Two Burlingtonians With Beards

M & I made a quick trip to Vermont back in April to do some eating, drinking, and hiking, not necessarily in that order. We only made one big reservation, and, really, it wasn't that big. It was at the highly rated, but friendly and informal Bluebird Tavern. How highly rated? Well, among other things, it was one of about 30 semifinalists for a 2010 James Beard Award for Best New Restaurant (it and roughly 28 of the other semifinalists lost out to Marea of New York City).

Little did we know that we would end up visiting two 2010 James Beard Award nominees (and one winner) in two days...

fig. a: detail, menu

#1: Bluebird Tavern

Burlington's Bluebird Tavern is a self-proclaimed gastropub perched above the Winooski River that, like many of Vermont's finest restaurants, specializes in all things local and sustainable and is an active member of the fantastic Vermont Fresh Network. I mean, just look at all this list of farms, dairies, orchards, and other producers that the Bluebird is teamed up with. Anyway, just having the goods isn't enough--you've gotta know what to do with it, right? And Bluebird Tavern's definitely got some firepower in the kitchen.

Highlights included some utterly heavenly ricotta gnudi with brown butter and ramps (our first of the season!) and a very tasty, very refreshing julienned kohlrabi salad with walnuts, bitter greens, and "mountain cheese." Our mains weren't nearly as mind-blowing, but Michelle had a homemade spaghetti 'a la chitarra' dish that came dressed with some excellent veal meatballs, and my roasted chicken was a plump, juicy thing of beauty that was served on a mushroom & bread salad with a liver vinaigrette--too bad the salad was a little overdressed, because the chicken was the best we've tasted since we shopped at Fleisher's.

One last thing about Bluebird Tavern that you should know: Tuesdays at the Bluebird Tavern are Tavern Tuesdays, and that means casual dining and bargain prices. You see, in addition to their normal menu items, the kitchen adds a trio of items for the low, low price of $10: house-ground double burgers with Vermont blue cheese, a boudin blanc plate with homemade sauerkraut, and Maine mussels with bacon, crème fraîche, and apple cider, all of them served with fresh-cut fries, all of them an exceptional deal.

Oh, yeah: Bluebird's got a great selection of wines and beers, and they only brew Vermont Artisan Coffee.

Bluebird Tavern, 317 Riverside Ave., Burlington, VT, (802) 540-1786

fig. b: burger, dog, float, frys

#2: Al's French Frys

Speaking of fresh-cut fries...

I'd read about Al's when I was prepping for this trip back in early April. Little did we know that our South Burlington hotel would be situated about 50 feet from Al's and their famous french frys.

Things have changed a little since Al's first started up in the 1940s. Back then Al and Genevieve Rusterholz ran the place out of a hut with a window counter and no inside seating--"a small hut," apparently. These days, Al's has kind of a throwback diner look to it--definitely not overwrought and obnoxious like those ersatz '40s and '50s "diners" that you see just about everywhere these days, but they do pipe a soundtrack of vintage rock 'n' roll into the parking lot.

The thing that hasn't changed is the quality of Al's frys. These are truly legendary french frys, with phenomenal texture, a rich color, and a deep potato flavor--quite possibly the best we've had since we paid a visit to Frit Flagey in Brussels back in '08. Even better, they sell them in handy pint and quart (!) sizes. (Trust me, unless you've got a fitting planned for later in the day, you're going to want to go with the quart. And if you do have a fitting planned for later in the day, you might want to cancel and reschedule.) And there's more to Al's than just frys. They serve up brilliant, classic diner-style burgers, beautiful hot dogs with crispy skins that have just the right pop to them, some awfully tasty soft-serve ice cream, and a wide range of soda fountain beverages.

For all these reasons, and their quirky spelling of "fries," Al's was officially inducted into the America's Classics pantheon by the James Beard Foundation last week, and we salute them.

Al's French Frys, 1251 Williston Rd., South Burlington, VT, (802) 862-9203

aj

Nordic Rules

If you're the kind of person who follows such things, you probably already know that San Pellegrino's World's 50 Best Restaurants™ list was announced recently, and that the #1 spot went to Copenhagen's Noma, which moved up two slots from #3, leapfrogging both El Bulli and The Fat Duck.*

fig. a: time & space & Nordic cuisine

Now, if you're a regular reader of "...an endless banquet," you may remember that we ran a couple of posts about Noma and our experiments with chef René Redzepi's Nordic Cuisine back in 2008 (pt. 1 and pt. 2).

You're not the only one.

You wouldn't believe the number of times we've been contacted over the past two years by people who were desperate to get their hands on a copy of Noma: Nordic Cuisine and willing to pay top dollar to purchase ours. Thing is, we don't actually own a copy--never have. We had one on long-term loan from a good friend (the kind of friend who lets you borrow an extremely rare, extremely expensive cookbook for 6-12 months at a time [sometimes more than once!]). And even if we did, we certainly wouldn't sell it. No, not even to you.

Anyway, we've gotten a lot of requests. And, not surprisingly, with Noma's recent coronation having driven its prestige to dizzying new heights, over the last couple of weeks we've gotten a whole lot more.

We've also had people who, unable to get their hands on Noma: Nordic Cuisine, but eager to give Redzepi's cuisine a whirl, have fallen back on some of our featured recipes. Few have been as public about it as Christopher Hirst, however. Hirst wrote a snarky little piece in The Independent on the weekend called "The Day I Cooked Like the Best Restaurant in the World" that relied heavily on AEB and another online source.

I think this is the very first time AEB has ever been referred to as a "transformative strainer."** Hopefully, it's also the last. Then again, "the blog The Independent called a 'transformative strainer'!," has a pretty nice ring to it.

Luckily for all you Nomavores out there, it looks as though a new Noma book is on the horizon. Hirst reports that a book called Noma: Time & Space in Nordic Cuisine will be published in the UK in September. Sure enough, Amazon.com & Amazon.ca are showing the same book (published by Phaidon) slated to be released on September 29, 2010.

Will Noma: Time & Space in Nordic Cuisine help inspire a nouvelle cuisine nordique on this side of the Atlantic? One can only hope.

aj

* If you're Canadian and you follow such things, you probably already know that Canada didn't exactly "own the podium" this time around--not a single Canadian restaurant made the top 50, although two Canuck restaurants made the top 100.

** In addition to having gotten frustrated with some of the intricacies (and absurdities) of Redzepi's recipes, Hirst was evidently skeptical about some of our adaptations.

The one major liberty we took in our "Noma 2: Manic Cuisine" post was fully documented at the time: not having any "balsamic plum vinegar" on hand when we made a variation on Redzepi's Cured Brisket of Pork recipe, we improvised a concoction of balsamic vinegar and ume plum vinegar that we thought might simulate the flavors of the original. Of course, we've never had the pleasure of trying balsamic plum vinegar, so we're not sure if we succeeded, but we can tell you that the end result was certifiably delicious. The other offending ingredient--toasted peanut oil--did appear in the original Noma recipe, oddly enough. We tried the same preparation with toasted sesame oil and it tasted great too, so we offered that as a possible substitute.

Oh, yeah: Hirst wasn't crazy about our marriage of Redzepi's spice bread and his truffled poached egg, a combo that doesn't appear in Noma: Nordic Cuisine, but is based on elements that do. Hilariously, the photograph that accompanied Hirst's article was one of him fussing with this "complete bugger" of a preparation.

Kazu!

fig. a: ramen!

fig. b: Etta!

My thoughts exactly, Etta.

Montreal has been in desperate need of a quality izakaya for years. Montreal's also been in desperate need of good ramen for years. Now, in the cozy confines of Kazu, we have both.

fig. c: Japanes styl!

As you can see, our friends at Kazu are very much open for business. And, as you can see, Kazu touts itself as a "Japanes styl Bar" with an izakaya menu. That menu is extensive for dinner, short and sweet for lunch. A recent lunchtime selection included everything from a tuna & salmon rice bowl, to a 48-hour pork bowl, both of them substantial, both of them fresh and tasty. At $9, the pork bowl was a particularly generous portion, but it left me thinking that I'd be all too happy to fork over $10-$12 if they'd include a poached egg. That would push the dish from the exceptional to the ethereal.

The other major offering was the superlative ramen bowl featured up top. The pork belly was buttery, the broth simple and satisfying, and the noodles were homemade (!). Kazu's ramen wasn't the most adventurous bowl of ramen I've ever had--it was more along the lines of "classic"--but it was a bowl of ramen I could imagine becoming a serious habit.

And if all that wasn't enough, Kazu makes its own soft-serve ice cream. Yes!

One of my fellow luncheoners had closed down the joint the night before at 9:30 pm-10:00 pm and was back again by 12:30 pm the next day. After my meal, I fully understood why. Later that day, I saw the same fellow luncheoner cycling with abandon towards centre-ville. "Let me guess: you're going back to Kazu?", I cried, as he flew by. When he slammed on the brakes and came back to talk to me, he claimed that he was actually heading somewhere else, to a certain dumpling specialist in the Concordia ghetto, but I'm pretty sure that if I'd followed him, he would have led me to Kazu. And, again, I'd fully understand why...

fig. d: specials!

Some of us have been waiting for Kazu for a long, long time.

Kazu, 1862 Ste. Catherine W., 937-2333

aj

PS--Helpful hint: taking a friend to Kazu for lunch makes for an awesome birthday gift.

Chang on the Run

fig. a: Chasing the Dragon*

Let's hear it for Southern cuisine!

One of the best pieces of food writing I've read in a while, by one of the best in the biz on one of the best (and most elusive) in the biz:

Todd Kliman on Peter Chang in the Oxford American's 2010 Southern Food Issue, edited by John T. Edge.

aj

* photo by Dan Chung

Mexican Standoff

I'm just going to go ahead and throw down...













With all due respect to this city's full-fledged Mexican restaurants, Montreal's best tacos are currently being served...

a) in some hole-in-the-wall in the Little Italy-Rosemont-Petite Patrie axis?

b) in the back of a Latino grocery store in the Plateau?

c) in some flashy Nuevo Latino restaurant in the Downtown core?

d) at Carlo's & Pepe's?

No. Nope. Nada. None of the above.

They're being served out of a place that should be familiar to many of you longtime readers, and a place where you might least expect them: McKiernan. That's right, McKiernan.

Okay, it's possible that there is a Mexican place hidden somewhere in deepest, darkest Montreal that's serving tacos that can compete with the finest purveyors from across the North American continent (with the multicultural explosion of creativity that Food & Wine has labeled "Taco World")--hell, I suppose it's possible that there's also a ghost taco truck making its way across the cityscape under darkness of night and operating in full contravention of the city's perverse anti-street food bylaws--but, if so, we've yet to uncover these Mexican treasures. All I can tell you is that by far and away the best tacos that we've had here in Montreal in a very long time (outside of our AEB test kitchen, that is) were served to us by our friend Marc-André at McKiernan. We were hoping for shrimp, or maybe even snow crab--it being the season for both--but what we got was a selection of the traditional and the patently non-traditional that just blew us away. Perfectly braised beef tongue (tacos de lengua) & exquisite duck confit (tacos de canard confit). Served on homemade corn tortillas (!). Topped with roasted tomato salsa, julienned radishes, and cilantro. Accompanied with limes, refried black beans, and a limited, but tasty selection of Valentina hot sauces ("hot" & "extra hot").

They've always got a trick or two up their sleeves, but we didn't exactly go to McKiernan looking for tacos. Luckily, they found us.

Casa McKiernan, 2485 Nuestra Señora O., 759-6677

Three Great Tastes That Taste Great Together

fig. a: pretty on pink

When a certain someone requested a Smith Island Cake for a certain special occasion, Michelle rolled up her sleeves. She consulted a number of recipes, including one she found on Saveur.com, and what she found was that it was not uncommon to build Smith Island Cakes out of thin layers of cake-mix cake. Now Michelle being Michelle, she decided to try to create her own yellow cake from scratch because, well... Just because.*

But the problem with making your own yellow cake is that it's tough to create one that's capable of being baked in a thin layer and then moved. All those fancy ingredients in a box of Duncan Hines mix (emulsifiers, etc.) give cake-mix cake properties that are difficult to duplicate without being a molecular gastronomist. What Michelle determined was that it would take a yellow cake batter that was something like pancake batter to get the right architecture.

In the end, however, Michelle decided that it was a whole lot easier and not at all inauthentic to fall back on the expertise of Duncan Hines and the food empire he brought into being. In the end, Michelle followed Saveur's recipe (which is based on a recipe from Smith Island native Mary Ada Marshall) to a T.

Well, almost.

Saveur's recipe calls for the cake to be constructed out of eight layers--a nice even number. Traditional Smith Island Cakes have been known to have been constructed out of twelve layers or more. Michelle being Michelle, she built hers out of nine. Nine fun-loving layers of cake. Count 'em. She also used really good cocoa. On its own, Michelle's three-flavor, nine-layer Smith Island Cake was an out-and-out sensation. With the addition of a scoop of vanilla ice cream, it got pushed into the fourth dimension.

So what exactly is Smith Island Cake? Well, in case you haven't figured it out, it's a tall, traditional, Southern layer cake that's composed of ultra-thin layers of cake (not unlike a torte) and that hails from Smith Island, Maryland. Icings and fillings can vary, but many feature chocolate icing and a combination of chocolate and peanuts as the filling (hence the Reese's peanut butter cups). Smith Island is located in the middle of the Chesapeake Bay, and it's famous for its cake--in fact, Smith Island Cake became Maryland's state cake (!) just a couple of years ago--but it's also famous for its dialect. Smith Island was settled in the seventeenth century, but existed in relative isolation well into the twentieth century. More regular contact with the mainland has eroded Smith Island's rather distinct culture, but a dialect with strong roots in seventeenth-century English is still spoken there.

You could just click on the link above to access Saveur.com's original recipe, but with Carpal Tunnel Syndrome rampant, we decided to save you any unnecessary clicking.

Smith Island Cake

8 large Reese's peanut butter cups, frozen
nonstick cooking spray
1/4 cup flour
1 x 18 1/4-oz. box yellow cake mix, preferably Duncan Hines
2 cups plus 3 tbsp. evaporated milk
16 tbsp. butter, softened
1 tsp. vanilla extract
1/2 tsp. salt
4 eggs
6 cups confectioners' sugar
1/4 cup unsweetened cocoa

Pulse 4 peanut butter cups in a food processor into small chunks; transfer to a bowl. Pulse remaining peanut butter cups into a fine powder; transfer to another bowl. Chill both until ready to use.

Heat oven to 350°. Grease four 8" round cake pans with cooking spray, dust with half the flour, and knock out any excess. Set aside. Put cake mix, 1 1/2 cups evaporated milk, half the butter, vanilla, salt, eggs, and 1/3 cup water into a large bowl; beat with an electric mixer until light and fluffy, 10–12 minutes. Divide half the batter between prepared cake pans. Set remaining batter aside. Using the back of a spoon, spread out batter so that it covers the bottom of each pan, making it slightly thicker around the edges than in the middle. Bake until cooked through and golden around edges, 12–14 minutes. Set aside to let cool slightly, then loosen cake layers with a knife and invert onto cooling racks. Wash and dry cake pans. Repeat process a second time with cooking spray and remaining flour and batter.

When all 8 cake layers have cooled, make the icing. Combine remaining milk, sugar, and cocoa in a medium pot; stir well, then add remaining butter. Cook over medium heat, stirring constantly, until butter is melted and icing is shiny, 4–5 minutes. Let cool for 5 minutes. Stir well.

Spread a cake layer with about 1/4 cup of icing; sprinkle with about 1 tbsp. powdered peanut butter cups. Top with another cake layer and repeat process to make 8 layers in all. Frost outside of cake with remaining icing; sprinkle top with peanut butter cup chunks. Let sit for 2–3 hours before serving. The cake can be stored for up to a week refrigerated in an airtight container.

Makes one beautiful 8" Smith Island Cake.

aj

* The Saveur recipe, like many others, also called for the use of Reese's peanut butter cups. As far as I know, Michelle didn't attempt to make those from scratch, but don't push her...

Top Ten #34

1. birthday burger brunch, complete with Smith Island Cake

2. Momofuku-inspired birthday bonanza, complete with cardamom-pistachio-quince cake and lots of sake

3. eating your way across L.A.





4. Townes Van Zandt, s/t + Townes Van Zandt, In the Beginning...

5. Of Time and the City, dir. Terence Davies

6. Rabelais, Portland, ME



7. Joanna Newsom, Have One on Me

8. "Collection: MOCA's First 30 Years," Museum of Contemporary Art, Los Angeles

9. Wolf Parade + Contrived, W.W. Boyce Farmers' Market, Fredericton, NB

10. Thomas Frank, The Wrecking Crew

aj

Portland, ME in Brief

If you're looking for a definitive account of Portland, Maine, a city that's been labeled "one of America's foodiest cities," "a foodie's paradise," and "America's Foodiest Small Town 2009," this ain't it.

Not for lack of desire, or anything. It's just that three hours is hardly enough time to get the lay of the land, let alone the lowdown on the food scene. That said, three hours is long enough to have breakfast, check out a bookstore, and pick up a snack, so, for what it's worth...

fig. a: inside Rabelais

I'd read good things about Rabelais, "fine books on food & drink," but I still wasn't prepared for just how excellent this bookstore is. I wouldn't draw exact comparisons between Rabelais and New York's Kitchen Arts & Letters, or Bonnie Slotnick Cookbooks and Joanne Hendricks, but these guys are definitely in the same league. Their collection leans heavily towards the second-hand and the antiquarian, but they also carry a well-chosen selection of new and recent releases. And they're friendly, too. Really friendly. I spent a good, long while perusing Rabelais' shelves and their piles of new arrivals, and had a nice conversation with the proprietor about dessert books, reissues and reprints, and food art (prompted by a fascinating and beautiful piece of Haitian folk art on raising hogs that Rabelais has on display). I also managed to find a stack of goodies for a certain special someone who was just about to celebrate her birthday.*

fig. b: corned beef hash & eggs @ Becky's

Becky's Diner is a neighborhood diner that's located on Portland's waterfront (on Hobson's Wharf, to be exact), and that specializes in fresh seafood. They also make some pretty mean breakfasts, including the eggs & corned beef hash combo you see pictured above. I was pleased when they offered me an English muffin as one of my toast options, and I was even happier when my server asked me whether I wanted that English muffin toasted or grilled on their skillet. I chose the latter option, of course.

File under "When in Rome": when I asked for hot sauce to go with my breakfast, one of the options that was presented to me was a local variety of hot sauce: Captain Mowatt's Canceaux Sauce. Spicy and sweet, Captain Mowatt's special blend was like a Northeastern sriracha sauce, but with a lot more body to it. Win-win-win: delicious on my eggs, delicious on my potatoes, and delicious on my corned beef hash, too.

fig. c: whoopie!

Michelle tells me that whoopie pies are the new cupcakes. I'm not 100% sure what she means by that (is Manhattan now littered with boutiquey whoopie pie specialists? are whoopie pies on the verge of sweeping over Montreal?). Whatever the case, at the time that I walked into Two Fat Cats Bakery looking for a simple snack to hit the road with, I had no idea that whoopie pies were trendy. I'd heard of whoopie pies before, of course--I knew they had a following that stretched from the Mid-Atlantic to the Northeast--but I certainly wasn't on the hunt for one. When I saw that chocolate cake and marshmallow sandwich staring back at me, however, I knew I'd found what I was looking for. Tasted great with my cup of coffee, gave me a heavy-duty sugar buzz that lasted for the next 5 hours, and it made for a much more manageable roadfood than, say, a cupcake or a muffin.

Not that I needed any more sugar or chocolate in my system, but Two Fat Cats makes a pretty good chocolate chip cookie, too.

Rabelais, 86 Middle Street, Portland, ME, (207) 774-1044

Becky's Diner, 390 Commercial Street, Portland, ME, (207) 773-7070

Two Fat Cats, 47 India Street, Portland, ME, (207) 347-5144

aj

* Among other treasures:

C. Anne Wilson's The Book of Marmalade: Its Antecedents, its History, and its Role in the World Today...

fig. d: The Book of Marmalade 1

Check out the spine!

fig. e: The Book of Marmalade 2

St. Martin's/Marek!

Escape to L.A., rev. ed.

fig. a: L.A. by night

It took about 18 hours, but, suddenly, there I was, in Downtown L.A.

fig. b: continental divide

I'd had a particularly scenic transcontinental flight, one that provided stunning views of the Rockies, and an equally stunning sunset descent over L.A. county and into LAX.

fig. c: Standing Rib, 1962

I didn't fully realize it at the time, but a print by Roy Lichtenstein that I saw in the Museum of Contemporary Art's 30-year retrospective on my first day in L.A. proved to be emblematic, as you'll see.

fig. d: Cole's by night

For my very first meal, I walked from my hotel on South Grand to Cole's on 6th to have my very first authentic L.A. French Dip sandwich. Cole's is one of the two Downtown L.A. establishments that claims to have invented the French Dip sandwich over a century ago now, back in 1908.

fig. e: Cole's by Cole's

Cole's is definitely the hipper of the two, and the joint was jumping when I arrived: the stereo was cranked up, the drinks were flowing, and the crowd was young and happening. Despite their insistence that the City of Los Angeles authenticated their claim to being the "originators of the French dip" back in the 1970s, Cole's definitely comes across as the challenger at the moment. This isn't a bad thing. It's made them hungrier to assert themselves. So the place was given a loving restoration a few years ago. And they also picked up an executive chef. But, more importantly, it's made them very assertive with their menu. Their house mustard is a potent, horseradish-laced, "Atomic" concoction. Their pickles are homemade, half-sour, and chili-laced--not for the faint of heart. They, too, have been given the (well-deserved) "Atomic" moniker. Their beef French dip sandwich is a hefty, freshly carved number that comes with the jus served demurely on the side. In other words, here you dip the sandwich yourself, according to your whims. Beer selection is good, with three Germans (Bitburger, Spaten, and Franziskaner) and Anchor Steam (on tap) being among the highlights. The bar is an early-20th-century classic and it's fully loaded to boot.

fig. f: neon market

The Grand Central Market has been a Downtown L.A. institution for roughly 90 years now. My camera might have been attracted to the China Cafe and its iconic, Edward Hopper-esque

CHOP SUEY
CHOW MEIN

sign, but I was on the prowl for tacos--fish tacos, quite specifically--so I made a beeline to Maria's Fresh Seafood. The majority of my compadres were having seafood caldos, and they looked and smelled delicious, but I went with the fish taco special: two fish tacos, salad, salsa, crema, beans, and rice, all for a fiver. So simple, so satisfying, so good.

fig. g: all aboard!

Later that day was the splurge of the trip: dinner for three at the Pacific Dining Car. At 89 years old, the Pacific Dining Car is another venerable L.A. institution. The Pacific Dining Car has a reputation for being one of the city's finest steakhouses, but it's also known for its main dining room, which simulates the interior of an early-20th-century railway dining car, as well as its associations with the writer James Ellroy. The Pacific Dining Car is something of an anomaly among high-class restaurants: it's open 24 hours a day, 365 days a year, and it has a special late-night menu that's made it popular with the city's nighthawks. Dinner consisting of a 16-ounce ribeye (cooked a perfect medium-rare), creamed spinach, a salad, a nice bottle of wine, and some impeccable service was pricey, but, man, did it ever hit the spot. The only disappointment: no sign of the "demon dog of American crime fiction."

fig. h: the big and the small 1

Bottega Louie is an oddly named restaurant with a choice Downtown location, a fancy Italian pizza oven, a full-size, open-format kitchen, an open-format pastry kitchen, a bar/café area, a massive, sprawling floor plan, towering 50-foot ceilings, and a veritable army of waitstaff. How they've managed to survive the Great Recession, I have no idea. Must have something to do with their appealing menu, because Bottega Louie is packing 'em in. I was so overwhelmed by the immensity of the operation, that the only photograph I took was of the miniature Tabasco sauce bottle that came with my brunch.

The brunch menu had so many tantalizing options that I actually had a hard time making a selection. I ended up settling on the scrambled eggs with burrata, pancetta, caramelized cippolini onions, and oyster mushrooms, and I was happy I did.

fig. i: étude en jaune

Bottega Louie's pastry division specializes in macarons. Our favorite was the lemon, which also made for a good photograph.

fig. j: Park's by Park's

Between Saveur's Los Angeles issue and my friend MS's 411, I had more Koreatown tips than I knew what to do with. Never did get around for going for KFC (Korean fried chicken), but I did make it out for Korean BBQ with a gang of fellow travelers. We could see and smell all kinds of delicacies as we waited to be seated. (Actually, the wonderful aromas began from the moment we got out of our taxi.) But Park's marbled short ribs looked particularly tantalizing and came highly recommended. In addition to the short ribs, we ordered marinated shrimp and bulgogi. Later, I was kicking myself for not ordering the pork belly, which got raves in Saveur. There was a moment there, right after we ordered, when we panicked, thinking we needed to order some vegetables to go along with all that meat. Then I realized, this is a Korean BBQ restaurant--the condiments are coming. In fact, the folks at Park's covered our table with more condiments than I've ever seen. And seconds later the first of our mains--the short ribs--were sizzling away on our tables built-in grill. From the moment we wrapped our first lettuce leaves and rice wrappers around those tender morsels of meat smothered in Korean pickles of all sorts, we were hooked.

fig. k: orange, bowl

Coming from the relative deprivation of Canada in late-winter, the Hollywood Farmers' Market was a vision of plenitude that I found a bit overwhelming. Just the citrus alone was more than I could handle. All those varieties of oranges, tangerines, grapefruit, and lemons, all ripe and sweet and bursting with flavor. The daisy tangerines, in particular, tasted like nectar. Then there were the nuts--pistachios and almonds, in particular. And the dried fruit, including Mission figs the likes of which I'd never had before. And then there was all the stuff I couldn't even bear to look at--fruits, vegetables, herbs, cheeses, etc.--seeing as I was going to be back on a plane 12 hours later. What I did take advantage of were the tamales with green chiles, ricotta, and queso, and a rich, expertly made macchiato from Cafécito Organico, who have a shop in Silver Lake, but who go to the trouble of setting up an espresso machine on wheels, as it were, at the market. Ah, California!

fig. l: showtime!

Buzzing with vitamin C and high on caffeine, I made my way into Hollywood. The L.A. Marathon was on and the tail end of the pack was making its way down Hollywood Boulevard, so the streets were closed off to anything but pedestrian traffic.

fig. m: transference

I checked out a few Hollywood pilgrimage points, like the Egyptian/American Cinémathèque and Musso & Frank's Grill, and when I got to Grauman's Chinese Theater I witnessed a peculiar act of transference: a man was posing for a photograph in the Forecourt of the Stars, his hand placed carefully in Al Pacino's handprint.

fig. n: burger by Umami Burger

A couple of hours later, I'd made my way back to Space 15Twenty, adjacent to the Hollywood Farmer's Market, so that I could experience my very first Umami Burger. I considered having the signature Umami Burger, with its famed "umami x 6" flavor explosion, and I contemplated the SoCal Burger, with butter lettuce, oven-dried tomato spread, house-made American cheese, and caramelized, but ultimately I went with the Hatch Burger, which marries 4 different types of roasted green chiles with UB's house cheese. I'm happy to say that Umami Burger's Hatch Burger lived up to all expectations (and with all the hype surrounding UB these days, expectations were high). The patty was gigantic, tender, barely holding together, nice and rare, and juicy as all get-out. The bun was simple, but fresh, toasted, and tasty, and perfectly capable of holding the contents together. The toppings were dreamy. I ate the whole thing in about 32.3 seconds, and that was only because I made a conscious effort to "take my time." I had to restrain myself from ordering a second burger for dessert.

fig. o: the big and the small 2

Just when you thought I couldn't possibly eat any more beef on a 3-day furlough, I closed out my all-too-brief culinary tour of Los Angeles with a trip to Philippe's to try out their interpretation of the French Dip sandwich. Yes, Philippe's is the other Downtown L.A. establishment that claims to have invented the French Dip or French-dipped sandwich back in 1908, the place the folks at Cole's refer to as "that other downtown sandwich shop." Philippe's functions counter-style, they have sawdust on the floor, they house a satellite exhibit of the Los Angeles Railroad Heritage Foundation in their back room, and they serve their sandwiches pre-dipped (to order). The vibe is both more family-friendly and more old-school than Cole's; it's not nearly as hip. Philippe's mustard may not be "atomic," but, by God, it too is "hot... but good!" And their French-dipped beef sandwich was delicious--a little messier than their competitor's, perhaps, but it didn't last long enough to become an issue. I'm not one to waffle when it comes to these kinds of debates--I tend to have strong opinions about such things--but, I have to say: I liked them both, they both had their charms. And, to be honest, I don't really care who the true originator is. I'm not an Angeleno, so I'm not all that invested in the issue. I'm just glad they're both still around, still a vital part of L.A.'s downtown dining scene over 100 years after they first opened their doors.

I really didn't intend for my Escape to L.A. to turn into a 3-day beef binge (with just a couple brief interludes), but sometimes you just gotta go with the flow. Plus, maybe this is could be the beginning of a themed series on L.A. Here's hoping. Think of the possibilities: L.A. Pork, L.A. Fish, L.A. Vegetables, L.A. Bread...

Addendum:

fig. p: chocoholics, report!

If you're in Los Angeles in the next little while, do make a point of visiting the Museum of Contemporary Art's phenomenally rich and varied "Collection: MOCA's First 30 Years." Not only will you get to see Lichtenstein's Standing Rib, alongside works by Warhol, Arbus, Frank, Stella, Levitt, Rauschenberg, Matta-Clark, Goldin, Judd, Smithson, Baltz, Berman, and many, many others, but you'll have the opportunity to immerse yourself in the considerable sensorial pleasures of Ed Ruscha's Chocolate Room (yes, that's actual chocolate lining the walls).

fig. q: the gang's all here!

And if you're already Downtown, and you're something of a film buff, you might want to pop in to the Biltmore Hotel to visit their gallery of photographs documenting the many Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences awards ceremonies that were held there between the early 1930s and the early 1940s.

Cole's, 118 East 6th Street, Los Angeles (Downtown), (213) 622-4090

Maria's Fresh Seafood, Grand Central Market, 317 S. Broadway, Los Angeles (Downtown), (213) 624-2378

Pacific Dining Car, 1310 West 6th Street, Los Angeles (Downtown), (213) 483-6000

Bottega Louie, 700 South Grand Avenue, Los Angeles (Downtown), (213) 802-1470

Park's BBQ, 955 South Vermont Avenue, Los Angeles (Koreatown), (213) 380-1717

Hollywood Farmers' Market, Ivar & Selma Avenue, Los Angeles (Hollywood), (323) 463-3171

Umami Burger, 1520 North Cahuenga Blvd., Los Angeles (Hollywood), (323) 469-3100 [with other locations on South LaBrea and on Hollywood Blvd.]

Philippe's, a.k.a. Philippe The Original, 1001 North Alameda St., Los Angeles (Downtown), (213) 628-3781

aj

New York Winterlude 3

Sadly, day 3 of New York Winterlude 2009 was only a half day. For a good reason, though. We had plans to make it to the Catskills by mid-afternoon, so that we could relax and have dinner and an overnight with friends in the country. So we got up early, picked up our car, and made our way down to Greenwich Village.

There we paid quick visits to two Greenwich Village classics for the very first time. Both had been part of our constellation of New York pilgrimage destinations for years, but "our constellation of New York pilgrimage destinations" looks a little like the Milky Way--it could keep us busy for years. Plus, it's always changing.

fig. a: two little birds

Anyway, first on our itinerary was the legendary O. Ottomanelli & Sons on Bleecker Street, a true neighborhood butcher famed for their meat-cutting prowess and the superior quality of their meats (including free-range, organic, and pastured). We were on the lookout for osso buco, and osso buco was what we found. They weren't cheap, but these were big, meaty shanks, and our butcher was all too happy to talk technique with us. We gazed longingly at O. Ottomanelli & Sons' famous aged steaks, but the only cooler we'd brought along was our Igloo Playmate, so we had to limit ourselves to those shanks.

fig. b: we know cheese!

Next stop: Murray's. We'd visited Murray's Grand Central location, but this was our very first time visiting the flagship store, and it was just as mind-blowing as we expected. The selection was unreal--including dozens of artisanal American cheeses from the mid-Atlantic and the Northeast that we'd never heard of--but even better was the service. These people knew their cheeses. These people were passionate. They also knew their pairings. And they were generous. We sampled so many cheeses, and so many wonderfully complex cheeses, that our tongues were positively tingling afterwards. We picked out a couple of New York cheeses and a heady Basque number, scribbled down some wine notes, and somehow we managed to pull ourselves away...

...to Brooklyn. There we'd decided to finish our pizza tour with a visit to a (then) recently opened pizzeria that had been highly recommended to us by some of our readers (you know who you are). Now, Motorino has since climbed to the upper echelons of New York's pizza world--hell, they even took over Una Pizza Napoletana's fabled East Village location when Anthony Mangieri decided to leave New York for sunnier climes--but at the time they were still relatively under the radar (i.e., all the hardcore NY pizzaheads had at least heard about them, Pete Wells had written a "dining brief" about them for the New York Times, but Frank Bruni had yet to put them at the top of his list of New York's best "New-Generation Pizzerias," and Sam Sifton's review was still a year away).

fig. c: mmmmotorino

We had two stunning pizzas there, including the Margherita DOC you see pictured above, and we couldn't believe our eyes when we saw their insanely generous lunchtime prix fixe menu, but what really impressed us was the single-minded determination of Motorino's chef and chief pizzaiolo, Mathieu Palombino. He was busy training a couple of new hires that day and all I'm going to say is that he knew exactly what characterized a Motorino pizza and he was absolutely unwilling to accept anything less. No wonder our pies were so damn perfect.

fig. d: sage advice

We left Brooklyn totally satisfied and utterly convinced that, if anything, New York's Pizza Revival was picking up steam, and we made our way onto the Palisades Parkway and headed north.

fig. e: winterlude's end

O. Ottomanelli & Sons, 285 Bleecker Street, New York, (212) 675-4217

Murray's Cheese, 254 Bleecker St., New York, 888.MY.CHEEZ or (212) 243-3289

Motorino, 319 Graham Avenue, Brooklyn, (718) 599-8899 & 349 East 12th Street, East Village, Manhattan, (212) 777-2644