Ritz Bites

Masa Takayama Was Here: Arado

Arado is a perfectly fine and friendly Korean style Japanese restaurant with a helpful staff, an oozingly sincere mission statement, and side room bizarrely dedicated to the oceanic world. But one major element that defined the place's first incarnation is long gone: the man who went on to become arguably the most famous sushi chef in America.



Along with delis and era-appropriate health food restaurants, modest Japanese restaurants were a staple of our hamisheh restaurant eating in late 1970s and early 80s Los Angeles. The regular rotation included Aoi on First Street (still there), Kuishimbo on Wilshire and Wilton (moved to 6th and Catalina), Feast from the East when my dad's friend ran it, and Benibasha on Olympic and Norton, with its awesome jukebox. (After we saw Grease at a Hollywood movie theater, I was thrilled to find "You're the One That I Want" included among the machine's killer choices of late 70s pop hits.)

My sister was the adventurous one when we ate out, and an unusually young raw food enthusiast. Few single-digit aged kids ordered steak tartare at Chasen's or asked their mom to bring home a dozen oysters from Phil's Phresh Fish. I stuck to the tried and true. I'd eaten more chicken teriyaki and tempura combos by age 10 than I care to count.

When a simple Japanese restaurant and sushi bar called Saba-Ya opened its doors near Kuishimbo on Wilshire and Wilton in the early 80s, our family went there a lot, in part because Alison's seemingly endless appetite for the sashimi, and friends owned a women's clothing store in the same strip mall. The sushi chef and owner was an affable Japanese gentleman who warmly welcomed us to the bar, where he'd ply my sister with his product. I wanted to want to eat those delicate slices of translucent raw fish, but in reality, I found sushi revolting. Cucumber rolls were fine, but raw tuna itself made me gag. Literally. In front of the nice sushi guy. Classy!

After a few years the main chef was no longer at Saba-Ya. We remained regulars anyway, but got word he'd opened a new joint across the street, tucked in the back corner of the slick two-story strip mall that also featured an exciting new take-out place called El Pollo Loco. Apparently the other sushi bar was a step up from Saba-Ya. So one afternoon my dad and I poked our heads in to scope it out; the light stained wood paneled room was beautiful, and still remains in my limited experience the paragon of less-is-more impeccable Japanese taste, but we couldn't spot a menu anywhere. Plus it was filled with seriously serious businessmen, and the hushed sound level was intimidatingly serene.

We then read how a sushi chef named Masa Takayama who's run a little restaurant called Saba-Ya operated THE most expensive restaurant in Los Angeles located in a Koreatown strip mall. It also happened to be Marlon Brando's favorite. Suddenly the situation made sense, and Ginza Sushi-Ko soon after relocated to Beverly Hills.

Arado doesn't exactly retain the luster of its previous tenant. But it's good for sharing an easy lunch and stories with the kids, and using nostalgic reflection as consolation for not eating at Masa any time soon. Who knows, maybe he'll want to revisit his humble L.A. roots someday.

Arado
4001 Wilshire Boulevard
Los Angeles, CA 90010
213.387.1199

In Praise of Smaller Local Farmers' Markets

Big box chain store shopping shouldn't have much to do with farmers' marketing, but in one case, it's unavoidable. Bed Bath & Beyond is useful and all, thanks to those coupons that never expire and some crap I usually need. Yet over the years going to the Hollywood Farmers' Market inevitably means a trip to BB&B to validate my damn parking. (Unless I can swing brunch at the Hungry Cat.)

Lucky for us more little markets keep popping up, and at this rate, there'll eventually be one in my backyard. They might not all have the selection or variety of the big boys, but I'll take the convenience and lower key neighborhood vibe over teeming crowds on Sundays. Which isn't to say I don't love that, too; it's just a different deal. Lately it's about quicker in and out and easier kid management instead of extended socializing and leisurely weekend shopping.

While every market needs community support, I'm making an effort to patronize the vendors set up at Atwater Sunday, Barnsdall Wednesday, Silver Lake Saturday, and Los Feliz/Vermont Sunday markets. The Barnsdall market on Wednesday afternoons and evenings (12-6) is now managed by SEE-LA and is particularly pleasant, what with all the olive trees and historic setting and whatnot. Plus parking is easy and the location neatly contained. Head up the hill for a picnic if you're so inclined.

Along with plenty of produce peddlers, Angel sets up Cafecito Organico's shop, and if you time your visit right (which I did NOT yesterday), you might catch the righteous Grill Masters before the chicken fat-powered truck rolls off to its next destination. Or if all else fails, don't worry, there's still Hollywood on Sundays. Everyone could always use a bottle of multi-purpose cleaner.

Object fetish: Dyson Airblade at Tavern Brentwood

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

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

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

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

Mobile Food Trend: Will It Stay or Should It Go? and Other Dwell on Design Thoughts

Edgy eyewear, crisp lines aplenty, sustainable materials up the yin yang, and the many other components that created the Dwell on Design gestalt were within tangible grasp of Los Angeles aesthetes. Of the panels and discussions, perhaps the most anticipated event was Saturday night's movie event hosted at the Geffen Contemporary at MOCA. Docs about Julius Shulman and environmental activism in Boston were part of the draw, but food on wheels proved to be the main attraction to the sold-out event. This was a Restaurant Row absent of any trace of Lawry's, the Stinking Rose, and Benihana.

Roach coaches from Sprinkles, Coolhaus (debuting its newest flavor, Louis Kahntaloupe; I struck out, alas), the Green Truck, Barbie's Q, Let's Be Frank and Locali's "Icycle" frozen dessert tricycle did brisk business. I was quite the permissive mom and James got INSANELY messy, between the cupcake and mint choco chip ice cream sandwich. NEVER underestimate the appeal a "truck with cupcakes" has to a toddler.

The trucks and customers activated the hardscape beneath the steel structure in an exciting way. But it also provided some fodder for geeky urban planning-type debate.

This latest craze makes perfect sense in our mobility-obsessed city, offers a big convenience factor, and can get people to experience public life and know sidewalks they might otherwise never see. And yet I wonder. Is it a hipster/bourgie fetish of something that's already existed for decades mostly in lower income communities out of necessity? Does this phenomenon celebrate or ultimately belittle food trucks, co-opting and turning it into a flash-in-the-pan trend?

Or will more eateries jump on the bandwagon, making it a permanent addition to the city landscape and a rare tool that manages to cut across socio-economic lines? 

But let me state that part of this anti-romanticizing comes from six years of having food trucks as my school cafeteria.

Anyway, getting back to what I actually saw, food-oriented highlights from the convention hall included the eye-popping green -- literally and figuratively -- recyclable kitchen by Valcucine, displayed with a fabulously practical plant wall that momentarily took me back to the Casa Camper in Barcelona. And after seeing the Zyliss SmartTouch salad spinner included in designboom's Kitchen Ecology exhibition, I might have to ditch my old trusty, beat up Oxo.

Other reports: Marissa went on the East Side home tour, and Pat at Eating L.A. spent a few hours at the Square Meal panels and demos on Sunday.

Coolhaus competition: where ice cream AND architecture geeks unite!

Since spotting the super cute Coolhaus ice cream sandwich truck tooling along Hyperion yesterday, I'm gripped with the compulsion to keep coming up with punny names for its naming competition co-sponsored by the Dwell on Design conference. (Read details about the Sweetest Contest Ever here on Dwell's website if you want to participate, and check out Alissa's video.) I'm usually terrible at this sort of thing -- especially compared to the pun masters Aram and my brother-in-law Jake -- but for patently obvious reasons, I can't resist giving it a shot.

Below are my corny ideas ... so far. But I really must stop already. And granted, not all of the inspirations are strictly modern architects/designers. (Links to the referenced architects attached.)

I.M. Peach (ginger cookies, peach Madeira sorbet)
Tadao Toasted Almond (lavender cookies, toasted almond ice cream)
Edward Durell Stone Fruit (sea salt cookies, apricot sorbet with crushed lollipops)
Norman Bananas Foster (caramel cookies, banana brown butter ice cream)
Herzog de Melon (clove-spiced cookies, cantaloupe sorbet)
Aldo Red Raspberry (basil cookies, red raspberry sorbet)
Jean Nougat (hazelnut cookies, nougat ice cream)
Eerie Spearmint-en (zucchini cookies, spearmint ice cream)
Gorge-on Cinnamon Bunshaft (cinnamon bun cookies, maple ice cream)
Josef & Anni Albariño (lemongrass-infused cookies, Albariño wine sorbet)
Mocha Chip-idus (mocha cookies, chocolate chocolate chip ice cream)
Yens Rice-Yum (green tea-infused cookies, sake ice cream)
Henry's Bacon (biscuits with bacon, vanilla-bacon ice cream)
Birchtram Goodhues (rainbow swirl cookies with birch beer ice cream)

Exclusively California architects edition:

Stylin' O. Clementine (rhubarb cookies, clementine sorbet)
Thom Mayne Blueberry (honey cookies, Maine blueberry ice cream)
Toffee-ael Soriano (molasses cookies, toffee crunch ice cream)
George Washington Granny Smith (dried cherry cookies, granny smith ice cream)
Cloud Beerman (vanilla cookies, malt ice cream with layer of marshmallow)
Walnut Neff (walnut cookies, chevre ice cream)
Three Alarm Siren Hunt (cayenne pepper cookies, jalapeño ice cream)
Cool-ya Morgan (strawberry cookies, Captain Morgan rum raisin ice cream)
Marron Cliff-Ce (iced oatmeal cookies, marron glace ice cream)
AlFreddo RosenThyme (thyme cookies, rosewater ice cream)
WellDone Becket Biscuit (brown butter biscuit, buttermilk ice cream)

Final note: despite the length of this list, I have no delusions of any of mine becoming the winning entry. Yet I have nothing to lose but a little bit of my time. And dignity.

More this n' that from the JBFAs

I've already summarized the Angeleno presence on Monday at the James Beard Awards. Here are some other miscellaneous observations and dish.

I know from seeing plenty of celebs that they're always smaller or bigger than you expect. Martha was, like, a giant. I recognize those gottahavethem Manolo d'orsay pumps; looks like she's a size 40 to me, and has a very high tolerance for stiletto pain. Martha and Lorraine Bracco had a lot to talk about as Ms. Steward balanced herself on the couch arm next to me in the press room before the show started. I don't want to dwell on other starstruck moments, but Grant Achatz up close...Foxy!

After all the orange ribbon medals were handed out and the near-Oscars-length ceremony ended, it was time to eat at the Women in Food themed gala. Yay, finally. I've been to some disorganized, patience-testing tasting events. This was definitely NOT one of those. The food and drink were plentiful and efficiently churned out for a big crowd. That's the way to do it y'all, and thankfully all the pros are there to impress with their A game. 

The small bites ranged from the familiar to the uncharted. To wit: Fiore di Nonno burrata on bulgur crackers with artichoke and green olive (Jody Adams of Rialto) vs. Bolinas goat tongue on a thick crisp crouton with Meyer lemon, fenugreek, mint and tomato chutney (Loretta Keller of Coco500) .

Jennifer Petrusky of Charlie Trotter's super seasonal fava bean and onion surprise did leave us wondering what the that mysterious element was. The morels were obvious, but the terrine seemed to have something else to make it dense. Turns out it was all morels in there, topped with the pickled onions, more morels, and duck gizzards. Surprise!

A few desserts required a second round. Green apple sorbet topped with Alaskan king crab and crab butter powder served in little bamboo bowls by Holly Smith of Cafe Juanita

showcased intriguing texture, flavor, and temperature contrasts, even if the sorbet was a little overly sweet.

Danica Pollard's beautiful toasted almost and rose bonet (similar to flan) with rhubarb and candied rose petals and Kate Zuckerman of Chanterelle's warm coconut-cardamom rice pudding with rhubarb and kumquats were both gorgeous to look at and taste.

Green apples in the pink rose and verbena flower arrangement at Pollard's Lidia's Kansas City station is something I'll have to copy in future flower arranging  endeavors. Asparagus with white tulips at award-winner Maria Hines of Tilth's table, where the Best Chef Northwest winner set out beef carpaccio with asparagus, horseradish creme fraiche and sorrel, wasn't quite as pretty, but I love these efforts to incorporate food with flowers. 

One last little thought. Given the overflowing trash cans full of plastic plates and utensils, I recommend there be a Green Food /Good Habits attempt in future years.

Late April/early May: A lovely time to visit Central New York

Yeah, of course NYC is always fun, but sure isn't relaxing. A few days in Ithaca felt more like the vacation we wanted. A few images from around the Finger Lakes region, where hopefully the quality of the cooking will someday soon better honor and be on par with that of the locally cultivated ingredients.

Beautiful spring flowers at the Ithaca Farmers Market. Lilacs are just starting to bloom; in a week or so they'll be in full force like the blazing yellow forsythia is.

Talk about determined bakers. They hitch and TOW their wood-burning oven to make on-site pizzas and other breads. The croissants were dense and forgettable, but the berry brioche was delicious (not baked in the featured device, obviously).

Beautiful aggressively local mushrooms.

The Piggery, terrific Trumansburg folks who've made a successful go of it pig farming and making amazing fresh sausages, bacon, terrines, and other porky goodies. Oh man, did we LOVE the spicy Italian combined with local kale raab from Blue Heron Farm with pasta that night. 

Many visits to Gimme! Coffee, State Street, Farmers Market, and Cayuga Street locations, but mostly the recently remodeled Cayuga (pictured). Henry could not be more proud of his hometown. Not that Moosewood isn't a pride-worthy community asset...

I spent most of our day wine tasting as designated driver, yet managed to sneak in some semi-responsible sips.  Our extremely carefully planned itinerary (there are MANY bad wineries to avoid) was mostly centered around Keuka Lake and Seneca, with stops and buying sprees at Ravines and Dr. Frank, of course. We bought some late harvest dessert and ice wines at Hunt Country, and squeezed in a last tasting at Hermann J. Wiemer (above). It was the stinkiest, most sulfur-smelling spot, but not without other distinct advantages: the tasting room is in the actual belly of the winemaking beast, and the very tasteful, simply appointed wine shop sells only wine. No "Got Wine?" shirts or other painfully tacky wine paraphernalia. 

I'll be able to enjoy the Reisling bounty in a year or so, but in the meantime, I got something out of the day: antiquing in Hammondsport. All for the better. I needed to reunite with my inner rummager rather than drinker anyway.

 

Neo-crunchy: The Hazelnut Kitchen, Trumansburg, NY

If you were tell people who grew up in a very-small-town-outside-of-what's-already-a-small-town that their hometown probably has the best restaurant in the area, they might not believe you. Particularly those who have since moved away from said very small town. I imagine a lot of our friends from Trumansburg, NY, which is a few miles away from my husband's charming hometown, will have that reaction.

But the good people of Trumansburg, the "progressive yet rural community" that houses many small organic family-run farms and such, are lucky to have the Hazelnut Kitchen around. (The quoted description above of T-burg comes from the restaurant's website.) Part Americana cafe, part sophisticated bistro, and part venue for encouraging locavore-ism, it's a friendly, delicious restaurant I'd be absolutely thrilled to have in my big city neighborhood. It likely would be packed all the time. Instead on a Thursday night it's a low-key, quiet, well-worn but not at all shabby room with high ceilings, wood booths, an open kitchen and checkerboard floors -- the space was the funky town diner for many years -- with a smattering of happy customers and a couple of loud crazy toddlers running around (our fault).

Hazelnut Kitchen is the next logical step for the post-Moosewood generation who have come to expect the legacy of Chez Panisse and some classical techniques in this type of neo-crunchy context, versus meals that make you feel like you just "ate the lawn," as my father in law would say. Which isn't to dis the original wonderful institution of which my fabulous cousin David is still a part.

Back to the kids; the little ones have NO idea how good they have it there. The grilled cheese on thick country white bread with sesame crust plus two sides combo was truly exceptional, and easily would cost twice as much than its modest $6.50 elsewhere. Us adults wound up polishing off the sandwiches after the tots filled up on fries and peas.

We also loved the delicate fluffy pea flan that was redolent of spring in the area and served with a refreshing radish, asparagus and minty salad. The pork chop special with okra, both sauteed and served under the chop as well as with a couple battered and fried pieces, was a major tone shift, but perfectly prepared and full of flavor. I didn't finish the tart with local beets, potatoes, local goat cheese, and chunky that was heavy on the pepper because dessert was an absolute must. How could I refuse apple bourbon strudel with ice cream on a bed of creme anglaise, and hazelnut butter cake with fresh plums integrated into the cake, creme anglaise, and hazelnut ice cream?

So should you ever happen to be passing through Trumansburg, Ithaca, or anywhere in a 30 or so mile radius, this is the spot, folks.

53 East Main Street
Trumansburg, NY
607.387.4433

Coming to a home near you: Mozza To Go

Because we're on vacation in New York and Ithaca for a couple of weeks and I don't have much time to post, I'll just cannibalize my own Squid Ink LA Weekly post about the latest forthcoming addition to the Mozza Empire. Cheers! Yay! Etc.

Sprouting broccoli smackdown: Weiser vs. McGrath

Spring in SoCal is made extra special thanks to the magical world of broccoli. A couple weeks ago on a whim I grabbed a big bag of Weiser's sprouting kind. With no thick central stalk around which the plant is arranged, its spindly skinny stems, purple florettes, and funny leaves shoot out every which way.  What a goofy vegetable.

Being unsure about the outcome, I trimmed the stalks down a lot and mixed it with cauliflower to roast and make one of my veg-pasta standards. It added some nice contrast to what's otherwise quite the exploration of monochromatic foods, what with the pasta, cauliflower, pine nuts, shallots,  Parm and whatnot, but this mix probably just muted the pure sprouted broccoli experience.

So last week at the market I saw McGrath has its own kind. It's not as exotic in the color department; it's basically a dark, iron-promising green. The leaves and stems are shorter and less gnarly than Weiser's, so I just rinsed and roasted with olive oil, garlic and shallots. If only making vegetables were ALWAYS this convenient without involving food science and creepy vacuum-packed bags from commercial supermarkets. When munched raw the broccoli had a little spicy tang, which was mostly lost in the cooking.

Upshot is they're both great. (I'm never much one for competition anyway.) And it would be nice if all these guys could hang around longer. But then they'd be less special. Tough call. Anyway, if you come across some, buy a big bag (it's pricey at about $5/pound, but it's all usable so worth the price), then let the stalks, trees, and leaves be untamed. Let sprouting broccoli's freak flag fly.