuse us both a distract us from the hungries...

We ordered drinks and the Crunchy Ahi Tuna with Sesame-Chile Vinaigrette as soon as we could get the waitress to notice us. Twenty minutes later, it arrived:

It's a nice little snack. The ahi was amazing-- buttery and tender and cold in the center while the wrapper was warm and crunchy, one of my favorite combos. The dipping sauce had a hunt of peanut butter to it. However, it had been placed on the plate with very little care. It looks like a small serving but it was actually perfect for two people to share. Too bad the chunks hadn't been sliced into nice, even, bite-sized pieces and plated nicely. Also, limes? No.

My husband and I sat waiting for the waitress for a long time after that. So long, in fact, that we ended up slowly consuming dipping sauce that the ahi came with. Don't judge! We were desperate.

Finally, our waitress came to take our order. My husband ordered the Large-Cut of Prime Rib and I ordered the Grilled Buffalo Rib-Eye with a Port-Wine Cranberry Reduction. When asked how I wanted it cooked, I asked, "When I say medium-rare, is that a real, honest-to-goodness medium-rare?" The waitress pumped her head and told me not to worry. I then said, "Is it possible at all for us to get some cheese bread right away? I think I'm going to chew my foot off."

Behold, Cheese Bread, the best thing I've ever had at Smitty's:

It's a plate full of crusty bread that's been buttered, alfredo-ed, Gorgonzola-ed and then broiled. Heavenly. Best moment of the evening. We ate our bread, licked our fingers and our spirits lifted. Before too long, our dinner came out.

My husband was a big winner with this:

But if there's going to be a winner...

I've always had good slabs of meat from Smitty's (I should have gone with my gut and gotten the short ribs), so I was pretty disappointed. This steak was rare, rare, rare. I took other, better pictures of it but they've too graphic to upload. It was bloody as uncooked liver. Tasty, but I couldn't eat too much of it. Well, I couldn't eat any of it to start with because we had no steak knives. Our waitress was impossible to flag down, we had to get the help of a busboy.

I'd chalk this up to just a bad night of service but every meal we've ever had there is full of missteps and lack of careful (or even mindful) service.

Why do we go back? I think we get Smitty's amnesia and forget about the awful service, dreaming only of their macaroni and cheese with ham or the prime rib or the double-cut rack or lamb... and now the cheese bread.

Eating Out: Bistro de la Gare

My husband and I live within walking distance of some amazing eateries. This morning, we walked to our breakfast at Bistro de la Gare. This place is generally bustling at dinner time but calm in the morning, with breakfast served only on the weekends (but until 2:30 in the afternoon!)

We had coffee and French bread with unsalted butter to start (what a happy way to start a Sunday, yes?) I had a three-egg omelette with swiss cheese, bacon, and spinach. Delicious and way too much for me to finish in one go. My husband had his favorite breakfast food on earth, Eggs Benedict, and said it was one of the best he's had (and he's had a LOT.) Both came with a side of their onion potatoes, which are more condiment than side-dish in my mind-- a heaping pile of beautifully caramelized onions with finely diced potatoes soaking up all that flavor-- and fresh fruit. Yum.