Ritz Bites

Farewell to Florent...

My professional training and experience is entirely based on the fact that urban neighborhoods change. I accept and celebrate how things come, things go. Such are the endlessly fascinating and complicated cycles of city life.

Still, I'm really sad that Florent is no more.

Back in May, we received the best treatment I've ever had with kids in tow, anywhere. Crayons and coloring pages were brought to us, drinks were served in plastic cups (a moment of the practical trumping the environmental), frequent attention was paid to make sure we had all we needed.

The food satisfied young and old(er) alike. And relatively speaking, James was shockingly well-behaved; he stayed at the table the entire meal, which these days is unheard of. He somehow knew to not totally ruin the meal. My friend Rosanna hung in with us like a champ.

Did Florent Morellet envision his namesake all-hours restaurant as becoming that dreaded of all phrases, "kid friendly"? Of course not, but he stuck to restaurateursim as its best -- responding to the needs of his customers, whether outrageous drag queens or rowdy small kids. Florent evolved alongside the neighborhood it helped define, for better or for worse.

Just like other things associated with Florent, its loss will be felt for some time, even if physically the place will remain.

Take the A train to ... Mamajuana Cafe

Though the charms of way upper Manhattan are many, there are some drawbacks. My sister can't help but rant with raging jealousy of how even in some unlikely corner of Brooklyn you can find a stellar bakery and cool bar.
We all love Inwood, with the great parks, lively residential vibe, Revolutionary War era historic sites and many mofongo houses, but it has a long way to go in the eating department.

Some fine things in one's backyard, however, can go unnoticed. So good thing we finally took a walk down to Mamajuana Cafe on Dyckman.

The scene is jumping on a Wednesday night. Watching the crowd and live music are the best things going here, which is an eclectic hybrid of vaguely Spanish/ Caribbean rustic sensibilities meets a northern Manhattan nightspot. Some design details are sort of puzzling, but they're definitely not off-the-rack Home Depot type materials. Despite the big city location (granted not on the Sex and the City tour route), Mamajuana feels welcoming as a small village watering hole.

Garlic fries, ceviche, and octopus dishes aren't anything to write home about. (Note to the kitchen: it's not very difficult to make fries with fresh potatoes.) It's best thought of as tapas to absorb the good booze offerings. A mojito with tamarind puree rounds out the tartness to make a robust cocktail. And they don't skimp on the rum either -- meaning the namesake drink will be for the next visit.

Mamajuana Cafe
247 Dyckman Street
New York, NY 10034
212.304.0140

Best working lunch for one: Akasha

With time to kill on the Westside and a pile of projects to review, I needed a place to plant myself. Turned out to be the perfect conditions for a late lunch at Culver City newcomer Akasha. One of the wide squishy leather bar stools was mine for a couple of hours, along with the expansive crushed limestone bar counter. (The surface is wide and deep enough to be functional in any design studio.)

I ordered wine first, food second. (Should be the other way around especially at lunch, right?) The extremely dark fruit-heavy Prisoner wine doesn’t play nice with Akasha’s many light veggie organic dishes. So what to do? Steak salad, natch. The dressing had the right bite, and the cheese and red onions gave the salad enough kick to stand up to the wine. Which was very necessary, since the steak itself, though tender, was quite under-seasoned, and the multigrain toast points were a total snore.

Chocolate hemp gelato with caramelized bananas epitomizes Akasha's reigning eco-chicness. The hemp factor, while interesting, just  winds up diluting the chocolate flavor, but the bananas are revelatory – layers of clean crisp sugar skin coddle sweet smooth banana within. It's the raw and the cooked, with the best of each. The cookies taste oddly eggy, though.

Extremely convivial service, a lofty green agenda, sophisticated design sense, fresh fruit cocktails (L.A. has enough places doing this to have far exceeded the three-is-a-trend axiom), and an ideally eclectic iPod mix is something I’d love to stumble upon every day. Music sounds amazing in this space, giving me that "I gotta buy / go home and listen to this" feeling I get in record stores.

I have to admit, Akasha’s soaring ceiling and mixed decorative textures give me a touch of neighborhood restaurant envy, especially given the proximity to its neighbors. The state of affairs at Sunset and Vine is comparatively sad, indeed. Again, the hungry public is rewarded for Culver City's smart  planning and redevelopment efforts.

Akasha
9543 Culver Blvd.
Culver City 90232
310.845.1700

Belated birthday post: It's Fraîche (so fresh)

I'm probably the last food blogger in L.A. to go to Fraîche. Finally we went for H's birthday, with high hopes of this much touted Culver City star. Downtown CC no longer looks all dressed up with nowhere to go. Instead, the food/drink/art loving masses come on their own, and spill out onto the sidewalks in front Fraîche and the like.

Frank Bruni's praise for the monkfish danced in my brain during the drive over. I often bitch about not seeing it on enough menus in L.A., and I wanted to taste those tender, meaty nuggets. The dish did not disappoint, and was a great reminder that monkfish doesn't have to come with bacon or a smoky meat to satisfy. The swoosh of silky potatoes underneath was enough extra buttery heft for my taste.

Sweetish dressing on the mushroom salad, however, was an odd choice and detracted from earthy mushroomy flavor. A huge kurobuta pork chop needed more seasoning. At least the platter of Kumamoto oysters was perfect.

The wine list offers plenty to chose from without breaking the bank. Our 2001 Saint-Joseph Rochecourbe by Domaine Alain Paret for $58 was a great buy, versatile enough for our different choices. (The list of typical sherries and ports is unexciting.)

This isn't the place, however, to skimp on the final course. I insisted on hogging the lemon meringue tart to myself, and nibbled on explosively tasty ricotta fritters dotted with sweet tiny early season strawberries.

The volume was loud enough that I didn't even notice the background soundtrack. Even though I'm a little bummed to have missed out on a good mix, this is a good thing. They don't pump up the volume to compete with the already considerable din of lively chatter.

Now the room -- non-kitschy use of flagstone and warm materials, crowded tables, open kitchen. I like it. But the corridor to the bathrooms feels like an entirely different restaurant. Faux-finish walls with bad oil paintings and French themed posters are more typical of cheesy bistros than a Westside restaurant with a developed food and design palate. Confusing.

Culver Citizens are lucky to have Fraîche in the mix. Plus they have fresh fruit cocktails! But if it's oysters, juicy booze, and conversation I crave, I'm grateful that the Hungry Cat is our local spot.

(Which, BTW, totally got robbed by being left off of L.A. Magazine's top 75 list while Fraîche cracked the top 20. Someone was SERIOUSLY out to lunch there -- and not in a good way.)

Fraîche Restaurant
9411 Culver Blvd
Culver City, CA 90232

310.839.6800

Quick Bites: Comme Ça, Oinkster and Seven Grand

For afternoons when it takes me forever to get out of the house and we miss lunch at most restaurants, Comme Ça comes in handy. Daylight is kind to the space. White vinyl tufted booths and high contrast decor elements demonstrate the waning yet persistent influences of the Hollywood Regency revival trend. There is not a single remaining trace of Noura, the Middle Eastern place we'd go for yogurt Push-Up pops almost every day after elementary school.

Very limited offerings at 3:30 meant just sandwiches and salads were available, plus amazingly smooth Malpeque oysters served with a perfect tangy mignonette sauce. I would've liked the $12 frisée aux lardons much, much more if all the bacon pieces were crispy. Instead I wound up with a pile of mushy pig fat. Who wants to eat that? But like everyone says, this is a restaurant L.A. has needed for a LONG time, so I'll inevitably give it another shot.

For less than half of what we spent on a modest lunch/snack at Comme Ça, we stuffed ourselves with meat sandwiches, salads, and fries at Oinkster in Eagle Rock. An apples and oranges comparison, but let's say Oinkster is far better suited to an early Sunday dinner for two families with young kids. James kept screaming for more aioli -- so much so that the other patrons were glad when we left. I didn't know that would be so popular with the tot set.

And last but not least: After the research I did about the history and previous tenants of 515 West 7th Street,  it was exciting to finally see the quirky new inhabit the old at the Seven Grand Bar.

Friends at the Bar: Rustic Canyon

The reasons to haul out to Rustic Canyon on Wilshire and 12th Street are plenty: this chic yet cozy restaurant is named for the ONLY Westside neighborhood I'd move to, our friend Jon is the mixologist, and it's owned by a fellow Crossrodian.  We took our chances driving across town on a Thursday night to nab one of the highly sought after bar stools, but it was worth the risk.   

Sitting with friends and Jon as he kept the bar going and we sampled Rustic Canyon's food and drink =  bonus.   

I took my time with the Indochine, a sweet prosecco-based drink with a light tang of ginger and lemongrass, since I allowed myself just one libation (o.k., plus a bunch of tiny sips).  In my previous life I would've sucked it down and made my way through many of the other drinkies, none of which you can go wrong with -- as long as effervescent white wines agree with you. 

Favorite dishes included the bowl of skinny crispy fries, wild snapper ceviche, intense mussels, and fried green tomatoes with burrata, which is quite substantial and fatty but not greasy. 

After the savory foods were gone, the bar was crowded with desserts -- Gaviota strawberry shortcake, peach cobbler, and the marshmallow-blanketed rocky road bread pudding.  All very large portions (almost too large, if there is such a thing)  and made with the bestest, freshest ingredients.

No more being at a loss about where to eat in Santa Monica.  Now, if only a similar place called Bronson Canyon would open on Franklin Avenue...

Rustic Canyon
1119 Wilshire Blvd.
Santa Monica, CA 90401
310.393.7050

Duck all'around: Lu Din Gee

Down the mission route-to-streetcar suburb-turned-autopia-strips that comprise San Gabriel, past the endless parade of the hugest big-box retail this side of Wal-Mart lies Lu Din Gee.  Aram made special arrangements for us to join him there in honor of his return to good health. 

The featured dish and strip mall setting are about all it shares in common with another palace of roasted Peking duck (OK, Beijing to be current) I visited across the country last year.  No older men in red polyester waiter jackets are in sight.  Instead it's twentysomethings with spiked hair and black-on-black outfits taking care of the customers, who are seated in the modestly sized room that's awash in goldenrod and furnished with slick lacquer pieces.  The bathroom sink isn't just a basin; it's practically a mini water feature, complete with a sluice and plants.

The birds arrive at the table sliced and plated into tidy mounds surrounded by what's for me the Main Event -- glossy sheets of crisp, sweet and faintly smoky skin.  The lazy Susan goes round and around so that we can all get access to the essential components: duck, wispy scallions, and thick fermented bean sauce. 

And that's only part of the deal.  Nothing goes to waste and Lu Din Gee.  I also eat what feels like mounds of bean sprouts sauteed with soft bits of the meat extras, and I slurp down spoonfuls of the milky soup, the rich and soft flavor of which comes from the bones.  Then there's the hearty formidable fried fish balls with their complex layers and many textures in each bite.

I'm glad I proposed that we cruise down Las Tunas and Main Street to grab some cones at Fosselman's.  More evidence that celebrating being well doesn't necessarily require healthy food.

Lu Din Gee Restaurant
1039 E. Valley Blvd.
San Gabriel 91776
626.288.0588

Dining by the Park: Chichen Itza

A few decades ago, the Hotel Chancellor had The Cove, the Ambassador had the Cocoanut Grove, the Sheraton Town House housed the Zebra Room.  Such were the swanky restaurants and nightspots that populated the many apartment/hotel buildings in Wilshire Center. 

It's 2007, and the delightful Chichen Itza occupies a storefront of the beautiful Asbury Apartments on 6th Street and Park View.  (To be fair and accurate, The Prince bar has always been in The Windsor.)

I spent several months researching and developing a context for mid-rise multifamily residential buildings in the area, which has obviously changed in just about every conceivable way.  And the changes haven't stopped.  In the time since I did this work, the Ambassador was demolished, for chrissake.  And the neighborhood around MacArthur Park shows signs of getting safer and going more upscale-ish. 

Chichen Itza isn't simply a nice restaurant plonked down in the middle of Funkytown, nor owned by people who turn a blind eye to their surroundings.  Instead it reflects all of these subtle trends, and like some of its neighbors, is more respectfully tied to the community. 

All kinds of folks can be seen in the formal outpost of the wonderful Yucatan style restaurant in Mercado la Paloma.  It's definitely a step up from the stand where I ate regularly when I took a class in grad school that met weekly at the Mercado.

And the kitchen delivers generous portions of richly nuanced Yucatan food.  (Read a certain Pulitzer Prize winning critic's review here.)  We sampled the pollo pibil, cochininta pibil, and poc chuc.  I would order any of these dishes again in a heartbeat, but skip the $9.50 glasses of unexciting wine.  My enormous platter of falling-off-the-bone tangy chicken with soft marinated red onions and thinly sliced fried plantains, plus rice and beans, seemed too much to eat in one sitting. 

Flash forward half an hour and I was facing an empty plate as I stared out the window towards the majestic Park Plaza Hotel. 

Chichen Itza
2501 West 6th Street
Los Angeles 90057
213.380.0051

Image from LAPL Photo Collection

Noshi Sushi Noshing

Over ten years.  That's how long I've been meaning to go to Noshi Sushi on Beverly.  Pathetic.

Let's face it: Noshi isn't the most welcoming of places from the outside.  With its blocked out window openings and monochromatic brown exterior, the restaurant looks like a bunker.  Customers are 100% reliant on the Open/Closed sign, since the other ways of sussing out if a business is open are completely moot.  You can't see if the lights are on, or if there are people enjoying well-priced sushi inside. 

Within an hour and for a mere twenty-odd bucks per person, we'd stuffed ourselves with yellowtail, spicy yellowtail, yellowtail belly, red snapper, snow crab hand rolls, albacore sushi, and freshly sliced cucumber salad.   

I'm so glad our friend Andy kept pushing us to meet him for a Noshi lunch, also because I love this older generation of Japanese eateries.  I worry that the cultural synthesis evident in many of the Japanese restaurants I grew up eating in around L.A. -- those American coffee shops given a once-over with Japanese surface treatments -- will gradually disappear. 

At least Noshi's reputation and prices should keep it going strong (and unchanged) for many years to come.

Noshi Sushi
4430 Beverly Blvd.
Los Angeles 90004
323.469.3458

If you can't stand heat in the kitchen, no problem: Raw Food

The whole raw foods trend doesn't interest me much.  Given that I'm the type to spend six hours cooking a bolognese ragú and a long-simmered puree of carrot and celery root soup, I'm not the target audience.

But I love veggies and I'm willing to try just about anything.  Plus I like some versions of healthy hippie foods, if we're talking like, M Cafe de Chaya.  So I'm surprised to say Euphoria Loves RAWvolution -- name aside -- is pretty good.  It's nice to know there's a place for people who can't stand heat but don't want to get out of the kitchen.   

Kale salad, seaweed, and runny "egg" salad does not a daily meal make.  Yet as an occasional lunch it's filling and obviously healthy.  I'd return to the exotic land of Main Street Santa Monica, which feels a world away from Hollywood, for the pungent and freshly blended soy chai.  Silky coconut pudding is also quite tasty.  Stylistically (brightly colored walls, Indian fabric cushions, white folks with dreadlocks), the space and vibe help preview our visit to Ithaca in May.

Earlier in the day I'd gone buck wild at the Santa Monica Farmers' Market.  The bounty is just so ... overwhelming.  I managed to drop a lot of cash (literally -- I think I lost a Andy Jackson along the way) on more greens than I'll ever have time to prepare, and a can of walnut oil. 

And in keeping with the theme of lunch, I snacked on some raw walnuts and shelled peas as the afternoon wore on.  But when dinner time came along, those peas were blanched and mixed with a slab of butter, and the tender baby spring onions spent a lot of time in hot olive oil and were joined by Flora Bella Farms rapini.  After about 45 minutes, the slow-cooked onion-rapini duo met its good friend, boiled spaghetti.  I still like heat in my kitchen.