Ritz Bites

Object fetish: Dyson Airblade at Tavern Brentwood

The details to be admired in the newest Goin/Styne restaurant venture, Tavern, are many. And that Angeleno sandwich with cavolo nero, artichokes and burrata is phenomenal, as are the soft choco chips cookies from the Larder.

But good GOD, do I love the hand dryers in Tavern's crazily disorienting quasi-coed bathroom!

Henry swears he's seen the Dyson Airblade in a few places around town, even if he can't recall any specifically. Last week was my first encounter with the magical piece of equipment.

I had to look like an idiot for a few seconds to figure out where to put my hands, but then just a few more short seconds later they were completely dry. Being more of a Miele vacuum girl myself means I generally think the Dyson designs are too tricked out, but the Airblade is so completely awesome. If anyone is in need of ridiculous gift ideas for me, maybe it's time to consider that hand vac. Now if only Dyson made home model hand dryers.

My lunch with F.Adria

My hand is cramping and I haven't written this fast or furiously since grad school. I'm not alone; the fifteen or so folks seated around the table are also as riveted as eager students in a seminar.

But when the pen goes down, I pick up a fork, and eat insanely delicious bites of carefully crafted foods showcasing Wolfgang Puck, Lee Hefter and Sherry Yard's A-games. And we're not in a lecture hall, but instead the private dining room at Spago on a weekday afternoon for a media lunch. All designed to welcome and no doubt impress Ferran Adrià on his first trip to Los Angeles, who's in town only for a couple days during his quick international book tour. (Next stop after L.A.: Sydney.)

Along with a modest posse that included his gracious translator and the super congenial and social José Andrés (the kind of guy you want at EVERY dinner party), we were told the drill: no talking when the food arrives. Just smelling and eating. Ferran thinks it's weird that Americans don't smell their food much before eating. (There were a couple other inevitable in-Country-X-we-do-this-vs.-in-Country-Y-you-do-that type of cultural comparisons.) But within what felt like a few seconds after each course was served, he was onto a new topic and eagerly answering questions. It was almost equal parts meal and non-didactic lecture/conversation. 

I literally have pages of notes about his thoughts on ingredients, sourcing fish, creativity, gazpacho debates of the late 1990s, origins of nouvelle cuisine, Michel Guérard, unfair maligning of creative cooking, and the thorny contradictions of tradition. Much to the relief of the cooks, he wasn't stingy with the compliments, and was open and kind in conversation and manner. Plus he and José agreed that Chipiona is "very important," which my husband was SO thrilled to hear. But Betty and Evan already succinctly summarized some of these factoids, so keep reading if you want more details of the food itself...

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

Gotta love food for a good cause: Planned Parenthood Food Fare

The list of participating vendors in the annual Planned Parenthood Food Fare lured me out to the fabulous Santa Monica Civic to join other pro-choice Ladies of Leisure who are able to attend a Thursday afternoon event. All in all it was lovely, and offered plenty of enticing ways to use your dollars to support PPLA's work.

I'm a total pushover at non-profit silent auctions (if you're planning one, be sure to invite me), and I was thrilled to leave with a Kate Mantilini gift certificate, two exciting bottles of Bordeaux, and hundreds of pages of glorious ornament to flip though.

A mitzvah! And at below retail! My grandparents would be proud. 

But I showed up at Food Fare today on more on an empty stomach than I should have. While I didn't exactly leave hungry, I wasn't stuffed to the gills either. A quick scan of the room revealed that a lot of the businesses listed on the invite weren't to be found. Turns out many of the big names only come to the later shift, and the mid-day crowd misses out. At least I had dinner at A.O.C. last night, so I didn't pout about Goin goods deprivation. 

Highlights included Linda's Gourmet Latkes, which I will definitely be seeking out next time I can't stand to face pounds of potatoes and hot splattering pans of oil. La Provence in Beverly Hills (and coming soon to Brentwood) made some impressive macarons, and salad bites from newly opened Culver City hot spot Akasha had an interesting spicy surprise. Tuna tartare with shiso from Michael's is the closest I've ever been to eating at that legendary room on 3rd Street, and chicken tagine from Kitchen for Exploring Foods again proved its among the city's best foolproof catering options. I also went back for seconds of Clementine's chocolate pudding.

Events like this are not easy to organize, so kudos. And I look forward to drinking Bordeaux while looking at 15th century polychrome velvet patterns.

It's Craft(y), it's just my type

Going to Craft without my camera was an absent-minded move. But since it's not a dainty kind of place with an excruciatingly delicate plating style, let me set the scene of the table: plates and cast iron cauldrons heaped full of direct, single-ingredient focused, rich dishes that all tasted amazing on a rainy Los Angeles night. I wasn't even cranky about waiting half and hour for our table. The ginger-spiked sidecar helped ease that situation, too.

Sometimes I love not quite knowing what to expect when I order a dish and finding out what a cryptic or, realistically, pretentious description yields. Then other times it's more satisfying to know that what you see is what you'll get, especially with the understanding that you'll get the best ingredients and preparation. Since it'd been a while since my last Big Fancy Dinner, the latter worked best for my wants and needs. I didn't want to be let down or confused, and I was neither at Craft. I would be happy with almost everything on the menu , so we had to order the family style items with laser beam focus.

Choosing once was hard enough. What to do next time? Re-experience the extraordinary surprising juicy Peruvian octopus with thick Greek yogurt, molten tender short ribs, perfectly roasted beet salad, and creative duck egg/ waffle combo? Not to mention the meaty and silky hen of the woods mushrooms and Brussels sprouts with thick hunks of crisp bacon. Best to go with more friends willing to blow a wad to revisit these faves, and try to make a dent in the wide (literally) menu. (I now understand why it's the best utilitarian agent power lunch spot for people who eat there several times a week.)

Despite early criticisms of exorbitant prices, ordering right doesn't mean having to wash dishes given Craft's brand of swanky, expense account eating. We even had a few morsels left over. Our four first courses, three seconds, and two sides formula worked out just fine. I'm certainly not saying it's not expensive, though.   

Oh, and we can't forget the final touches. Sweet, sweet dessert made us swoon, including an amuse bouche that tasted like liquid cheesecake with mango bits. Will someone further east in L.A. please make a meyer lemon chiboust that's as airy and delectable as Craft's, and paired with funky goods like fluffy, complexly textured coconut cake and thyme sorbet? I'm not a donut fanatic, but those went fast at our table and were instant buddies with the sarsaparilla, maple bacon, and creamsicle ice creams and sorbets. 

Regarding the fruit of the vine, I'll be going to Mission Wines to pick up some Betts & Scholl Grenache Chronique. Given the intensity and range of Craft's menu, it's a tall order to pick versatile wines, but this lighter, not overly ripe one hit all the right notes. Plus you gotta love a wine named for Dr. Dre.

To end things right, the parting gift was a warm fuzzy in the cold corporate environment of Century City. Maybe There Ain't No Such Thing as Free Food an Expensive Meal (T.A.N.S.T.A.F.F.E.M.), but the moist carrot raisin muffins gave us a bonus perk of something else predictably delicious to savor the next morning.

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

Mr. Wilson's Kitchen of Wonder

The new Culver City has arrived.  Along with more folks wearing Corbu specs than any other part of town, its five square miles is suddenly packed with places to eat.  I never thought I'd be jealous of neighborhood amenities over in that once sleepy suburb, but I am.

Wilson is part of this new crop, and one of the restaurants where it's  easier to plan ahead for a civilized meal for those of us who can't wait an hour for a seat down the street.

There's little to not love here if you're partial to functional furniture that looks like Paul Smith designed it, and if you prefer some Dwell mag style mixed in with an Alice Watersesque kitchen vibe.  The cooking is delicious with some hidden surprises that aren't annoyingly wacky.

I've had a lot of versions of grilled octopus, but never with equally charred green beans and smooth almond slivers.  The gluttonous slow roasted pork has its requisite sweet and savory components, and the grits are studded with corn kernels to give the meltingly soft stuff on the plate some bite, plus a generous pile of greens.  Arctic char reminds me of the firm, sweet ocean trout I had at Bouchon in Santa Barbara.  I bet this dish with soft leeks, tear drop tomatoes and cockles will be ordered more as summer nights warm up.

Not everything is pitch perfect. We're stuck with one damn bad waiter.  We have to wave our arms wildly to get anyone's attention.  He pushes the most expensive wine on the menu -- one of my most hated service tactics.  When asked for wines by the glass, they're recited only by their grape.  Um, we'd like some more information, thank you... 

And when the couple next to us are confused by their still-frozen mousse, he grabs a utensil, crudely carves the offending dessert into more manageable chunks, and walks away satisfied, as if he's done them a favor.  I know it's a really difficult and often thankless job, but that's a pretty funky approach to customer service.

Desserts are the least interesting part of dinner.  The aforementioned hard strawberry white chocolate mousse feels like a semifreddo because it's served too cold.  A lot more effort is put into its whimsical blooming flower presentation than flavor (gelato cones in Parma are spread for a similar effect).  The cookie covering the creme brulee ramekin gives a satisfying extra crunch, and dark chocolate blackberry cake is the densest of the three sweets.

Hollywood, busting at the seams with clubs and not enough exciting new restaurants, needs to take a page from Culver City's book. 

Wouldn't it be nice.

Wilson
8631 Washington Blvd.
Culver City 90232
310.287.2093

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.

A Sunday in Venice

Over-tread cliches about Venice aside, this part of town provides flashbacks and fast-forward glimpses into what Los Angeles was, is and will be.  Food culture is no exception.

Ten years or so before farmers' market-driven cuisine became the default hallmark of a certain caliber of urban sophisticated restaurant, there was the "bar and grill."  Many of these have fallen by the wayside, or exist in chain form, but some individual outposts have managed to maintain their unique qualities and decades-proof charm.

Hal's Bar and Grill in Venice is one of the latter.  It has one of the more diverse social scenes in town, and the muted interior with exposed trusses and interesting art don't feel dated.  The expansive dining room remains down-to-earth, comfortable and relaxed, and the food, while not ambitious, is surprisingly well-priced and tasty.  It's one of those spaces that's very appealing both when flooded with natural daylight and moodily lit after dark.  I was glad MOP picked it as a Sunday brunch spot for us to rendezvous in his 'hood.  I rather liked the veggie egg white scramble (with a side of bacon to make up for the healthiness of it all), H was happy with Manuel's scramble.  Most dishes are ten bucks, give or take a couple dollars.  Not bad at all.

When I find myself on the Westside I always wind up lingering in order to make the most of the schlep.  Translation: I try to be a social slut for the sake of convenience.  So, we met up with other friends for an afternoon caffeine boost.  Located off the Boardwalk in a storefront the fabulous white glazed brick-clad Waldorf Hotel, Groundworks is one of those coffee companies that seems to be sincere and fairly hard core about what they do.  Even if the barista at this location didn't have his foaming technique totally down, he made a good effort with pulling the espresso and made one of the better cups you'll find around town.

The Boardwalk hasn't changed much, but I'm still shocked at what Abbot Kinney's become.  Jin Patisserie has received a lot of well-deserved attention since it opened in the turn-of-the-last-century bungalow that compactly houses this confection shop and its enclosed front patio.  Everything is perfect -- yet not uptight -- from the color scheme to the paper bags to the delicate sweets themselves. 

We had to wait for a while to get a box of mixed macarons made in a dizzying array of flavors, but that's because each one was freshly assembled.  The poppy seed and lavender varieties were standouts; the shell portion is squishier and not quite as subtle as Boule's, but the fillings richer and unique without being too crazy.  Maybe they're a tad pretentious.  Somewhat like the direction Venice is headed in these days.