Ritz Bites

What's for lunch? Nae Go Hyang

My feelings towards whatever historic preservation fieldwork I'm doing are largely dictated by the available eats in the area. Long days in Pico Union were good. Days in West Adams, not so much.

I agreed to a project in K-Town largely because of lunch options. Sadly I'm not organized enough to compile a list of restaurants, but at least my first random choice worked out well.

Nae Go Hyang is in the block-long Oxford Square strip mall on the south side of 8th between Oxford and Serrano. It's a crowded jumble of signs, most of which I can't read for obvious reasons. Some Peeping Tom action had to suffice when picking a lunch spot.

Most people were eating big stainless steel and ceramic bowls full of noodles and soup in different colors and textures. Turns out Nae Go Hyang essentially specializes in buckwheat and whole wheat-based goods. They mixed chewy buckwheat noodles with julienned veggies and a pickly sweetish red sauce at a good tolerance level for me. The leek and veggie pancake was super tasty too, especially for all of $5.54. Big shared buckets of kimchee and tongs are part of the deal.

So far, so good on this work project. At least the eating part.

Nae Go Hyang
3516 W. 8th Street
Koreatown
213.381.0022

WTF took us so long? Campanile Writers' Soup Kitchen

It's February and week I've-lost-count of the WGA Strike. For a while now, Mark Peel has graciously offered the Writers' Soup Kitchen at Campanile featuring prix fixe dinners on Wednesday for $18. The special isn't exclusively for writers only; merely one guest per table has to be a Guild member for all party members to partake.

Apparently WSK nights have been packed ever since this special meal began, but then there are the idiots like us who procrastinate. Thinking about all the typically delicious Campanile food we ate last Wednesday, all I can say is -- dumb move to have waited so long. 

It's an amazing deal. My tangy sidecar cost about half of the $18 meal, and the difference between one dinner and a glass of wine is marginal. We weren't drinking enough to get the $25 bottle paired with the menu, but a friend of ours a couple tables over gave us a glass. (If you're a writer or just know a lot of writers, be prepared to see many familiar faces.) They're giving away the store!

Both the creamy fennel and butternut squash soups started off the meal on the right wintery note. The half grilled chicken was succulent and perfectly charred. The fries vanished, fast. Veal scallopini
isn't my thing, but as far as Italo-Americano classics go, there wasn't anything to complain about. I loved the beluga lentils and pancetta chunks served with the moist and rich mahi mahi. And to finish, small scoops of each vanilla and chocolate gelato tucked together in ebony/ivory harmony and one biscotto are all one needs for dessert.

I still take issue with the name of the meal, but am grateful for the restaurant's largess. And will gladly take advantage of this minor silver lining of the strike again, especially since time might be running out.

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.

Follow-up: Opus (with pictures)

I really want to like Opus.  For the most part I do.  The staff -- from the host to the bussers to the kitchen staff -- are exceedingly friendly and accommodating.  They helped us prop up the car seat on the booth and were tolerant when things got a little dicey with the baby come 10:00 p.m.   The room is shiny and sparkly, and noise level good on a Saturday night.

If only the food were more even.  Hand torn pasta with oodles of cheese and grapes was well-received at our table, as was the not earth-shattering but serviceable butter lettuce salad. 

Opus got a hold of very fresh burratta to blob on crostini toasts that flanked long romaine leaves.  Who doesn't love mounds of soft, gooey expensive cheese?

Our divided opinions reflect not only divergent tastes among our group, but the scattered menu.  And tortilla chips in the bread basket?  Weird. 

I was alone in digging the unusual octopus with crisp pork belly and sweet n' sour pickled watermelon.  There wasn't anything interesting or flavorful about the crisp eggplant salad; the breading applied to the eggplant slices was bland (probably in a misguided effort to keep the fat and calorie count down), as were the cucumber pieces with yogurt and dill.  I felt confused by the overall combo of sensory excitement and food that left my taste buds snoozing.

Peanut butter chocolate cake exploded into messy goodness of the featured ingredients.  Other desserts were just plain... bad.  I'm surprised to know there's a self-respecting pastry chef out there who serves thick panna cotta that feels more like full fat Greek yogurt than a delicate baked custard.  Then my mouth puckered; the burrata might be prime, but Opus isn't scouring the markets in search of fresh berries.  The ones we were served were downright sour and were better left tossed aside.  (The strawberry shortcake's stuff was a little better.)  A tuille with black sesame seeds didn't add anything worthwhile either.   

At least we couldn't go wrong with the lovely Moscato D'asti for our last taste of the meal. 

And yet Opus, I sincerely root for you. 

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

Skilled Compositions at Opus

Double date night!  What a perfect time for dinner at Opus, where I've been woefully delinquent in visiting.  It's close to grandparents' house for the baby drop-off  -- perfect.  (In my excitement for a night out I forgot my camera.) 

I've always rooted for whatever restaurant takes on this daunting retail frontage.  The vaguely Asian "zen" (I know, groan) style decor meets dark steakhouse/cigar bar/urbane lounge vibe (think dark woods, leather, slick glass partitions) is a smart update on this huge space in the Deco landmark, where I'm sorta bummed to not be joining Lauren for the Patty Griffin show tonight.  The design tries to find some intersection of sensibilities so that K-town locals, Hollywood big shots, Hancock Park matrons, and concert-going kids will experience some level of both comfort and glamour. 

In addition to the massive dining room with soaring ceilings and the deep bar located at the entrance, Opus offers a semi-outdoor smoking lounge and a private dining room.  That sure is an awful lot of space to fill, so it's no wonder several businesses have cycled through here.  I'm curious how many seats need to be occupied for Opus to be profitable.  But compared to its various neighbors over the years, Denny's never seems to have a problem.

The fabled $30 "spontaneous" tasting menu bargain didn't disappoint.   That being said, nothing was a complete knockout either.  Including amuse bouche and another small interlude we were given five courses of varying sizes  -- a generous number of items, even if the portions weren't very filling in the aggregate.  Asparagus soup with a lobster dumpling had a smooth nutty bite and got our mood up, as did the additional complementary glasses of prosecco for us gals who didn't order the wine pairings.  But I found prosecco to be an odd choice for an actual pairing, since it's an aperitif, not a "serious" wine to which foods are carefully matched.   We also weren't clear about what dish it was supposed to accompany.

Chef Centeno next tried to take on la nueva cocina with a deconstructed breakfast thing: a poached egg and bacon concoction, mixed with honey and Cream of Wheat, came coddled in the shell.  Though extremely creative, this course wasn't entirely successful.

The intriguing Sangiovese/merlot from the Western Cape of South Africa took care of the early prosecco problem.  It was a great partner to the braised veal cheeks and sweetbreads with winter vegetables and huckleberry reduction.  I didn't think the beets and string beans belonged on that plate.  But nothing like a great glass of a soft, well-rounded wine to remind me of  my foolish, often unfounded wine prejudices.

Pound cake with delicate pineapple and banana ice cream gave the meal a subtle finish.  And to sweeten things a little, our excellent waiter poured a round of lightly effervescent moscato d'Asti all around, also to make up for his having forgotten the octopus side dish we had ordered in addition to the tasting menus.

Dinner left little else in need of compensation, except for one not-so-minor-thing: I ate a tub of curried chicken salad when I got home at midnight.  With this appetite of mine, I better be ordering the six course tasting menu instead. 

Opus Restaurant
3760 Wilshire Blvd.
Los Angeles 90010
213.738.1600

Broth v. Tofu: Beverly Tofu

Tofu or broth?  That is the question.

As was recently explained to me, apparently these two things are the deciding factors between Beverly Soon Tofu and its neighbor across the street, Sokongdong.  Sokongdong was the first soon tofu house I ever went to and I remember those enoki mushrooms and fully rounded broth so fondly.  It's been so long since I've been there that I don't clearly recall the softer, more curdled texture of the tofu.  But I do remember the broth being better than Beverly, where it's sharper and tastes more acidic.

But Beverly's got great panchan that include silky marinated tofu discs, sweet pickled cucumbers and sesame bean sprouts, plus atmosphere to spare.  Though I'm not sure for how much longer I'll be able to sit on those backless natural wood benches.

Beverly Soon Tofu
2717 West Olympic Blvd. #108 (at New Hampshire)
Los Angeles 90006
213.380.1113

On Task: Tasca Wine Bar

Just when I think I'm over small plates, they pull me back in.

Granted Tasca on Third Street doesn't purport to be a traditional tapas bar or try to jump in on the waning trend.  But it gets lumped in that category anyway, because Tasca's menu is divided between small and large plates.  A little bit of ordering confusion arises in our group, at which point I remember that small plates sometimes makes things more difficult rather than convenient.  In the end, however, we're fed and happy, and that's what matters.

Excellent pacing and service have a lot to do with our good moods at the end of the night.  The owners are just so damn nice here.  (I'd been warned.)  Never are we rushed, and we don't ever feel ignored either.  Food comes out just at the right time, with no competing for table or palate space.   We have a lovely chat with Gustavo (owner, I think) about Buenos Aires in between courses.  I silently forgive them for playing the Gotan Project, that most tired of hip restaurant soundtrack staples.  (I'm hardly in a position to criticize since I'm going to the Gotan show at the Bowl the next night.)

No BYOB means H can bring a versatile enough Consilience 2002 Great Oaks Vineyard syrah, which makes me very jealous.  While BYOB has its obvious perks, I'm also glad Tasca finally gets its liquor license next week, so look forward to some good malbecs.  Hopefully this development will increase the buzz and put some more butts in the bar stools that sat empty on Saturday night. 

And what about the food, you ask?  With the exception of a couple off-notes, it's all on target.  Baby artichokes with heirloom tomato slices are firm yet chewy, and bring the simple ingredients together.  The portion is much bigger than I expect, too.  I could've gotten another order of the truffled potato chips.  Rich heavy dishes are best, like the braised short ribs and fettuccine with duck confit.  Had I been focused on the wine I would've ordered more food in this genre rather than stuck to the light stuff, like the disappointingly bland baby octopus salad with mussels, roasted peppers and olives. 

If you're looking for a dessert smorgasbord you best go elsewhere.  Tasca offers only about four items, but two of which we can vouch for their quality.  Strong espresso flavor runs through the gooey chocolate pot du creme, and apple pocket with vanilla ice cream is filled with robust roasted fruit and thankfully, no icky syrups or other fruit byproducts are involved.

Most of the tables are full on Saturday night, plus there's a little scene of outside diners chillin' on sensible outdoor chairs.  While these folks get to enjoy their smokes, they miss out on the blue/brown scheme with antique mirrors and rich woods inside.  And the best touch?  The eclectic selection of beautiful old silverware, likely collected from vintage stores and flea markets in Buenos Aires.  I should've spent more time antique hunting there.

Tasca
8108 W. Third Street
Los Angeles 90048 
323.951.9890

New Twists on Old Classics: Campanile's GCN

How's about a quick rehashing of Grilled Cheese Night at Campanile on Thursday night?

I applaud the recently added open-faced sandwich featuring wild mushrooms with shell beans, sharp Pecorino Romano and parsley sauce (below).  Some of the mushrooms were perfectly nearly charred on the outside and moist inside.  The ingredients together formed a heft that spoke of flavorful, healthy and earthy proteins.

H is already a fan of the sliders (below), so these weren't new to him.  But no less exciting.  These compact burgers were oozing with juice and velvety toppings like caramelized onions and crazy thick pancetta.

Not many foods manage to make an impression that's simultaneously diminutive, macho and adorable.

Lately I just can't say no or keep my hands to myself when a fried potato appears within grabbing distance.  So I ate most of the fries.  That was fun.

I harbor better memories of Broken Napoleons of days past.  This version with plum sauce wasn't as crispy and interestingly textured as others I've had.  But I can't say it's a bad dessert.

Like all things at Campanile, even their average is better than the good that exists outside these walls.