Ritz Bites

Not quite as pretty as the cover of Gourmet

Good Gawd, do I think that picture on the cover of Gourmet's April issue is pretty. The dish simply shown -- 
pasta with spicy anchovy, dill and breadcrumbs -- screams perfect easy weeknight dish. It might even be a contender for a place in our the regular pasta stable.

It only took me about four months filled with sincere intentions, and many rotted and discarded bunches of unused dill, but I finally got around to it last week. I don't think those months have been wasted living without this pasta.

I liked the unusual combination of flavors and textures well enough, but it won't be usurping my signature porcini pasta, spaghetti alla carbonara or bucatini all'amatriciana from their rightful places. It could also have been my fault for going very heavy on the onion-to-anchovy ratio in favor of the former, and adding shallots. Which, in general, is never a bad thing.

The recipe calls for perciatelli or bucatini. I'd use spaghetti instead, actually, because the other textures get sort of lost in the heavy tubular pasta. (Or, as Marissa would want me to say, the "tasty tubers.") Definitely reserve a hefty amount of breadcrumbs for serving, and to add throughout eating. Otherwise they all get mushy, and that's not so fun.

We got in!: Osteria Mozza

When talking about Osteria Mozza, there aren't any nasty rumors to put to rest nor much criticism at all, really.  I was ready to drink the Kool-Aid before the long anticipated restaurant finally opened, and now I've swilled and chugged.   

First off, let me state for the record that Marissa is a VERY good friend for giving us her Wednesday night reservation as a wedding anniversary present.  (She also tried to pre-arrange another gift for us there that didn't work out due to a staff snafu, but for both gestures she deserves a major thank you.)  She's been there more than anyone save for the two major restaurant critics in town, yet if I were her I'd hoard any chance to go back.

As Marissa pointed out, the well-organized menu with its four main sections (antipasti, mozzarella bar, primi and secondi, plus contorni and dessert) is like the best of Nancy meets the best of Mario.  The mozzarella bar is clearly Nancy's domain, from which she oversees the bins of latticini freschi and a dizzying number of accompaniments.  The majority of the antipasti and mozzarella menu section offerings are focused on seasonal ingredients and the whole farmers' market thing, but make no mistake -- pig trotters and testa make an appearance.   Ah, the hand of Mario becomes apparent.

Then Mario swoops in (um, make that THUDS in) with the meaty stuffed pastas, sauces, and protein-focused entrées listed on the primi and secondi pages.   

All items are under the $30 mark, which nearly feels damn well charitable in this restaurant market.  But don't worry -- there are plenty of things to spend money on.  And note that the pasta portions border on the skimpy side.

Tender octopus pieces remind me of the incredible stuff we had at Babbo a couple years ago, but I prefer like the delicate sweetness that rings through the lemony bed of celery, potatoes and chives to the pepper medley served on Waverly Place.  The affetati misti showcase Papa Armandino's handiwork, including magically melting lardo, but the gnocchi fritti side falls flat.  In the world of fried savory dough, I'd rather have sopapillas slathered with honey in New Mexico.  The delicious crusty bread works great enough.

The quasi-open faced sandwiches are the real show stoppers.  Burratta Burricotti topped with currants, pine nuts, bread crumbs and braised artichokes is definitely best eaten before the hot little number with bacon, escarole and carmelized shallots.  The only bummer is the first one is gone so fast.  There's some disagreement about the second item, and while the crisp bacon is really intense, I still love the smoky/slightly bitter combo of ingredients.

Pasta offerings stick a few classics.  No beef cheek ravioli or other complicated items here.  Or so it seems.  Ask the waiter and you'll get a ton of information about what's what, and the image of the food's simplicity evaporates.  (This is one seriously well trained and informed staff.)  For instance, the menu says "Agnolotti, burro e salvia."  All it takes it one simple question to learn the pillowy wonders are stuffed with a mixture of veal, salami, and a couple other meats, and the garganelle al ragù contains some homemade fennel sausage.  Ah, so that helps explain its incredible lingering depth.    

Of all the desserts, rosemary fritters with olive oil gelato -- a slightly savory, herb-based concoction -- beckons the loudest.   I haven't had gelato this creamy and subtle since Grom in New York; I'd gladly eat the cakes' soft crumbling texture  again for breakfast the next day.  The elegant rosemary brittle ribbon that joins the two components could have been made by a former Chihuly disciple who abandoned the glass trade to work in pastry.

My two biggest -- and essentially major only -- criticisms: 1) it's fuh-reeeezing in there, and 2) pleasant dinner music The Who doth not make.  I know Mario likes to rock out with his er, smock out.  And while the White Stripes and R.E.M. are fine (though the selection of the latter was, alas, later dull Warner Bros. material), Roger Daltrey's screaming pitch doesn't make me feel good.  So by extension the strains of "Won't Get Fooled Again" don't help people look prettier, the wall colors more complimentary, the sauces taste any richer or the charcuterie more luscious.

We'll be headed to the lively mozzarella bar counter next time.  Those deluxe sheets of burnished marble look like half of Carrara's export for the year was earmarked for Mozza's dining surfaces.  It's the best vantage point from which to watch the action taking place beneath the double height ceilings (the mezzanine level from the previous occupant was removed), dark woods, pin-spot lighting and soft glowing pendant fixtures.  Plus no one has to sit with his back to the restaurant facing the Mobil station across the street (sorry, H).

Osteria Mozza's got that fabulous busy urban restaurant buzz, and believe you me, there are no signs of it fading any time soon.

Osteria Mozza
6602 Melrose Avenue
Los Angeles, CA 90038
323.297.0100 (good luck with that!)

A little note to All'Angelo

All'Angelo continues to hum along.  Still a class act, just as it was when we ate there twice earlier this year.  The staff is so kind, the tables are set crisply and cleanly, the room is calming and comfortable, and food delicious.

And yet... the kitchen has got to mix it up a bit.  Along with the list of aforementioned consistent good things, the small menu is exactly the same.  I love veal, tender venison and potato tortelli when there's a nip in the air and heavy jackets are draped over our chairs.  Then come summertime, I need more than a couple lighter options. 

I hope the octopus carpaccio remains -- it's a great signature dish -- but I won't return for $30+ entrées when seasonality is put on the back burner.  Other than the specials, the menu doesn't reflect which ingredients are at their peak and what feels best to eat this time of year.   While it all tastes terrific, I can't enjoy that heavy, rich meal in July as I can in March.

Maybe I've naively fallen victim to the Chez Panissean gospel or misunderstand this restaurant.  Reliability and quality, after all, can be hard to find.  And while it falls under the more sophisticated category of "ristorante," All'Angelo isn't grandiose nor pretentious, which is why it's the kind of place I want to visit repeatedly.  I recommend it wholeheartedly to anyone who hasn't yet been and is looking to experience outstanding Italian food.

But it's a fine line between being consistent and redundant.  If they want to compete with and/or get some overflow traffic from a new red hot joint down the street, they might want to rethink things a bit.

Before there was Pinkberry...

Every culture's popular paper products -- notebooks and doodle pads and such -- speak volumes about its character and quirks. 

The intriguing art supply mecca Vertecchi has always been one of my favorite stores in Rome.  It was a place I visited frequently and came away with many of the shop's signature blue and green striped bags. 

Vertecchi had a large stock of curious notebooks, the covers of which depicted fruits and veggies re-imagined in unnatural colors -- and in English, of course.  These were an instant hit with us American students, and over the years I bought a lot of the books in different sizes and colors for myself and as gifts.

Given the current profusion of Pinkberries, Red Mangoes and the like imported via Asia, it appears mismatching fruits and colors has a special cache in various foreign cultures. 

So hear that, Pinkberry?  In one respect, Italy might already be primed for your arrival.  Yet doubtful that overpriced tart fluff can ever usurp their treasured national frozen dessert, so best to keep the expansion plan in check over there.   

Dat's a-spicy meat-a-ball

In honor of The Sopranos finale last night, I thought it would be fun to make some goupy, old school Italo-Americano fare.  I didn't use any sort of "official" yet cheesy source material, but instead cobbled together a couple recipes from the Silver Spoon Cookbook. 

It was my first foray into meatball making.  I had fun mixing it all up and getting my hands real dirty.  Four pounds of ground beef, one pound of spinach, a couple eggs, a bunch of grated Parmigiano, mirepoix, and many San Marzano tomatoes later, I could've fed a whole crew of guys with my batch of beef and spinach meatballs with rigatoni (get it? riga-Tony?).  Our party ate maybe half of what I put out.

A few lessons: the S.S. bechamel recipe sorta blows.  It was a reminder to always trust Marcella, even if that means losing feeling in your wrist after 45 minutes of constant whisking. 

Also making meatballs is fairly stressful, what with all the shaping and sticking to the pan and whatnot.  It's hard to keep those suckers intact.  (Tips, anyone?)  In the end a batch of Bolognese sauce would've been easier, if a little off-theme.  Between cooking and the show itself, I was a bundle of nerves.

I essentially failed in doing a Little Italy style meal and channeling my inner Artie Bucco, since the ingredients were above average, and the sauce was nice and dry (another mistake, since you want the wet gravy to coat the meat), and our garlic bread was hardly in Lawry's seasoned garlic salt territory.

In the end, it was a good first try for a big l'ultima volta media event.

Follow-up: Back to All'Angelo

Our second meal at All'Angelo didn't disappoint.  It turned out to be the perfect venue for a 9:30 birthday dinner on a Monday night -- not easy to find in this early bird town. 

Lots of prosciutto, speck and sopresatta, cavatapi with osso buco, that incredible octopus carpaccio, cauliflower timbale (a more elegant version of the Faith Willinger sformato I cook), tortelli with potatoes and wild mushrooms (the exception to my no pasta and potatoes rule), veal medallions with treviso, and beautiful whole roasted sea bream.  The removed cheeks were a special touch.  I love the quiet spectacle of watching a fish getting expertly filleted.   

I was so stuffed I could hardly move by 11:00, and the baby was passed out on me.  (Not an eating schedule an American dietitian would recommend, or pediatrician, for that matter.)  And then an extra veal appeared on the table as a bonus.  Mmm, lunch. 

Oh, we'll be back: All'Angelo

All'Angelo is the Italian restaurant I've been waiting and hoping for.  No need to trek out to Brentwood's budding Little Italy, deal with Beverly Hills Eurotrash, or sit elbow-to-elbow and strain to hear each other over the din at Angelini (though a weekend night dinner at All'Angelo is a better judge of that).  A quick shot through Hollywood and we're there.  And once in the warm, comfortable and audibly tolerable room that's swathed in mild ecru and smooth wood finishes, we eat amazing food.  Traditional yet creative, new but not overly radical, finessed but not fussy, just entirely and utterly delicious.  (These horribly dark pictures don't do anything justice, but I hate flash photography with food.)

There's not an off note in the meal.  I start with the lovely octopus carpaccio with roasted baby tomatoes and a pile of microgreens, which looks like a joint venture between a skilled mosaic artisan and a chef, and we share the perfect pyramids that make up the venison and pumpkin tortelli agnolotti special.  The wild mushrooms that surround the tortelli in a robust sauce are generously portioned.  Shit, this meal is on.

My monkfish main is my least favorite of the bunch, but that's because the veal and venison are so outstanding, and I'm not crazy about the ratatouille side.  I'm grateful to see monkfish on any menu, since it's somewhat rare coming out of L.A. kitchens (hmm, must revise that thought now Cicely tells me monkfish is on the endangered list!).  Spinach gnochetti and, again, wild mushrooms that come with the venison groove my palate way more.  Even the bread, thinly sliced which helps to not OD on it, is soft, crusty and perfect.

For a subtle finish, I recommend the upside down panna cotta capped with blood oranges, and the Torta Sbrisolona, a brown butter shortbread paired with apples and vanilla gelato.  Even the macchiato showcase great espresso making skills, even if the Danesi beans taste a little bitter. 

The staff is exceedingly nice.  I've never had a restaurant owner send over a second bottle of Pellegrino (any food business's cash cow) on the house just because he/she doesn't like to see customers without water.  Wines by the glass are well-priced.  Everyone was totally fine with us having the baby, and we had a perfect corner table.  Weirdly, the soundtrack is all over the place.  Mina and Adriano Celentano's duet "Io Non Volevo" was followed by TLC's "Waterfalls ," and much less popular 90s R&B  tunes.  (I might be one of the few customers who knows and likes both songs.)  But this odd music taste adds to the charm.

I could not have been happier.  The bar has been set high, so we'll have our next meal there with fingers crossed.  And that will be happening very soon, I'm sure.  We've waited long enough.

All'Angelo
7166 Melrose Ave. (west of La Brea)
Los Angeles 90046
323.933.9540

Crisis of Conscience: Spaghetti alle vongole & quick meals

Oof, I'm slacking big time.  It's not easy to type with a very active four-month-old jumping on my lap.

Nor is cooking a simple feat, even if it's getting easier these days.  Without getting into dangerous 30 Minute Meals territory, I'm always on the lookout for quick cooking ideas.  Josh always has good suggestions, and I have years of food magazines I need to peruse for weeknight recipes.

Spaghetti alle vongole, though yet another pasta fall back, fits the bill.  A quick Food Network website search yielded a few recipes, which aren't really necessary unless you're using a special technique, such as the Marcella Hazan method. 

Other than the pasta, all that's required is garlic, hot chili flakes, white wine, olive oil, lemon, parsley, and approximately 3/4 pounds of littleneck clams per person.  (But we could've used better than Mayfair's  mollusk selection.  Oh Fish King, why can't you be closer?)  After simple prep and about 10 minutes of steaming, dinner is done.

While none of my friends would discourage me from cooking in general, Matthew reminded me "friends don't let friends like Rachael Ray."  So let's make sure I don't go down that path, tempting as it may be.  But frankly, I don't have much of a leg to stand on if I'm gonna criticize Rachaelraysian hegemony, do I?

Jumping into the Mozza Fray

Feelings and opinions surrounding Mozza are hot in some circles, whereas in the mainstream food press there's not much debate. 

Frankly I'm sort of talked out about the place, so I'll make my take brief. 

To summarize: the flavor of the dough doesn't transport me to Italy, but no way will you find a better pizza in Los Angeles.  Stick with the simpler ones, like the Margherita and extraordinary funghi misti.  I also loved the sharp anchovy-powered tricolore salad.

The time of day Chandi and I went worked out well; we got a table after waiting 10 minutes or so around 2:00.  They had no problem with me and the baby taking up seats as we waited for our to-go orders, which they were nice enough to prepare for us.  (Take note that Mozza doesn't do phone orders.)  Though I had pizza for too many meals in a row last week, I figured may as well try as much mozza as possible while the getting was good. 

Faint yet surprising praise: TJ's gnocchi

Frozen gnocchi alla sorrentina? WTF? And why was I even buying this thing from the Trader Joe's frozen food aisle, since I expected gross, gummy gnocchi that taste like rolled up Play-Doh pieces? 

But after I rejuvenated the bag's contents on the stove with a generous amount of olive oil topped with freshly grated parm, I wound up with a pretty decent quickie lunch.  Had I had a basil leaf handy my version would've very closely replicated the "serving suggestion" depicted on the package and looked a little prettier. 

The dumplings themselves don't hold a candle to La Buca's or H's homemade ones, but the sauce is more to my liking.  Even if I'm horrified with myself for eating a meal that starts off as a frozen mass of tomato sauce, dough balls and cheese chunks, I might start stashing a bag or two of this item in my freezer for future emergency use.