Here, Eat This! The Adventures of Kiki Maraschino

Cafe Boogaloo arrived on the scene in Hermosa Beach in 1995, around the same time I moved back to my hometown. It was the perfect place to meet up with old friends or to have a drink with first dates. The decor is upscale down-home and filled with one-of-a-kind folk art, somewhat similar to the House of Blues. Dim lighting, large westerly facing windows and lazily rotating ceiling fans keep the interior cool on warm days and crowded nights. The ambiant music is a good mix, with the likes of Muddy Waters and Professor Longhair. Cafe Boogaloo also has live music at night and a full bar.

Every time I went there in the mid-90s I always ordered the same thing – the very nouvelle Crawfish and Andouille Eggrolls. Fusion cuisine has brought forth some unholy Frankenstein creations, but every once in awhile one worked. I have always respected Cafe Boogaloo for making such a strange creation so cravable.

When I returned to my old haunt last weekend, I was saddened to discover that those egg rolls are no longer on the menu. But the experienced and affable server offered me the best alternative she could – a deep-fried shrimp appetizer which came with a similar dipping sauce. The dipping sauce was loosely based on a jezebel, made with chutney and quite a bit of cayenne. The tender shrimp were deep-fried in a hushpuppy batter that made them kind of like corndog-shrimp. It made me curious about trying them with a creole mustard-based sauce.
I wanted to compare similar menu items as much as possible in this series, so I made sure to order the Cafe’s catfish appetizer. The cornmeal crust was tight and perfect, but unlike the fried shrimp, they were slightly greasy. The dipping sauce was a very good remoulade.

I noticed they have a debris* sandwich on their menu. In parenthesis, it says “messy-better than Mother’s.” Better than Mother’s? Better than Mother’s? The hubris! That’s like John Lennon saying the Beatles were bigger than Jesus. Mother’s invented debris po’boys. No one in New Orleans would dare take them on. This I have to see. Because if they truly are better than Mother’s, I will just move right in and live in Cafe Boogaloo until I get so fat they have to call Dick Gregory, and the paramedics will have to break down a wall to get me out.

Really, it was impossible to make any real comparison to Mother’s because it was a completely different sandwich. Comprised of the finest brisket, rather than the muck at the bottom of the pan, the sandwich rested on a dense, ciabatta-like bread, not french bread. Instead of lettuce, there was shredded cabbage. Instead of dill pickles there were bread-and-butter pickles. The pan drippings had soaked the bottom slice of bread, and some drippings were drizzled on the top. The drizzle on top confounded me, because my secret method for eating a debris sandwich is to turn it upside down so it won’t disintigrate. With both slices of bread drizzled with pan juices, the sandwich broke in half down he middle. It was a damn fine sandwich that I would be pleased to be served anywhere, but it wasn’t Mother’s. The garlic french fries that accompanied the brazen sandwich were crispy and spectacular.

Finally, even though we were stuffed, we had to split a slice of key lime pie. I had never liked it before I tried Cafe Boogaloo’s key lime pie eight years ago. It was so good that I asked for the recipe and I have been making that pie for New Year’s Eve and other special occasions ever since. The pie was heavier than when I make it, and there were flecks of lime rind in the filling. I asked the server if the chef had changed. She told me that they had had a female chef who developed the menu and taught the three line cooks how to make everything. Then the chef moved on, but they still had the same three cooks. The owner oversees the menu himself now. She said he goes to the farmer’s markets every week. He just loves food. She asked me if I was a chef and I told her no, I just love food too.

Later, as I was walking along the bar, I caught sight of some okra. I asked, “Is that pickled okra?” The bartender was quick to hand me a garnish pick with a trio of pickled vegetables and I went right for that okra. A guy who looked like a manlier version of Anderson Cooper commented, “You know where it’s at.” The pickled green bean I was eating was so hot, I choked and had a hard time responding. We started talking about how I pickle okra, and about favorite New Orleans restaurants and chefs. This was a man who loved food. But he seemed so young. I asked him if he was the owner, and sure enough he was. He introduced himself as Stephen. I chided him for taking the egg rolls off the menu and he said, “Funny you should mention that. I was wondering whether or not I should put them back on.” I could have ordered a drink and sat there all night chewing the fat with him.

For me, a good menu is one that piques my interest. I can’t wait to get back there and try Cafe Boogaloo’s smoked duck and shiitake gumbo. Can they keep the shiitakes from getting chewy? Will they put the egg rolls back on the menu? Can their double-cut pork chop rival Emeril’s? We will just have to stay tuned.

Cafe Boogaloo 1238 Hermosa Ave. Hermosa Beach, CA 90254 (310) 318-2324
(Closed Mondays)

* When a roast cooks for a very long time, little bits of fat and meat remain in the bottom of the pan with the drippings. That is debris. Mother’s in New Orleans is world-famous for their debris. Really, a sandwich that is just debris is pretty fatty and mushy. The thing to do at Mother’s is to get a debris and roast beef sandwich, or better yet, a Ferdi, which is ham, roast beef and debris. I personally believe the Ferdi is in the top five of the pantheon of sandwiches.

This is the recipe for a perfect summer pie. Not only is it light and citrusy, but the oven only needs to be on for 20 minutes. For parties, I buy pre-made graham cracker tart crusts to make individual servings. I like to decorate the center of each tart with a single curled strip of lime zest. This recipe makes one pie, or about a dozen tarts. Key lime juice is sold in bottles at gourmet markets and Cost Plus. Refrigerate the bottle after opening, and if the juice starts to darken, toss it. Now might be a good time to invent a refreshing key lime cocktail. Although you occasionally run across fresh key limes in Southern California, they are tiny, and look like they are difficult to juice so I have never tried it. Thanks so much to Stephen at Cafe Boogaloo for giving me this recipe many years ago, and for recently giving me permission to share the magic with all of you.

KEY LIME PIE

3 egg yolks

1 (14 oz.) can sweetened condensed milk

1/3 cup key lime juice

1/2 pound cream cheese, softened

Fill a medium-sized pot of water 2/3 of the way up with water. Bring to a to a simmer. Turn off the burner under the pot. Set a heatproof bowl over the larger bowl (like a bain marie). Add egg yolks, sweetened condensed milk and key lime juice to the bowl. Stir often over simmering water for about 15 minutes until mixture is warm.

(At this point I cheat and add chopped pieces of cream cheese to the warm ingredients, using a wire whisk to mix until the cream cheese is melted and incorporated. Boogaloo Cafe recommends the following step…) In a mixing bowl, whip cream cheese. Gradually add the milk mixture, scraping down the sides of the bowl. Incorporate the milk mixture slowly to avoid any lumps.

Pour filling into crust. Refrigerate at least 6 hours, preferably overnight.

CRUST:

1 cup crushed vanilla wafers

1/2 cup crushed macadamia nuts (roasted, unsalted)

1/4 cup butter, softened

Preheat oven to 350 degrees fahrenheit.

Pulse ingredients together in a food processor. Press into a pie pan by hand. Bake for 20 minutes. Let cool.

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After flirting with local hipsters Aroma and Alcove, I thought maybe what I needed was someone older, more distinguished. A real gentleman. Someone who would pay for my valet parking and make sure my glass was never empty. Someone who would ply me with wine and sing to me. I wouldn’t have far to look since Vitello’s was right there, waiting across the street for me to wise up.

Yes, I’m talking about THAT Vitello’s. Sadly, its name will forever be linked to the murder of Bonnie Lee Bakley. The sensationalism could have felled a lesser restaurant. Look what happened to poor Mezzaluna. But Vitello’s rode out the storm. Even a change in ownership two years ago has not affected Vitello’s service or quality. Vitello’s is all about making the customer feel welcome. The second time I went there they remembered my name, and while I wait for takeout orders they always bring me an iced tea to sip while I wait – on the house.

The ambiance is very central casting Italian with comfy pleather booths. But it’s classy – one step up from the checkered tablecloths and chianti bottles. I like to sit in the back, in the piano bar. I especially like the crazy Toulouse-Lautrec-inspired paintings. It’s like what he would have been painting if he had somehow been even more wormwood-addled. I also like the entertainment. Friday, Saturday, Sunday and Wednesday nights are opera nights, with various regulars coming up to sing opera and show tunes. Thursdays are piano nights with Robert, who sings everything from Phantom of the Opera to Avril Lavigne.

Vitello’s food is not the best Italian I have ever had, but it is pretty darn good. The combination of friendly service and nice ambiance make pretty darn good worth going back for. The quality of their appetizers vary. The fried zucchini is a little soggy and greasy. But the appetizer pizzetti – oh my God. All pizzas should strive for this kind of perfection. And I haven’t even tried their pizza entrees yet. The house salad is standard, but care has gone into developing the salad entrees. The Chicken Arugala has fresh greens doused in an unusual and refreshing citrus dressing. I found the chicken on the salad to be a little too salty, but the two friends I forced to try it thought it was just fine.

The pastas are swoon-worthy. The first time I went to Vitello’s the “Robert Blake” was recommended to me. In spite of the stigma, my friends insisted it was the best dish on the menu. I felt weird ordering it. I silently pleaded, “Please, please, please don’t think I’m a gorehound”. I learned that lesson the hard way when I was a teenager. I ended up stuck at Spahn Ranch with a flat tire, peaking just as it was getting dark. The “Blake”, as the waiters more tactfully call it, is al dente fusilli doused in a nicely seasoned marinara and mixed with sauteed spinach. (I will NOT say it was to die for. The dark humor is almost irresistible). It was pretty damn good. I wouldn’t mind having it named after me.

The basic spaghetti with marinara or meat sauce is also pretty standard but exactly what you want when you are in that kind of mood. The farfalle with pink sauce relies on ricotta rather than cream for its pinkness, but the ricotta is of such a high quality that you don’t miss the richness of the cream. Where Vitello’s takes it over the top for me is with the cannelloni and manicotti. Homemade crepes (not tubes of pasta as some restaurants will try to fob off on you) are filled, then drowned in red sauce and baked with mozzarella. The manicotti is stuffed with creamy ricotta while the cannelloni is bursting with a ground beef filling that tastes like it was ground in-house from that night’s steak trimmings.

Vitello’s entrees combine traditional offerings with the more unusual. The Chicken Marsala was moist and gently cooked. But it had a strange citrus tang and was missing the intense wine flavor that you would expect to be predominant from a place like this. It seemed like a cross between Marsala and Picatta. There were mushrooms, but there were no capers. After studying the menu, I think we accidentally ended up with Chicken Arancio, “Mushrooms and garlic sauteed in an orange sauce”. The sausage and peppers comes with spicy but not too spicy sausage with a nice snap. The braciola did not quite measure up to the braciola we make out of Rao’s cookbook. There were pinenuts and cheese in the stuffing, which are not my thing. I prefer a more traditional breadcrumb stuffing.

I dropped by to pick up a to-go order last week and was sipping my iced tea while playing my favorite game of “How many C-list actors can I identify from their headshots on the wall?” There was Victor French, ooh, and Mr Whipple! Good one! A newish hostess started chatting with me. She almost immediately brought up Robert Blake, and started hunting for his picture. I said, “I don’t think it’s here”. She hollered back to the kitchen, “She wants to know if we took down the picture of Robert Blake!” Oh God. No, no, no, no, no! A guy came out and gave me that “Oh geez, another gorehound” look. Ugh. He shrugged and said, “He never dropped one off for us.” I was tempted to say, “Yeah. Maybe he got confused when he heard someone needed a headshot and thought they meant a head shot.” But I felt embarassed and stupid and said ingratiatingly, “I really like the fusilli. I’m so glad you didn’t take it off the menu.” He replied defensively, “It’s been on the menu for 15 years.” There’s just no avoiding it. Once a restaurant has become infamous, it will always be infamous.

When I got home, my husband peeked into the take-out containers. “What’s that?”

“The Robert Blake.”

“Looks killer.”

Vitello’s 4349 Tujunga Ave Studio City CA 91604 (818) 769-0905

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It is officially barbeque season! If you’ve already mastered grilling, and are ready to move up to the next level, welcome to the world of smoking. Just remember, grilling is like a one-night stand and smoking is like a marriage. You should prep the ribs the night before and start smoking them six hours before serving. It requires a certain level of commitment. But the commitment is only one of time; there is not very much work involved. It is also not a big financial commitment. There is no need to shell out hundreds of dollars for a smoker. Any barbecue can be used to smoke meats. But if you are into shiny new toys, go for the Smoky Mountain.

Larger barbecues are the best ones for smoking, because the grill sits higher, further from the coals, plus you have more grill space to work with. You will only be able to use half of the available grill space when smoking meat using the “indirect method”. If you are currently in the market for a grill, no barbecue works better with this method than an old-fashioned oil drum. Historically, wherever the US military goes, it leaves behind a surplus of empty oil drums. People in the West Indes used them to make Calypso’s famous steel drums, but the GIs in Viet Nam turned them sideways, sliced them in half, and added a grill.

You can still find old-fashioned oil drum barbecues in Los Angeles. After years of searching, I found mine at “Sweet Daddy’s” on the south side of Century Boulevard, west of the 110 freeway. Just keep an eye out for the barbecues lined up in the front yard, and if you hit the racetrack, you’ve gone too far. Some of the barbecues come with an attached smoker, which is handy if you want to maximize grill space and want to achieve an especially smoky flavor. Just remember that the metal is thin, because this really is just an oil drum which was not meant for this purpose. You need to add about 4 inches of sand to the bottom of the barbecue so that the hot coals don’t gradually burn through the bottom. Sand can be purchased at home improvement stores, or stolen from your local playground. The only problem with Sweet Daddy’s oil drum barbecues is that they do not have a trap door on the side for shoveling in more coal if the coals die down. With a truly long smoke, the coals will need to be replenished, and you will have to lift the grill right off the barbecue to add more. Commercial barbecues based on the oil drum model are more convenient, even if they lack the nostalgia of the genuine article.

I am going to provide the method I use for smoking pork ribs, which can be used for either baby-back or a full-sized rack. This method will work for just about any meat, but the cooking times will vary. If you have a full rack of ribs, some people hack off the small triangular tip at the small end, but I don’t see any point to that. The ribs are covered with a thin membrane called the “silver skin”. If you buy from an actual butcher you may be able to charm him into removing the membrane for you. If not, you will need a very sharp knife and a steady hand. Lightly slice into the membrane on one end, then try to slide your fingers between the skin and meat to separate them as much as possible. Holding the knife blade sideways, gently cut away at the skin. I will not lie to you, this is a big hassle and I usually don’t bother.

Now comes your first big decision: rub or marinade. I am a staunch supporter of the rub, whereas my husband goes for the marinade. Some people even use both, marinating the ribs overnight, then rubbing them with spices right before cooking. Whatever you decide, make sure to rub the rack of ribs with spices or put it in the marinade the night before, cover or wrap tightly with plastic wrap, and refrigerate until ready to cook. Bobby Seale says that if you don’t have this kind of time, you can do a “warm marinade” by placing the ribs and marinade in a 200-degree oven for two hours, but I find that idea a little revolutionary. Prepare enough marinade so you have “extra” to use as a baste. Store it in a separate container. You never want anything that touched raw meat to touch cooked meat. If you are using a rub, you will still need to prepare a baste for the next day. I will provide rub and marinade recipes in a separate post, since this one is already turning into a book.

Your second decision is smoking wood. Traditionally, mesquite or hickory is used with pork. I find mesquite’s flavor to be too overpowering, so I go with hickory. For beef, oak is a good bet, and for chicken or fish cherry is a nice wood. If you buy chips, soak them in water or marinade for a half-hour before using them. If you are able to get chunks of wood, soaking is not necessary.

Mound a bunch of coals on one side of the barbecue and light them. Some people use newspaper to start them up, some people use a purchased “chimney”, or just soak the hell out of them with lighter fluid. Once the coals get white-hot, use a poker, fireplace shovel, or other tool to spread them evenly on only one side of the barbecue. The success of this method depends upon the coals burning only on half of the barbecue. Sprinkle some of the soaked chips on top of the coals. If you are using a gas grill, only light one side. You probably have a metal pan to fill with water and chips for smoking if you have a gas grill, but that is not my area of expertise. You will have to go ask Hank Hill. The main benefit of a gas grill is temperature regulation. You want to keep the temperature at a steady 225 degrees, or as close to that as you can get. Charcoal users will need to purchase a special barbecue thermometer. Some of the nicer models even come with a separate gauge that you can wear on your belt so you don’t have to keep running back outside to monitor grill temperature.

Remove the ribs from the refrigerator. If you are using a rub, add a little more rub to the ribs. If you are using a marinade, discard the used marinade. You can boil it if you are really thrifty, but better safe than sorry. Place the ribs on the cold side of the grill, opposite the lit coals. The ribs should not be directly above the coals, hence the term, “indirect”. It’s a good idea to throw some hot dogs on the side with the coals – you will get pretty hungry waiting for the ribs to smoke. Turn the hot dogs after about five minutes, then take them off the grill after about eight minutes. Close the barbecue lid, and allow the ribs to cook for two hours. During this time, wash all of the utensils that you have used on the raw meat.

Baste the ribs with the pre-prepared marinade and throw a few more soaked wood chips on the coals. Cook for an additional hour (making a total of three hours so far – good thing you made those hot dogs) and baste again. Take your ribs off of the barbecue and take them into the kitchen. Some people will think that they are done now – but they are not done. This is a marriage. You are in it for the long haul. Don’t wuss out now. Go back out to your barbecue. Stir in more charcoal and wood chips. Now, come back into the kitchen and lay each rack of ribs on a large piece of heavy-duty tin foil. Sprinkle a little bit of brown sugar on them and pour a little marinade on top (with any other meat, add a little more of the rub instead of brown sugar). Wrap the ribs up tightly with foil. Air-tight. Wrap the hell out of them. You want to steam the ribs to make them insanely tender.

Return the ribs to the barbecue, close the lid and leave them alone for 2 ½ hours (For a total of 5 ½ hours cooking time so far. Man, where did I put those hot dogs?). This is the point where grill temperature is crucial, because if it goes above 225 the brown sugar will burn. If you have invited people over, they will be arriving right about now and all of the men will want to mess with your barbecue and poke at the coals. They will think that the fire is too low and they will urge you to add more charcoal. You have invested too much time to let dilettantes screw everything up now. Shoo them away. Take the ribs out of the foil, toss the foil, and slather the ribs with your favorite barbecue sauce. Some people prefer to keep the ribs dry and serve sauce on the side. Return the ribs to the barbecue, and cook, turning once, for another thirty minutes (Add more soaked chips if you like a more pronounced smokiness). After a total of six hours cooking time, you can take the ribs off of the grill and you are finally done. Pat yourself on the back and enjoy the compliments.

Here is a cheat sheet:

Rub or marinate ribs the night before.
Smoke at 225º for 2 hours.
Baste the ribs.
Smoke 1 more hour.
Wrap in foil at the 3 hour mark.
Cook another 2 1/2 hours.
Remove from foil and return to the grill for the last 30 minutes.
At the 6 hour mark you will know barbeque greatness.

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While I was deciding whether or not to break things off with Aroma, I thought I might go check out the sister restaurant, Alcove. I mean, it was right there on the way to Wacko. It would almost be rude not to stop. I had my nephew along for the ride too, so it was almost like meeting the would-be in-laws.

Such a beautiful patio! Such a garden! If only my vines would climb like that, if only my trees gnarled with such character. This is the house my grandmother would have lived in. Not my real grandmother, who had a lovely little duplex in Penticton BC, but my imaginary grandmother – the one who could grow orchids and didn’t make blueberry muffins by mixing tap water into some blue-specked powder from a cardboard box. Although I have to admit, my grandmother did dye her hair an insanely bright orange right into her 80s, so I wasn’t exactly gypped in the grandmother department. In fact, her David Lynchian looks and matching orange lipstick might have fit in quite nicely with this neighborhood. But I digress.

The thing about these restaurants is that they are just so beautiful. They make you want to cozy into an old wooden chair under a leafy bough, or sink into a deep velvet end chair inside and start writing that great American novel. It even seems plausible, as long as the steaming cups of tea and little plates of cakes keep coming. I wonder if I could hire them to just come re-do my house and garden for me. I mean, really, look at this flower arrangement. One of their employees actually thought to arrange lisianthus in old jars with antique oil funnels. And it works. It should be in Martha Stewart, for God’s sake.

And then, there’s this:

A good hostess should pay attention to detail. A good hostess should never let anything, even putting lemon and orange wedges in your tea, become a dull experience. I often see things like this in 1960s guides to entertaining. Housewives were often on valium in the 60s. All this magnificence and we haven’t even set foot in the cheese shop yet. I know, that’s all Los Feliz needs is another cheese shop. I will save my rant on unfair distribution of camembert for another day. It’s time to place our order and get on with the food, already.

The menu is almost identical to the menu at Aroma. With one glaring exception – no lobster club. You could have lobster added to a salad, but sadly, unless you wanted to get all “Five Easy Pieces” on them it is probably not doable. But I do like all of the options offered with the salads. The Asian Grilled Scallop Salad beckons, with its enoki mushrooms, fresh herbs, miso dressing and crispy shredded potatoes. But I started this out as a comparison piece on sandwiches, and should try to stick with the format. I had heard people swoon over the egg salad, so I thought I would give it a try, and substituted onion rings for fries. My nephew went for a fried chicken wrap and French fries. We also ordered a giant slice of a white chocolate/chocolate cake. We dutifully collected our silverware, assigned number, drinks and cake, and thus overloaded, carefully maneuvered our way back to our table between rickety, crowded chairs, “Excuse me, pardon me. Excuse me, pardon me.” We arrived safely with only some minor liberties haven been taken by a very friendly dog.

The massive onion rings were sweet, like big onion donuts. My nephew, an experienced New England fry cook, identified it as pancake batter. They were too intense to eat, but they just called out to be played with.

They didn’t have any white or egg bread, so I was stuck with sourdough for the egg salad sandwich. Egg salad is so bland, it really needs a bland bread. The primary flavor was not onion as I had hoped, but mustard seed and lots of it. It’s a pretty good sandwich overall, fresh and all that, so if you like mustard seed this one’s for you. The fried chicken wrap was excellent, with perfectly fried chicken. There was an overabundance of red pepper, but they are easy enough to pick out. My nephew freaked me out by putting Tabasco on his fries, and then eating them with the cake. I think Quebec gave him funny ideas about what actually goes with fries. Chocolate poutaine? I tried a bite, and it wasn’t bad, but I can’t believe someone without PMS would ever eat that.

I stopped in their cheese shop to pick up a picnic dinner. This is where I would spend most evenings if I still lived around the corner. The staff was extremely patient, because selecting cheese can be an arduous process. They also have a section of little pre-packaged snacks and lunches. A half-hour and a hundred dollars later I had two bags overstuffed with cheese, charcuterie, and all kinds of little pickles and peppers. The round red peppers stuffed with goat cheese are highly addictive. This is definitely the place to hit before the Hollywood Bowl.

As I left my new, wonderful, even-better-than-Aroma rebound restaurant, I was taken with a huge flower arrangement that looked like something out of Dr Seuss. Wow, they were good. The gentleman had given me permission to photograph the other flowers. The ladies in the cheese shop had given me permission to photograph the cheese. I was so pleased with my armloads of bags bursting with gourmet delights, I momentarily forgot myself in the happy afterglow and I snapped a picture of the flowers. The guy behind the counter shouted, “Miss, Miss!” I pretended not to hear him as I gathered my purchases. He shouted again, “Miss! Miss! There is no photography inside.” I blurted out from post-traumatic-stress-disorder, “I wasn’t photographing the cakes! I swear! It wasn’t the cake!” He said, “Anywhere outside is fine.” I could not get outside fast enough. So it’s a family thing. This intense paranoia is in their genes. Or maybe I am like a masher. Everything was going great until I just suddenly stuck my tongue down their throat without warning.

1929 Hillhurst Ave. L.A. CA 90027 (323) 644-0100

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Have you ever gone out with someone who was so attractive that you were never really sure if you were good enough for them? And sometimes they treated you like shit because they knew they could get away with it? But you kept going back, no matter what, because they were really, really good in bed? I think that is what is happening between me and Aroma Coffee and Tea. Aroma is my bad boyfriend.

The service at this precious little restaurant on Tujunga has always been perfunctory, but I didn’t mind being ignored as long as my basic needs were being met (sounding dysfunctional yet?). I secretly enjoyed the feeling that I could probably commit a crime, right there, and they would just continue ignoring me. I mean, after all, they cater to celebrities, and there is a yoga studio next door. If I were a famous starlet coming in all trashed on oxycontin, or showing up all sweaty after Bikram yoga, I would definitely want to be treated as if I were invisible.

The first time I sat in the shaded, leafy patio, I felt so at home. The other customers were friendly and chatty, but not in an invasive way. Although the patio is absolute perfection, that is not the reason to swoon over Aroma. That is not the hook. The hook that keeps me coming back is their seafood sandwiches. The lobster club is actually a traditional club, with apple-smoked bacon stacked above the lobster salad, perhaps the most trafe sandwich ever invented. It is made with real Maine lobster. The kind of lobster East coast transplants jones for. I have seen this sandwich put Bostonians into fits of ecstasy.

The crab cake sandwich definitely contains real Dungeness crab, and lots of it. The outer coating is crispy and browned, while the interior stays moist and meaty. The ancho aioli is just similar enough to remoulade to keep me happy. Crab paired with a sweet and smoky red pepper mayonnaise is a match made in heaven. The breads are fresh and freaking fantastic. The lobster club arrives on a lightly toasted egg bread, while the crab cake rests upon a slightly chewy ciabatta. It’s really not fair to the other sandwiches.

Aroma’s other offerings are nothing to sniff at, but they are not worth crying over all night like the seafood sandwiches are. The brie and apple panini with caramelized onions is nice, but it is inexplicably served on rosemary bread. The flavors of brie and apple are too subtle and sweet to stand up to something as overpowering as rosemary. The overstuffed roast beef panini is strong with horseradish, but the bread is already getting soggy by the time it hits the table. Oh, by the way, their french fries kick ass too. Of course.

Aroma will even make me breakfast in the morning. The morning menu is also extremely satisfying, especially the popular huevos rancheros. There is not enough sauce to soften the deep-fried tortillas, so the effect is somewhat similar to chilaquiles. Very good chilaquiles, with properly cooked eggs, black beans, and ripened-to-just-that-magic-moment avocado.

Between the sandwiches and the romantic patio, I had fantasies of long afternoons spent with my new amour, lounging in my best hat over iced tea in the shaded arbor. But the more I started talking to my friends about my new infatuation, the more “issues” they brought up with Aroma. The prices are inflated. You always have to wait. Bourgeouise valet parking. The service is downright unhelpful. One friend pointed out that they do not label their cakes, but whenever you ask them to list the flavors, they get all huffy.

So I decided to put our relationship to the test. I arrived early in the morning and ordered breakfast. Since the place was empty, I started quizzing the server on the cakes. There was no one waiting behind me, so I wanted see how far their patience would last. I wanted to prove my friend wrong. She just didn’t understand Aroma the way I did. There were probably 12 different kinds of cakes in the case. How many flavors would they name before they got angry? About three cakes in, we were doing very well, so I asked for a slice of one (Triple berry – yum). I figured if I ordered a slice or two between queries, I could get her through the entire bakery case.

As long as I was actually finding out all of the flavors, I thought, why not take pictures of the the cakes? Normally I would ask permission before taking a picture inside of a restaurant. But both of the workers were otherwise occupied, and as I said, I was used to them pretty much ignoring me. Plus, there were no other customers around for me to make uncomfortable. So, while my server was busy slicing up a chocolate crunch something-or-other, I leaned down and started taking pictures of the display case.

Suddenly, I magically became visible to the other server. She asked, “May I HELP you?” in the tone that does not mean, “May I be of some assistance?” but the tone that means, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I said casually and I hoped charmingly, “Oh, my friend always has to ask for all of the cake varieties, so I thought it would be cute if I took pictures for her.”

She did not find me charming. She did not think it was cute. She did not act casual in any way. She told me in no uncertain terms that photographing the bakery case was not allowed. Her manner was so intense and uncomfortable, it made me uncomfortable.

I had broken the rules.

I was gauche and uncool.

I should never have tested our relationship. The tension in the room was palpable. I’m sorry, I know that last sentence is so cliché, but it was exactly that. Palpable. I changed my breakfast to a to-go order. I was presented with the manager’s business card, “I just spoke to her, and she’ll be happy to talk to you about all of the cakes.” I accepted the card, and thus dealt with, I was dismissed. If we were romantically involved, this was the point in the date where someone says, “I think it’s best if you just leave right now.”

I skulked into their little book store, feeling very small. But also very confused at the seriousness of my faux-pas. Photographing the bakery case was cause for an immediate, urgent call to the manager? I paced and browsed the books lining the wall while I waited for my to-go order. They were all religious and self-help books, a kind of shallow pretense of depth. I should have known. I’m sorry, Aroma. I mean, I still like you. I just don’t like ME when I’m WITH you.

But like any bad-boy boyfriend, I had to give it one more chance. I put on my lowest-cut top, my “skinny pants” and brought along my attractive and charming nephew. Sure enough, Aroma took me back. Even though it was busy, the handsome guy behind the counter was witty and helpful. See, I knew it was just a misunderstanding. Aroma didn’t MEAN to make me feel bad. But I had to be sure. There was a huge blueberry pie in the bakery case. I mean, this pie was massive. If I were a pie, I would be this pie’s bitch. So I asked my new friend, the handsome counter guy, if I could take a picture of the pie. He said, “Sure. As long as you’re not doing it to try to steal the recipe.”

His reply made many thoughts swirl around in my head all at once. But I have numbered them for your convenience.

1. He was so quick with his answer, it was clear they have some kind of baggage. That would explain why they are so camera-shy. Maybe they have been hurt in the past. The only thing more attractive than a bad-boy is a bad-boy who is secretly hurting inside.

2. Really. I could just buy a whole cake and make a splosh video with it if I wanted. There was no way of stopping me. And to be honest, that big, juicy pie made the idea kind of tempting.

3. I’m pretty good at breaking recipes. But I have yet to look at a photograph of a blueberry pie and think to myself, “Yup. Definitely cornstarch. And just a touch of lemon juice.”

4. They don’t even make their own baked goods. The cupcakes come from Auntie Em’s, and the cakes come from various other suppliers. How can you be so proprietary of something that isn’t even your own creation?

But even as I pondered the photography ban, my order arrived and my lust for their sandwiches was re-ignited. Later, as we swooned over the perfection of the blueberry pie, my nephew stammered, “This pie…Oh my God…like…if I were in prison…” I finished his thought, “If you were in prison, that pie would sell you for a pack of cigarettes”.

Before I finished writing this post, I thought it would only be fair to call the number on that card. I mean, they told me to call the number, right? And I wanted to see what had made them so protective of their cakes. I was easily able to reach the manager on the first try, and we proceeded to have the most awkward phone conversation ever.

She explained to me the myriad reasons for banning photography – paparazzi, location scouts, and corporate espionage. She divulged, perhaps accidentally, “…and then that other place in Encino went and called themselves Aroma.”

I followed up, “So, you’ve been burned?”

She said, “I don’t know what you MEAN by burned.”

“Well, I thought maybe the policy was instituted because you had had a bad experience.”

She asked me what my name was again and it took every ounce of self-control in my body not to say, “Mr. Slugworth.” She then proceeded to lecture me on common courtesy until I felt like a completely thoughtless asshole. She asked me if I still wanted to take pictures, because she could arrange it if I was still interested. I decided to make an appointment for couples counseling instead.

Last week I was driving through Los Feliz while talking to a friend on the cell phone. She asked me where I was.

“I’m on my way to eat lunch at Alcove.”

“Alcove?”

“It’s the sister restaurant of Aroma.”

“Oh my God. I think it’s time for an intervention.”

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It seems like good restaurants tend to cluster together. Maybe it is an ancient herding instinct. One neighborhood that is happening of late is Crenshaw and Adams. To see it today, you would never know that this corner has an infamous drug-laden past. Check out Jerry Stahl’s book, Permanent Midnight, for the whole sordid story. Nowadays, it’s all about the food.

On the west side of Crenshaw, just next to the gas station, stands a long, wooden building with smoke billowing from a giant smokestack. You can see the smoke all the way from the 10 freeway, as if it is calling out to you. Well, maybe it doesn’t call out to you, but it sure as hell calls out to me.

The smoke is coming from the third outpost of Phillips Bar-b-que. At one time, this building was home to Leo’s barbecue. There are still people who like to grumble that it was better when it was Leo’s. Even while they are standing in line at Phillip’s. That’s like saying, “My LAST girlfriend used to LOVE giving blowjobs.” Well, I’m not your last girlfriend, and it’s not Leo’s now, so place your order and move on.

And placing your order is easy at Phillips. Because they have helpfully provided detailed directions for you on a giant easel next to the line at the window where you order:

ATTENTION CUSTOMERS

Do you know what you want? In order to expedite your order please know what you want to order when you get to the window

Would you like
(X) Sandwich (X) Dinner (X) Half or Whole A la Carte (X) Tray

WHAT SIDE ORDERS WOULD YOU LIKE?
(with your sandwich dinner or tray)
potato salad
coleslaw
macaroni salad
bbq beans

YOUR CHOICE OF:
Wheat or white bread
Mild mixed or hot sauce
And do you want the sauce on your order or on the side (there is an extra charge to put sauce on the side)

WOULD YOU LIKE EXTRAS?
Desserts
Beverages
Receipt
Plastic Bag

We’ll be happy to answer any questions

In fact, whenever you mention Phillip’s, the first thing people usually ask is, “You mean the place with all the signs?” The next question is usually, “And they don’t let you eat there?” The main location, on Leimert Boulevard, is take-out only, but the Crenshaw location has two stone benches and a long counter on the side for your dining comfort. Anyways, back to the signs – as you approach the window, there is another helpful sign:

Dear Customer
We are trying to give good service but we need your help. The cashier might not have heard everything you said so please allow the person taking your order the opportunity to make any corrections before you walk away. Allow them the chance to repeat and go over the order with you. Please put all conversations on hold. It will only take a few seconds to listen and a minute or so to make any corrections. Once you have walked out the door we are no longer responsible. Please listen.

Now you would think that with all of these bossy signs, service would be abrupt. But the employees are cheerful, friendly, and helpful. They welcome you with open arms at Phillips. Just don’t fuck around. There are people waiting. Luckily, you have probably been waiting in line long enough to ponder their lengthy menu.

It is a pretty predictable menu, except for the chicken links and beef links, which are considerately offered for those customers who don’t eat the swine. Another atypical item on the menu is the “Small ends”. Actually, Phillips is the only place I have ever seen offer such a thing. When I went onto my barbecue chat boards to discuss them, I confounded all of those guys too. Small ends are the very last ribs on the end of the slab. There are only two small ends per slab, so they often run out. It makes me think that someone at Phillips had a very picky aunt who always demanded this special cut at every family barbecue. Small ends can be tender and sweet, but since they are small, they can dry out very quickly. So I would not recommend ordering them later in the day.

What do I recommend? The pork ribs. They somehow seem to have twice as much meat on them as a regular rib. They are just fatty enough to be rich without being greasy. The smoke flavor enhances and does not overwhelm the flavor of the pork. My suggestion of pork ribs is somewhat controversial. There are those who would fight for the sliced beef, and my mother insists the rib tips are the way to go. The chicken is falling-apart tender with crispy skin, but I sometimes find it a little too smoky. The pork links are extremely hot, so I would only recommend them as part of a combo unless you are really into the heat. I would also highly recommend the baby backs. They are probably the second-best choice on the menu. The pulled pork is not really memorable. Phillips offers a your choice of mild or hot barbecue sauce, or the two of them mixed together. It is a smoky, sweet, multi-layered tomato-based sauce with a little hint of vinegar. I would go with the mixed. It is still mellow enough to not mask the other flavors, but with just a little kick to keep things interesting.

Out of all of the sides that come with a dinner, I love the potato salad best. It is sweet and just slightly vinegary with just a little bit of pickle relish. It is not the kind of potato salad I would make, so it is kind of surprising how much I love it. The other sides are good, but not exceptional in any way. There are also sides that you can only get as extras. The macaroni and cheese combines the sweet Velveeta-style with real cheddar cheese, which I personally think is the ultimate form of mac and cheese. The greens are slightly bitter and also slightly vinegary.

For dessert, Phillip’s offers bean pies from Shabazz, and baked goods from Ruby’s in Inglewood. The red velvet cake is vanilla-based, as opposed to the usual cocoa-based red velvet cake.

And never fear, if you ever do have a problem with Phillips’ food, they are more than happy to make it right. Just make sure you obey the sign.

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It was always a special occasion when my parents took us out for pizza. We always went to the same little family-run restaurant where we were allowed to climb on the chairs and run in the aisles. I can still remember playing “Billy Don’t be a Hero” on the jukebox while drinking root beer out of one of those pebbled plastic glasses. When the pizza finally arrived, it was always presented with a flourish, as if it were a birthday cake. That is the pizzeria against which all other pizzerias in my life have been measured. If you were lucky enough to grow up with a neighborhood pizza joint like this, then you will recognize Folliero’s from the minute you walk in the door.

Serving pizzas in Highland Park since 1968, the Folliero family holds a special place in their customer’s hearts. Everyone greets Titina by name, who they refer to in third person as “the daughter”. She works the counter with a calm and friendly demeanor in spite of the hectic pace, even on a busy Saturday night. She joined the business only a few years ago with plans to carry on the family legacy.

Her father, Tony, who was born in Naples, founded the restaurant almost 40 years ago. At the age of 73, he still comes in early every morning to make the pizza dough himself. There is a local legend that he is the only one who knows how to make the dough, and that he comes in early to make sure it is kept a secret. As romantic as it may sound, that story made Titina giggle until her eyes sparkled. She assured me that the recipe is not kept in a secret underground vault somewhere.

Folliero’s menu is your standard “American-Italian” fare: spaghetti, lasagna, and chicken cacciatore. The only surprises are the shockingly low prices. Large pizzas average ten dollars, and you can get a plate of ravioli for 4.95. It is cash only, but dinner for two will not set you back more than twenty bucks. The medium pizzas are the size of most restaurant’s large. It feeds three people easily. They also serve beer and wine, if you have outgrown root beer.

The tomato sauce is the kind that simmers all day, the pride of the Italian home cook. The chicken parmigiana and cacciatore are served over rigatoni instead of the usual spaghetti. Chicken parmigiana is a dish that is often ruined by a soggy, breaded coating. Folliero’s pounded cutlet is fried with a crispy outer coating that is completely impermeable to sauce. It comes highly recommended for a good reason.

Although their pastas are good, most people come to Folliero’s for the pizza. The sauce is flavorful, and applied with a light hand. The crust is thin and chewy, with a flour-dusted bottom. If you prefer a crispier crust, you can ask to have it “overdone”.One of their most popular pizzas is the somewhat passé ham and pineapple, and they serve an unbelievably cravable chorizo pizza. Their pizza may be authentic Napoli, but they are definitely not purists.

In addition to an excellent traditional margherita, they serve an authentic pizza bianca. The a la Romano is the bianco with ham. The crust is lightly brushed with a garlic olive oil, then topped with cheese and a barely-there sprinkling of rosemary. Just before it is done baking, the pizza is sprinkled with additional mozzarella cheese and returned to the oven. The cheese comes out browned and bubbling on top from that last blast in the oven. The ham is of good quality, although not generously applied.

On Saturdays, the wait is long. But the patient regulars crowd together by the front door, trading stories about how long they have been coming to Folliero’s. A little girl stands on a chair at the counter to watch the pizzas being hand-tossed. Her mother pauses while reminiscing to caution her daughter not to lean so far over the counter. The little girl’s father says, “My parents used to bring me here when I was ten years old.” I can just imagine this little girl saying the exact same thing one day.

Folliero’s Italian Cuisine and Pizza
5566 North Figueroa Street Highland Park, CA 90042 (323) 254-0505
M-F 11am – 9:30pm. Sat & Sun 12 noon – 9:30pm.

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It’s 2am. You’ve closed the bar down and you need something to soak up all of the alcohol. If you’re on the Westside, you might hit a coffeeshop. If you’re on the Eastside, it’s a taqueria. But if you are in Koreatown, it’s all about the Pho.

All night long, these brightly-lit noodle shops that line Western Avenue are jumping. The people-watching alone is priceless, as tables full of drunken 20-somethings holler at the tops of their lungs, jokingly threaten each other with chairs, and generally freak out the wait staff. These 24-hour pho places do not sell beer, accept only cash, and rarely have anyone around who speaks English. The décor is minimalist strip-mall, with your placemat serving double duty as your menu. Some of the places have little call buttons at the table to summon your server.

Pho is a Vietnamese soup comprised of vermicelli noodles, various meats, and a selection of garnishes that you can mix into the pho according to your own taste. The standard garnishes are Thai basil, lime, sliced white onions, and jalapenos as well as Hoison sauce, and hot sauce. Sometimes cilantro and lemon are also included in the garnish selection. Pho is also served in bowls bigger than your head.

The menus at the pho places are nearly identical to each other, even down to the numbering of the dishes. Picture menus make ordering easy. But beware. Do not try to point at a picture of something to ask a question. It is like an auction. If you point at it, you have just ordered it.

The standard dish is the #1, the “House Special”. This is a combination of red meats, usually including brisket, tripe, tendon, and “rare steak” which is sometimes flank, and sometimes something that resembles lunchmeat. You can’t worry too much about what you are eating if you are going to order a combination pho. It is like a scavenger hunt of meaty bits. Also included are super-rubbery meatballs which are probably made with some tendon meat.

Somewhere in the top 5 is usually a seafood combo including shrimp and fishballs. Different types of fish, squid and octopus are known to make an appearance as well.

In the middle of the menu is usually something called the “Super Bowl” which is everything in the House Special and Seafood Combo mixed into one bowl. This soup calls for some serious spelunking, as you pull some random chunk out with your chopsticks and try to identify it. It’s very exciting.

There are also pho bowls for the less adventurous, with only steak or chicken. The Vermicelle is a plate of noodles without the broth, alongside some type of meat, a Vietnamese fried egg roll, and a big pile of chopped peanuts.

Here is a sampling of a few of the most popular Vietnamese noodle restaurants on Western. They are conveniently located only blocks apart.

Pho 4000

Pho 4000 is my favorite. It is the kind of place that makes me want experiment with new things, because I know they will be expertly cooked. It is reputed to be the most “authentic” pho place in Koreatown (meaning, run by people who are from Vietnam). People constantly stumble in and out of the doors of Pho 4000, while the Korean BBQ right next door remains empty. The noodles are cooked perfectly, and the garnishes are the freshest I’ve come across. In the House Special Combo, the meats are tender and flavorful without any gamey off-taste. The tripe is sliced into long, thin strips that mix with the noodles. The tendon is sliced very fine, and almost unnoticeable. The vermicelli is fantastic, little with caramelized bits of meat and egg rolls that you will crave forever. This is the one restaurant that closes early. The sign says Open until 4am, but they often close at 2am.

Food: 9
Friendliness: 6
Fear factor: 4
Trippiness of neon sign: 3
414 S. Western Avenue #B LA, CA 90020 (213) 252-4401

Pho Western

Pho Western is the next-best-thing after Pho 4000 closes. The House special combo has tender chunks of brisket, and smaller bits of tendon and tripe. In fact, this is one place where I kind of like the tendon. Although it is slightly chewy and flavorless at first, it leaves a layer of melting fat one your tongue that is quite pleasant. The meatballs are heavily spiced with pepper, a welcome change form the usual bland meatballs. In the seafood combo, the ingredients are immersed in a crystal-clear, clean-tasting broth. The shrimp is fresh, and the fish balls are light and delicate, like matzoh balls.

Food: 8
Friendliness: 7
Fear factor: 4
Trippiness of neon sign: 8
425 S. Western Avenue #A LA, CA 90020 (213) 387-9100

Pho 2000

Of all the places on Western, this place is the most consistently packed. This is pho for the more adventurous diner. I only made one visit there, with one of my more adventurous friends. On this visit, my House Special was dominated by a giant, unappealing chunk of tendon. It was tough and inedible. The tripe was left in long, fringed strands. This is the one place where the broth and meats were gamey, and the meatballs tasted like organ meat. Not to mention the overcooked noodles clumped together in the center of the bowl. Pho 2000 is about strong flavors, especially fishiness. Luckily, when it comes to my friend, the fishier the better. She went at the fish-filled Super Bowl with gusto. I asked her what it was like. She said, “It’s like swimming through the ocean with my mouth open.” She pulled out a long, suction-cup studded tentacle and sucked it down. I asked her if it was chewy.

She said, “It’s like chewing on an ovary.”

“When have you ever chewed on an ovary?”

“I haven’t. I just know that’s what it would be like.”

Food (my vote): 2
Food (Tequila’s vote): 7
Friendliness: 9
Fear factor: 8
Trippiness of neon sign: 10

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Don’t even bother trying to slip that contraband jar of peanut butter into your backpack. Outside food and drinks are prohibited at Coachella.
And the options at the cash-only food tents tend to be pretty limited. That doesn’t mean you have to spend three days surviving only on kettle corn and ecstacy. The Coachella Valley is home to some excellent eats. If you do manage to escape the festival, here are some places to go take a breather and regain your strength:


WHERE TO EAT ON THE WAY THERE :

THE WHEEL INN

The Wheel Inn in Cabazon has always been easy to find because of Claude Bell’s giant dinosaurs, which are barely visible from the highway these days. There is something slightly surreal about the Wheel Inn. Something even beyond the riotous decor, 1960’s glowing orb lights and overwhelming profusion of steer horns. But the hostess and waitresses are welcoming and friendly (even in their new Flintstones-inspired uniforms). The breakfasts and burgers are the best in town. Some of the food, like the turkey dinner, can be a little too cafeteria-ish. But the chicken fried steak and peanut-butter pie will make you change your name to Bubba. Buy a trucker CD in the gift shop next door to listen to for the rest of the drive.

50900 Seminole Drive, Cabazon, CA 92230 (951) 849-7012
Open 24-hours.

SPANKY’S CHICKS & RIBS BBQ

Right next door to the Wheel Inn, the big smoking BBQ out back might draw you over. The employees are all perky, wholesome teen girls, which is somehow comforting. The owners may be from New York City, but they can do Texas ‘que with the best of them. The brisket is moist and tender, slathered in a sweet BBQ sauce, and the rib-tips fall right off the bone.

50920 Seminole Road, Cabazon, CA 92230 (951) 922-3999
Open 12noon – 9pm. Closed Mondays and Tuesdays.

FARMER BOY’S

Farmer Boy’s off the Milliken exit in Ontario is just one of a chain of fast-food joints with gigantic, juicy burgers and huge wheels of onion rings. The explosion of country charm is a bit much for me. But I have been a little freaked out by small towns ever since I saw 200 Maniacs.

54 S. Milliken Ave., Ontario, CA 91761 (909) 390-7160

WHERE TO EAT WITH THE A&R GUY:


CUISTOT

Cuistot feels like a restaurant that was just plucked out of the French countryside and dropped right into the middle of the desert. Service is friendly and the sommelier is the best in town. Ask him if they have anything from the Westley winery in Oregon. Heck, ask him to bring the whole bottle. Start with the foie gras with caramelized apples, then order the short ribs, beef chops, or rabbit, all served in intense wine reductions. Go nuts – it’s on the record company’s dime, right?

73-111 El Paseo, Palm Desert CA 92260 (760) 340-1000
Open for lunch 11:30am – 2:30pm. Open for dinner 6pm – 9:30pm

LG’s PRIME STEAKHOUSE

From the moment you enter their ceiling-high wooden doors, you are transported into a world of old-school charm. The servers are solicitous yet unobtrusive. Sink into a giant, padded booth, order an aged filet and find out why LG’s is in the Top Ten Hall of Fame of Steakhouses.

Palm Springs: 255 South Palm Canyon, Palm Springs 92292 (760) 416-1779
Dinner only. 5pm -9:45pm
La Quinta: 78525 Highway 111, Suite 100 La Quinta, CA 92253 (760) 771-9911
Dinner only 5:30pm – 9:45pm
Palm Desert: 74-225 Highway 111, Palm Desert, CA 92260 (760) 779-9799Dinner only 5:30pm – 9:45pm

LE VALLAURIS

This is the ultimate romantic restaurant, with a magical patio filled with twinkling lights. High prices and occasionally snobby waiters make me hesitant to recommend it, but the ambiance and the food may be worth it. Some dishes are a little too experimental. Stick with the roasted meats and crème brulee. Located in a residential area just off the main drag, it can be a little hard to spot. Watch for the twinkling lights on your left.

385 West Tahquitz Canyon Way, Palm Springs, CA 92262 (760) 325-7602
Lunch 11:30am – 2:30pm Dinner 5pm – 10pm

WHERE TO EAT WHILE YOU’RE WAITING FOR THE ROYALTY CHECK TO COME IN:

TYLER’S BURGERS

Located in the center of the Palm shopping center, the bustling, cheerful buzz of Tyler’s immediately puts you at ease. Cooks flip burgers, customers shout orders, and the milkshake machine whirrs away happily. The burgers are thick and juicy, and you can order them topped with grilled onions. Go for two sliders instead of one burger. They are thicker. And cuter. Try their famous coleslaw instead of the fries. After all that partying, you can probably use the Vitamin C.

149 S. Indian Canyon Dr. Palm Springs, CA 92262 (760) 325-2990
Lunch only. Closed Sundays.

CRAZY BONES

They do Memphis, Texas, and St Louis-style BBQ, among others. The restaurant is one of several owned by the Kaiser family so it’s kind of corporate. Crazy Bone’s dining room and patio are spacious and comfortable, teetering between casual and elegant. The catfish fingers and shrimp po’boy are straight out of New Orleans. The St Louis ribs, which are like giant baby backs, blow the rest of the BBQ dishes away.

262 South Palm Canyon Drive, Palm Springs, CA 92262 (760) 325-5200
Dinner only starting at 5pm.

SHERMAN’S DELI

Voted the #1 deli in the Coachella Valley, Sherman’s is known for its breakfasts and old-fashioned Jewish deli food. For breakfast, try one of the omelets, which are served unfolded, pancake-style. For lunch, a sandwich piled high with pastrami or corned beef will give you the protein boost you need to rock out for the rest of the day.

Palm Springs: 401 East Tahquitz Canyon Way Palm Springs, CA 92262 (760) 325-1199
Palm Desert: 73-161 Country Club Dr. Monterrey, CA 92262 (760) 568-1350
Both locations Open 7am – 7pm

WHERE TO EAT IF ALL OF THESE PICTURES OF MEAT ARE TOTALLY FREAKING YOU OUT:

NATIVE FOODS

Serving a variety of vegan and vegetarian pizzas, rice bowls, snacks, and desserts, Native Foods is appealing as well as environmentally friendly. The “Handhelds” look especially exciting, with whimsical names like “Mad Cowboy”, “Rockin’ Moroccan”, and “Hail Seitan” (OK, I made that last one up).

Palm Springs: Smoke Tree Village 1775 E. Palm Canyon Drive Palm Springs, CA 92264 (760) 416-0070
11am – 9:30pm. Closed Sundays.
Palm Desert: 73-890 El Paseo
Palm Desert, CA 92260 (760) 836-939611am – 9:30pm. Closed Sundays.

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For main dishes, we ordered the picada and sobrebarriga. The picada is definitely a trip. It is a good thing to order if you are a curious diner, and want to try a little bit of everything. Even the “mini” size is more than one person can eat. Bits of steak, chorizo, blood sausage, new potatoes, deep-fried yucca, fried plaintain chips, chiccharones and arepa are all just tossed together on the plate without any sauce or rice to bind them. The blood sausage was crumbly with bits of rice and reminded me of haggis. Torn bits of arepa, which is similar to a thick corn tortilla, were strewn around the dish. The sobrebarriga is like a Colombian pot roast in a mild sauce, warm and nurturing, like something your mother would serve.

Some of the desserts are a walk on the wild side. Natilla con Arequipe (translated as “Milk Skin with Colombian Sweet”), turned out to be an evaporated milk-based dessert with bits of coconut that reminded me of Indian sweets. The “Columbian sweet” was dulce de leche. It was interesting, but I would probably go with the safer flan or rice pudding next time. Because there will definitely be a next time.

La Maria 10516 Victory Blvd. North Hollywood, CA 91606 (818) 755-8811

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My blog is starting to get listed on other sites, and even getting nominated for an award (Thanks!!!). So I am occasionally being asked to describe what this blog is like. To answer that question, I have devised this handy pie chart:

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