Unrelated Content

i’m not dead, just in case you were wondering. however, i’ve been feeling a bit under the weather, which does detract very much so from the ole appetite, much to my dismay (that is, in essence, the snake eating its tail). anyway, i’ve been subsisting on either canned soups or chinese food or osso buco as of late, so you tell me what you want to read about. that’s right, i want YOU, loyal readers, to tell me what you want.

do you care that i had a leisurely (read: terrible service) lunch with annie b earlier today at lodge? that i can feel my intestines bubbling over from what is no doubt e coli poisoning? why do we do such things to ourselves? we are masochists. or, we are lazy and it’s a block away. take your pick.

recently i ordered from chinese musician, some restaurant in greenpoint that allegedly has “awesome” chinese food. well, it wasn’t very exciting at all. you know why i am qualified to say such things? because i am chinese, you assholes!  then i decided to deter yet again from my usual route of all things kam sing, and went with pac sun, which was mediocre at best. fuck this; the road most traveled is usually that because it’s the best. kind of like why cliches are true, you know that kind of jibber jabber.

anyway, i’m going to bake some pumpkin pies with graham cracker crusts this new year’s eve and serve it all up with a side of schlagg, the german version of whipped cream that’s so much richer than that cool-whip shit. germans sure know how to beat their dairy into submission!  and on the 5th, we’re going to del posto, so hold your breath because i’m sure this will be fucking bang on. if not, well, then i guess it’s off to dressler, because i still have yet to go.

are you still reading? are you eating anything good? say something!

onions

am i the only person on the planet who finds this bulb the most odious possible creation of mother nature? sure, it’s tolerable when cooked into things like chili, french onion soup (though i suspect gruyere could salvage anything) and new england clam chowder (and most soups in general, i reckon), but there is no reason for this horrendous growth to exist. sure, you can batter and deep fry it and serve it up with fair results, but truth be told, you could batter and deep fry a shoe and it’d be delicious.

fuck you, onions.

los angeles: not only the home to america’s hell’s kitchen, skid row and the fabled in-n-out franchise, but some fantastic restaurants. granted, when i usually go, i’m with my friends who enjoy the flavor country that is claimjumper and red robin, but this time, i stayed with someone who enjoys finer dining and actually once made a resolution to explore the city and its culinary offerings. well, halle-fucking-lujah!

friday evening we ventured into BLD, an eatery that specializes in breakfast, lunch, and dinner. well, they need to add an “S” to their moniker, as they also do a fantastic supper (let’s not quibble over the difference between supper and dinner, OK?). the service was brilliant – our server suggested four heavenly cheeses, one of which she claimed to have dreamed about the night prior. well, it was a fantasy, slathered on fine quality bread. i broke my vegetarian streak and went with a pork sausage and fennel infused fresh pasta that was earthy, well seasoned and perfectly autumnal. dessert was an overly sweet but delectable gingerbread pudding topped with ice cream and toasted pumpkin seeds. we drifted away in a cloud of happiness.

saturday we met up with friends for lunch at a local santa monica restaurant, frito misto, that is a favorite amongst vegetarians. heavenly pillows were fried puffs of ricotta stuffed ravioli, and i ordered a very garlicky, pesto dish of artichokes, sundried tomatoes and mushrooms tossed with lemon pepper linguine. oh, it was filling, but left me perfumed like a head of garlic. perhaps not the most sensual perfume.

sunday afternoon, we ventured out to la brea not to see the tar pits, but to check out luna park, a quiet, dark and inviting space that served up a bubbling goat cheese fondue, accompanied by sliced green apples and grilled bread. JP had vegetarian gravy and biscuits, and i had a lovely spinach and carmelized mushroom omelette with a side of roasted potatoes that were crisp and well-seasoned. and i have finally learned that the point of brunch is to be lazy and eat a savory meal accompanied by a side of fruit salad. oh, now it all makes sense!

for an early birthday dinner for my host, i took him to ayara, aka “beef waterfall,” an unassuming thai restaurant that serves up a perfectly clean-flavored and spicy jade curry. “the two best dishes,” JP observed, “are this and the pad se ew,” which i’d ordered. the broad flat noodles pan seared with tofu and chinese broccoli (sans egg, a suggestion by JP) were in fact ideal.

ah, los angeles, you have more to offer than just fresh, never frozen, fast food burgers and weinerschnitzel shacks.

right now i am in good ole los angeles, my home away from home. normally i would be ecstatic, gnawing on a 4×4 animal & protein style sans onions from in-n-out but this whole vegetarianism thing has really been cramping my style. i mean, vegans at the airport have the option of water, air and crappy tasting protein bars made of sawdust and the dew from a weird asian berry. whee, what fucking fun.

all that changed when i finally de-planed and wound up at wolfgang puck’s express on the promenade in santa monica where i had…a salad. fresh spinach, candied walnuts and radicchio. oh, and some green apple slices. exciting. not really. remember when homer simpson sang to lisa, “you don’t win friends with salad?” well, he was right.

boring, i know. then i was escorted to a party at some lounge on wilshire hosted by microsoft where horrible smelling fishy things were served up on square plates, and a “phizztini” was offered in a plastic glass that emitted different colored wave patterns. ugh. we were smart to just drink water, and save our appetite for fred62.

located somewhere between hollywood and silverlake (hi, i don’t drive), this little grimy dive supplied us with a fresh eyeful of local hipsters (did i just fucking write that? i’m jetlagged) and a much needed injection of flavor. yeah i am really tired. JP suggested we get the deep fried macaroni & cheese balls. well shit. how could i say no? crunchy, creamy, cheesey, just a hint of jalapeno – this was perfection in a mouthful.

i’m not going to blather on about what i had for my entree because it was covered entirely with cilantro, rendering it inedible, but i did salvage tofu from it. oh and my hash browns were more like hash tans, but whatever, can you really fuck up a fried potato? (actually, yes, but let’s not get into that)

now i am going to take a nap because i have no idea what time it is.
this entry stinks.
i blame it on lack of protein.

one of my favorite indian restaurants on curry row (aka 6th street between 1st and 2nd avenues in the east village) is taj mahal, an unassuming storefront surrounded by other indian eateries. what makes this place so great? well, for starters, it’s cheap. many years ago, i took my sister there for dinner, and a two course meal, including mango lassis for each of us, came to 15$ total (not including tip). now that is a fantastic deal.

granted, i’ve been avoiding indian food ever since the time i overdosed on curry and went to the gym the next day and found myself sweating out cumin while on the elliptical trainer. sniffing, i thought, “it smells like dinner…oh god, that’s me!” i’ve never been one to want to smell like food, with the exception of vanilla or mango.

but the fiery burn of curry lures me in every time, and wednesday night was no exception. i met my dinner companion, an unabashed vegan, and we settled in to a lovely dinner of vegetable samosas and ghee-free curries. i went with my “usual,” the aloo gobi matar, potatoes, peas and caulifower. he had some kind of chickpea and spinach dish that i didn’t bother trying since i knew that i’d be flatulent enough after this meal.

service was attentive, the food was edible, tasty and fresh, and the price? 19$ for the both of us before tip. i felt generous saying, “i’ll get this” but really, it was no big deal. we left sated, bloated and burping up cardamom before heading home on the subway.

how do you like your meat cooked? rare? medium rare? medium? medium well? well? incinerated?

obviously this doesn’t pertain to chicken or pork since we don’t want to risk salmonella poisoning but i’m referring to duck, beef, veal, lamb and any other delicious bloody brown cut of flesh that carmelizes so nicely in the pan.

last night i had a fantastic rib-eye steak at roebling tea room that was served charred on the outside, medium rare on the inside (i’d asked for it to be still mooing, but alas), stippled with delicious streaks of fat and topped with a slab of herbed butter.

i do believe my heart is about to burst today.

visit me in the ICU!

last night, while i was literally “vegging” out on my couch, i thought it best to supplement my evening with a vegan pizza. now i know many people would beg to differ – “there can’t be a such thing as vegan pizza if there’s no cheese on that thing!” but let’s not quibble over semantics. you have dough, you have tomato sauce, you have vegetables, you have soy cheese, then it’s a fucking pizza, OK?

high recommendations came from Alice on BCO so i opted to order from vinnie’s on bedford and n.9th, renowned for their vegan friendly menu. i’d ordered a non-vegan caprese pie many months ago from there with my friend tim, and it was phenomenal. this vegan pizza (ladened with artichokes, peppers, broccoli, spinach, olives and eggplant and “follow your heart” mozzarella cheese) was fantastic. generally i’m not a crust-eater (yes, that sounds gross) and leave the ends for my companion or boyfriend to eat, but this pizza was so delicious that i couldn’t stop myself. i finished the whole darn thing.

A+, thanks, vinnie’s. i love you guys. keep delicious food coming my way.

how the heck have i been sleeping on this fantastic eatery/bar just a mere two blocks from my apartment? i walk by it nearly every day and wonder, “should i eat here?” all the reviews i’ve heard from friends were in the realm of “great food, shitty service” which i let deter me. well fuck off, was i ever wrong!

lesley and i met up and had an impromptu and absolutely delightful dinner at the bar. i loved that my chamomile tea was served in a giant beer stein, and the leaves were loose, but tightly bundled into a cheesecloth sack that floated at the top of the hot water like a body bag. we shared a meat/cheese plate that was drizzled with honey and accompanied by some unknown sweet candied substance that really enhanced the salty sting of the meat and the pistachio-tinged flavor of the cheese.

i was starving and the special of the grilled lamb tenderloin seemed like a fine foil. served with heirloom turnips and beets, deep fried chickpeas and sauteed greens, it had a peppery bite. a bit heavy on the salt but nicely seasoned, though i was left craving something sweet, which is unusual as i am not a fan of sugar.

but sugar we had by finishing with a perfect serving of pot du creme.

“how are you not 300 pounds?” lesley wondered as we destroyed the chocolate dessert with our spoons. “i’m getting there,” i replied.

if you’re looking for a romantic, dimly lit restaurant for modern american cuisine or merely a place to have a spot of tea or a draught of beer with friends, this is your place!

i think i’ve found the place to celebrate my 32nd birthday. hello roebling tea room!

on a blustery winter evening, i met up with three friends for a fantastic dinner at fada, located on driggs and n.8th in williamsburg. it lay dormant for me for many of the years that i’d resided in the area until one day, i ventured in with my then-boyfriend to discover a moderately priced french bistro serving delicious rustic fare.

tonight we started with escargot, which needed some salt, but were otherwise luscious and garlicky. the boys had soup, one french onion, the other the broccoli special of the day. they declared them “very good,” which was indicated further by their polishing off their spoons with their tongues. smartly, i’d ordered a hot and crisp order of frites, which were quickly dispatched with mayo or ketchup down our hungry mouths.

my entree was the duck cassoulet special, and it was rich, hearty and soothing on a cold night. i pierced plump chunks of sausage, forked tender morsels of duck into my face and thought, “this is the stuff that rejuvenates the heart and soul.” what could better cheer and bolster a wind-battered body than something as comforting as a classic french stew of white beans and meat? rhetorical question: nothing.

at home, i am now drifting off to bed in a haze of happy dreams, languishing in my food-induced stupor, and smiling faintly.

you may be wondering where i’ve been. mayhaps not! languishing in a food coma, i would hope, but alas, no, it has been a bleak, bleak world for yours truly as my untrustworthy friends have been flaking on me for dining plans. how atrocious! i had made reservations at les halles (park avenue outpost only) but alas, my friend was unable to meet up so i had to cancel. my stomach growled in protest, but i sated it with a bowl of soup eaten out of a can.

now taking applications for a dining companion! you must be adventurous, willing to try anything (except maybe durian or balut) and enjoy my charming conversation.  sign up here and i promise not to mock you in future reviews.  unless, of course, you eat a durian.