Nouilles of 3rds UPDATE - Lomita

Most people don’t know this, but I am indebted to Nouilles of 3rds. Because pregnancy also comes in thirds, and I wouldn't have made it through the first third if I didn't have Nouilles of 3rds. 

During first trimester, I was one of the “lucky” ones. No nausea or vomiting, but I had my own equivalent; fatigue and a complete lack of appetite so severe I could barely force feed myself a single banana.

Everyone finds a food they can handle, and for me it was the House Noodle Soup. Almost once a week, I'd muster all my strength to get into the car for almost a full bowl of noodle soup. The beef broth is full of flavor and savor, rich without being too fatty or thick. That giant bone that's full of marrow adds extra layers of depth, and the rice noodles are always cooked just right. And Nouilles of 3rds was extra kind. I just don't love their meatballs,and when I would ask to substitute the meatball for extra tendon, they loaded it up without batting an eye, and I would get a bowl so full of tendon that I would catch a bit of it every time I dipped my spoon.

I had to know if I loved that soup just because I was pregnant or because I just love that soup so I ordered that soup again. I just love that soup. It's just as good today as it was all those other days, though it may be even better without the progesterone to screw with my system.

They make other dishes too, Cambodian/Asian staples from the south if you're looking for less liquid. They make a good Hainan Chicken, for example, a deceptively difficult dish. The chicken is tender with none of the sliminess that sneaks in when chicken is poached. The ginger dip is strong and stings in a way that is hard-hitting without being a full-on assault. The garlic rice is just right, made in a broth with a little edge. 

The Beef Loc Lac is juicy little bits, tiny bites sautéed with a sweeter soy. It’s not my favorite thing only because I like the chicken better. 

I think I’ve had everything on the menu now, and I have yet to find something that doesn't make me smile. In a pandemic world where there is less and less reason to smile, at least I'll be smiling about the soup.

Boiling Point UPDATE - Gardena

How do you make hot pot travel well? You don’t.

Covid presents unique challenges for restaurants, some far more than others. Boiling Point is the severest of sufferers, with its signature heated pots of Asian stew. Some things just aren’t meant for a take-home box, and bagging up a hot pot gets you a lukewarm mess. Their House Special, for example, has a smooth yet pungent broth of fermented tofu funk that does not lack potential. I love that the after-shock of the tofu sneaks into your sinuses, and the shreds of pickled Chinese radish add a salinity that is unique. The contents are a sampling of all the Asian things, but here's where it starts to devolve.  The curly slices of pork get tough as they continue to cook in the back of the Doordash car, the pieces of intestine boil into a texture of slimy rubber, and the meatball is rubber to begin with. I do love the soft chunk of taro, and the sweet n’ chewy fish cakes are always fun. There’s even a cute little quail egg that comes up when you dig deep, but I wish there was more than one of something so small. 

I prefer the sweeter spice of the Korean Bean Paste broth, which is thicker and richer, though lacking in layers of flavor like the house special. They call the sliced pork “belly”, and it may have been fattier and lighter, but it’s pretty hard to tell, again due to the cooking en route. There’s a chunk of hybrid fish cake-tofu stamped most adorably, a single chewy fish ball with visible chunks of lobster, and ropy egg noodles that lost some al dente in transit. I like the sweet zucchini and enoki, and there are plenty of bean sprouts to calm the burn.

The apps survive the trip better than the entrees, though they didn't leave a lasting impression themselves. The Holy Cow has all my favorite parts: tripe, tendon, and slices of soy sauce beef, but they're drenched in a numbing chili oil that completely takes over. I know spice is a matter of preference, but I felt like I was sipping from the bottle at times. 

The Spicy Fermented Tofu is coated with the exact same oil, and a similar layer of it also graces the Korean hot pot. I welcome a bit a spice, but so much of the same can get old pretty fast. The tofu itself is a palatal adventure. It starts as just a chewy bean curd, dense but porous. Then the funk sneaks in, spreading through the back of your throat and up your nose like a force. Your eyes will water as putrid turns to pleasure, just be prepared to literally feel fumes in your brain. 

Just because you can doesn’t mean you should. Just like boba without the boba is just tea, hot pot without the hot pot is just a soup that's overcooked. I hate writing this review because I love Boiling Point, but boxing up a hot pot is a no-go. I do hope they find a way to hang in, though, because I'll sit down to show my support as soon as it is safe!

Hopdoddy Burger Bar - El Segundo

Maybe it was the mood, the ambiance of a high-top bar with burgers and a beer, or maybe it's the fondness of the memory. Whatever it was, I saw Hopdoddy in a different light back then because my view of their delivery is dim.

I remember tender patties, thick and meaty, brimming with beefy juice. The patty is juicy enough, and the buttery brioche buns are perfectly toasted, but the construction of the burgers is off. The Magic Shroom is lacking in shroom, and though I loved the one mushroom I saw mid-bite, you only get so much magic out of a single shroom. The goat cheese was amazing, nutty with a sweet creaminess that is so unique, but slather on a bunch of mayo, and both the mushroom and pesto get lost. 

Even the Bacon Jam Double Cheese isn’t really my jam. It’s hard to taste anything but the jam, and I didn't need an entire burger to stay sugar-sweet. Their liberal use of mayo exacerbates the overpower, and it drowns out the mustard and pickle that are there to add some balance.

Sweet Potato Fries sound simple, but this is one side that they do right. Hot honey spices an aromatic sage, a fragrant scent followed by a warm, sweet burn. Irresistible. And utterly addicting. 

The secret to success is knowing when to stop, and beauty lies in balance. It seems Hopdoddy has forgotten both. I hope those burgers translate better at the bar because somewhere in transit, they seem to have lost their edge. 

Turquoise Restaurant - Redondo Beach

Turquoise. The word paints a color, and the color conjures a paradise of blue-domed rooftops and an idyllic Mediterranean breeze, Santorini-blue reflecting sunshine and an aqua sky. Turquoise also evokes a bright blue stone, set in the native jewelry of the American southwest. Here it’s the color of connection, bring one with nature and the earth. 

It sounds so cheesy but the food at Turquoise really does taste like harmony, a careful crafting of connecting elements, every dish is as bright and pure as it is exquisite. Many of their ingredients are organic or natural as well. 

I've never had dinner here, and I’m happy to stick with lunch. It’s similar food stuffed into affordable sandwiches and wraps.

The Salmon Pesto Panini is still one of the best sandwiches I've had to date. The salmon is juicy and tender, cooked to the exact point where the fat melts into the crevices of the flesh. The pesto lends a fresh-leaf fragrance, with a base of olive oil oozing into melty mozzarella. Tomatoes add some tang, and ripe chunks of sun-sweet avocado pull it all together under a crusty focaccia. 

The Lamb Filet Mignon Wrap is probably the best wrap I've had to date. The chunks of lamb are more tender than any ordinary lamb, a juice-brimming lop of loin. Lettuce and tomato lighten the lamb, as does the paper-thin wrap that reins it in. Basil and spices evenly coat each chunk of meat and salad alike, adding a middle-eastern flair. 

The Koubideh Wrap is a juicy grind of all the best beef. The flavors are delicate and a sprinkle of sumac brings savory to the max. 

The sandwiches are a satisfying size, but the starters are not to be shunned. Their Hummus is among the most polished I've had, smooth in texture, more cream than grit, with a flavor that is earthy with a finish that is addictively sweet. It's easy to assume it's just hummus, but there's so much more depth to this than ground chickpeas and salt. 

I love the hummus and I love the Baba Ghanoush. The eggplant is tender with zero mush and zero slime. It finishes a little bitter to highlight the concentration of smoke. Do bear in mind that it tastes just like eggplant, which can be polarizing. Don’t order this unless you like eggplant.

Consider this a warning. If you have a sandwich at Turquoise, you'll never settle for an ordinary sub again. Cold cuts just won't cut it once you've bitten into this salmon or swallowed the juices of their lamb. Everything I've had here is exquisite, and I can barely consider grabbing lunch anywhere else. 

Kiraku Japanese Ramen & Sushi - Torrance

One of three choices in the H-mart food court, Kiraku is my number one.   

I haven't even tried the third option, but I can't get past the Katsudon. Sure, it's just a pork cutlet, but sometimes the simple things stand out more. The katsu strips are meaty and tender, the breading soft with fluffy egg. There's something about the egg that really brings out the pork, and the meat juices add savor to the rice beneath.

The Chicken KatsuCurry is another comfort, a medium-thick Japanese gravy over fried chicken and rice. There's plenty of chicken and I love all the soft carrots and potato. The curry itself is on the lighter side and is mild with warmth but no heat. I prefer the chicken-and-egg, but this curry can curb a craving. 

I haven't tried the sushi, and I doubt the ramen would travel well, so the rice bowls are probably best. There are plenty of places to get a good katsudon, especially in Torrance, and I think Kiraku's would do okay within the ranks. 

Hansol Noodle & Korean Food - Torrance

A fixture in the H-mart food court, perfect stop between check-out and car. Order before you shop and grab it when you're done. Just don't get too indecisive in the snack aisle - they'll throw your food away if it sits out for more than an hour. 

I love Korean food, and there isn't a lot of it in the South Bay if you're looking for something good. I like most of the food at Hansol so far, especially the Ttokbokki. Rice cake and fish cake, my two favorite cakes, coated with a thick, gooey armor of blood-red gochujang. The chewy texture is exactly al dente, and the red-hot sauce is a controlled burn that doesn't make your tongue bleed. 

Play it safe with a Bulgogi Set if you're looking to balance out the hot stuff. The beef is thin and saucy-sweet, and there's pickles and a salad on the side.

Gotta love the banchan. Kimchi is a classic, the radish is always great, and I'll even eat some seaweed.

If you can't get enough of the kimchi, go for the Kimchi Bokkeumbap. It's "just" fried rice, but it's full of kimchi flavor, but they sneak a lot of savor so you get a little something extra. 

Here's where they lose all the stars: I asked which dish had their handmade noodles, and the cashier suggested the A2 Soellenongtang. The broth is great. Rich and savory, packed with beefy flavor and plenty of tender, fall-apart slices of marbled beef, you can't stop sipping once you perk it up with some red pepper paste. This is a soup I would get over and over again...but then I got to the noodles. They were not handmade unless the machine at the factory had hands. They looked like plastic and crunched like plastic and all ten strands were 80% raw at least. I don't know what this is because it feels like a joke.

I hate writing negative reviews at a time like this, especially because I really liked everything else I ate. The food at Hansol has an endearing homemade quality to it, with all the warmth of no-frills comfort food. That said, I can't really forgive a mistake like those noodles when take-out is the only option and there's no practical way to check your order before it's too late. Sorry Hansol, I liked you but your noodles ruined my night. 

Melisse - Santa Monica

Fine dining can be a clusterf*** these days as chefs vie to be the most innovative, the most forward-thinking, the most creative. Some succeed but most go down in a blaze of garish glory as strange smells assault your senses and fighting flavors knock the wind out of each other and of you. You won't find any of that at Melisse.

An amuse bouche of Prawn features the sweetest swirl of scarlet in a prawn jelly sea with a buffer of panna cotta to temper the textures and let the flavors flow. It's a bite-sized preview of the delights that lie ahead. Every dish highlights each ingredient, all of which are the finest on the market, and each element is seasoned with touches of genius and wafts of whimsy. They uplift and they elevate, but they leave well enough alone.

A Yellowtail Hamachi is stunning in an avocado stole. The fish is meaty, and the avocado brings out its butter, with lighter notes singing in a citrus soup. 

Pay the extra for Egg Caviar - you'll never regret keluga. The underneath egg is poached so soft you might mistake it for cream.

Dip, dunk, and soak with your puff of Basil Brioche. The basilar fragrance is singular, and the bread is as puffy as a cloud. The green isn’t a gimmick - you really are eating a field of basil. 

If you’re going to get the risotto, try the Vongole Crusted Alaskan Halibut first. This fish is a more delicate flavor compared to a bowl of butter, truffle, and cheese, though it is no less delightful. See-through shaves of cucumber make crunchy ribbons of “pappardelle” to offset a pliable piece of fish.

The Truffle Lobster Risotto is a supplement that almost equals the cost of the entire meal. Leave your financial worries at the bottom of the bowl, for there is nothing to regret. They make the risotto with a firm but tender rice, and the Aged Acquerello is supposed to be the best in the business. Each grain asserts its independence, as the flavors cling to the individual. Each grain absorbs the lobster broth completely, and together they embrace the chunks of lobster, of which there are so, so many. A heavy hand shaves the first white truffles of the season right at your table. 

The serious meats are next, starting with the SRF Wagyu Beef Sirloin. It's a meatier cut than most, with not as much of the solid-to-liquid transformation you get with most wagyus. This slice of sirloin requires a bit more chew, with a stronger savor that isn't easily overpowered. A gravy-esque bone marrow sauce oozes over each slice, gentle waves in a brown, caramelized sea of shallots. The short rib wrapped in pasta is the real show-stealer, cylinders of beefy flavor in a cozy, starchy cape. 

I’m surprised there wasn’t a supplement for the wagyu, but after a bite of the Truffle Stuffed Sonoma Lamb Loin, it’s not hard to see why. Wagyu may be wagyu, but it’s the lamb that melts in the mouth. Braised for what tastes like months, the juices flow for days. Squash flowers folded with juicy rib meat are a creative take on a classic veg, and a cushion of charred eggplant breaks up the meat fat with some smolder.

 

A creamy Raspberry Bavaroise to finish; it is oh so very French. A pistachio crumble at the bottom pairs oh so very perfectly, as does the pop of citrus in the yuzu-cream drops on top. The lemongrass sherbert asserts a bolder, more uplifting accent.

Sip on a sweet Rose and feel the bubbles sparkle as they gain traction on the tongue. Paired with the bavaroise, a swallow of this summer wine leaves a splash of raspberry-married-cranberry notes to linger.

A bonus course of Watermelon Sorbet is a breathy breeze on a slow summer night, and the jelly pops like a cool green rind. A little lemon jelly transitions from refreshing to sweet, and the Yuzu Macaron gets sweeter. End the night with a bite-size Caramel Bonbon for a creamy chocolate concentration. 

They call healthcare workers heroes, but it's the servers who are the saints. Always blamed and often ostracized, they already put up with so much. Now we've added a deadly pandemic to the list of things they must endure, but if that's what the Melisse servers are thinking, I would never know. The service is swift and impeccable, politeness accompanies genuine enthusiasm, and no face mask can hide their expertise. There is a smile underneath the fabric, courage beneath the face shield, and a fighting spirit that gives me hope. Ample space separates the tables under a pretty parking-lot patio, and a touchless cell phone scan reveals a menu that is as meticulous as it is memorable. We live in uncertain times, but this meal at Melisse makes me believe that maybe they, and we, can make it after all.