Get Me Some Sushimon – Torrance

All good things must come to an end, but my cross-country road-trip was more of a beginning. With the east coast far behind and west coast just over the nearby horizon, Sushimon signaled the start of something, a new life I didn’t expect. Road-torn and world-weary, with enough miles under my belt to warrant an oil change, I chose to conclude my journey by collapsing on the stool of a reasonably-rated sushi bar next to the apartment in which my new life would begin. My first meal in Torrance was at Sushimon. And so was my second…And my third.

My first taste of Torrance was a board of the Osaka, nine palatable pieces of nigiri with a splotch of spicy tuna for good measure. The eel is rich, the squid and clam are sweet, and nothing tempers road rage like the well-cut classics of salmon, tuna, and red snapper.

The dinner plates can be a little pricey in the long run, but when it comes to bang for your buck, nothing makes more noise than the Lunch Special B. I got an extra salmon roll with mine, but the special itself should be enough unless you’re planning to pig out. I am always planning to pig out. I hate mayo, but the crab salad in the California Rolls was bearable. I wish they did an avocado roll instead of cucumber, but kappa is refreshing amongst all that fish. The salmon roll is fresh, the nigiri are niblets of the real thing, and bonus hand roll is good enough to be dessert.

A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. But if you order the Hand Roll Special, three rolls in the hand are worth $7.39 in the wallet. The Salmon Hand Roll is full of chunks of fresh fish, and the Spicy Salmon Hand Roll was one of the tastiest I’ve had. Instead of the usually diced salmon and a tempura flake filler, it’s plain salmon tossed in their spicy mayo, a mix of mayo, sriracha, and a spark of fire. The mayo may have all the fire, but never underestimate the power of a smooth green Avocado Hand Roll either.

The specialty rolls look exciting enough, but sometimes you need to go back to basics. The Avocado Roll will get you your fill of California with its layers of ripe avocado, the spirit-fruit of the Golden State. The firmer rice tempers the gooey green, but just when you think it can’t get richer, the avocado inside adds a flavor-burst.

Jamaicans aren’t the only people who go to sushi, mon. Three days on the west coast and I was already their most loyal customer. Homesick and weary, I found myself frequenting this place, maybe just to hear the humor of this sweet, functional family-run establishment. The whole family looks up from their playful banter to say hello when I come in. The owner gets my soda and ladles my miso soup, and his daughter (or niece) presents me with wasabi and ginger. I think they close at 9, but even when I sit down at 8:50, I could sit there all night without feeling rushed. No matter how long their day, I get good sushi and service with a smile. So thanks for the warm welcome, Sushimon. I have a four-star smile for you.

A Sure Thing at The Shed – Santa Fe, New Mexico

The cast of Rent once dreamed about opening up a restaurant in Santa Fe on a cold, sad night when Christmas bells were ringing…somewhere else, not here. If their dreams ever came true, the restaurant they would have opened would be The Shed, with its walls painted in bright shades of desert-meets-bohoemian and simple tabletops and plates that boast of an honest living.

If you liked the musical Rent, you’ll fit right in at The Shed…if you ever get in. We went on a Monday night and the place was already packed. I think I saw one empty table: ours. I had the Chicken Enchilada Verde, a pull of white chicken hastily wrapped in a to-die-for blue corn tortilla with a lunchlady’s ladle of green chile and a fistful of cheese. The chicken had no seasoning, but it was juicy all the way through, and when everything just gets thrown together and doused in chile, it’s good to have something a little blander as an offset. The plate may look like a hot mess, but I promise it’s possibly the only hot mess you’ll never regret. I do have one regret – I didn’t get red chile, and The Shed supposedly serves the best red chile ever. It must be phenomenal if the green chile is any indication.

As a girl who can’t stand her food touching, my love at first bite of this hot-mess plates that comprise the cuisine of New Mexico should be pretty telling. And I am telling you that had I known about The Shed before this, I would have sold my guitar, got a car, sang a heart-wrenching version of “Goodbye Love” and left New York for Santa Fe years ago.

La Esquina – Albuquerque, NM

My first stop was in Memphis so you’re probably wondering how I got from there to Albuquerque in a day. I didn’t. We stopped in Shamrock, Texas, and I wish you luck in finding something edible and writable between Memphis and Shamrock or Shamrock and Albuquerque around dinnertime. On the plus side, it seems that Panda Express has upgraded significantly since I last ate there…

After Panda Express and too many Taco Bells, I was pretty relieved to get something sit-down. The problem with La Esquina lies in finding the restaurant where you’re supposed to sit down. Named for its literal location, this modest little hole-in-the-ground wraps around the corner…of a basement…in an underground mall…in downtown Albuquerque, New Mexico…a state with many corners. But if my description still doesn’t deter you, once you manage to find this sharp little corner, you’ll find that its food is definitely on point.

I’d never had NEW Mexican food before, but it seems every good meal with the word Mexican in it starts with a Chips & Salsa. I’ve never had a bad salsa, but this stuff blows everything else out of the tomatoey water. I prefer a chunkier style, but this stuff is just phenomenal thanks to a dash of red and green chile. There’s just no going back after this slightly-watery chip-sticker.

I went with the Assorted, which consisted of a blue corn taco full of fresh, tender, well-seasoned ground beef that didn’t ooze a single drop of grease.  I usually don’t even like enchiladas, but this blue stack of corny chewy-cheese smothered in Christmas (both red AND green chile) would give anyone a little holiday cheer. The side of pinto beans make a strong showing, and this gringa enjoyed a taste of posole. This gringa will also never enjoy corn tortillas again after a few sweet bites of these blue corn tortillas.

My gringa adventure didn’t end with the posole. This deep-fried Sopaipilla, a softer, chewier, not-so-flaky pastry puff, puts funnel cake to shame. Make it drip with honey and you’ll never need dessert again.

When you go to New Mexico, just remember that Texans may have pride but New Mexicans have pride the size Texas. So whatever you do, just don’t confuse their food with Mexican. I can’t say for sure which one I love more, but after just one lunch at La Esquina, I’d say out with the old and in with the New…Mexican.

Three Angels Diner - Memphis

Laozi once said “A journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step.” My journey of 3000 miles started with a single 12-hour drive from Raleigh to Memphis. Three guardian angels were following me and my 14 year-old Lexus on this journey so I found it only fitting to eat my Memphis meal at Three Angels Diner.

Who were those three guardian angels, you ask? Their names were A, A, and A. (That’s Triple A in case you didn’t get that. Just make sure you do get their discount to Graceland if you’re a member).

As for the angelic diner food, I ordered the Pozole without having any idea what pozole was. I saw that it came with avocado and that was all I needed to know. Turns out, pozole is a cross between the three angels of soup: chili, stew, and a slightly watery mole, which basically combine to form one biggish bowl of peri-road trip comfort, flavored with hard chunks of pork and hominy. I also added a side of Mashed Sweet Potato which was just a cooked sweet potato prepped by someone with serious anger issues. I’m not sure they added anything to it, but it tasted so fresh it didn’t need much.

After being bounced and tossed around by all the potholes of I-40, Three Angels’ pinball machine is just thing to make you forget your aches and pains. That and realizing that the third seat adjuster button, which you’ve never tried, was the button for lumbar support. Not that I would be that stupid…

Anyway, if you’re ever in Memphis, the decision to grab a bite at this sweet little modern-art-loaded diner-dive is anything but stupid. The Historic Arts District isn’t the nicest part of Memphis, but if you’re headed to the west like me, just consider this your preview of the less nice parts of LA.

Enjoying 18 Seaboard – Raleigh, NC

The duller the name, the better the restaurant. NC Seafood Restaurant serves exactly what it says, and it does a darn good job of it. Irregardless Café is a name of excitement and mystery, but the F in their Food stands for f’ed up. Sweet Onion isn’t all that creative, but their trout turned out pretty sweet. If the naming of North Carolina restaurants is any indication, a restaurant named for its street address should be pretty phenomenal.

The Amuse Bouche, some sort of pureed asparagus with a dab of goat cheese, really whetted the appetite on a sticky summer day. A lot of thought went into this cheesy-green little bite, and it seems a lot of thought went into the big bites too because this restaurant/street address definitely didn’t disappoint.

I don’t know how much thought it took to come up with the Sea Island Red Pea Hummus. I’m not sure I could ever think of it. Compared to chick pea hummus, the red pea is a little more grainy and a little more gritty, with a stronger, more hard-hitting flavor burst. Hummus is so smooth you barely notice you’re eating it, but one taste of red pea will knock your socks off. And the contrast of the grainy, heavier hummus with a smooth, cool cucumber was absolutely amazing. The red pea hummus couldn’t have been more different than the hummus you’d expect every time you open a container of Sabra, but I hope whoever thought of this keeps thinking because this was one brilliant idea.

I usually avoid walking the plank, but if my dull-name theory works, the wood plank entrees were clearly the way to go. My Atlantic Salmon melted in my mouth at a perfectly-cooked medium, and although my side sauce of Champagne Tarragon Butter was an herbalicious addition, I would stick to just dipping some bread or fries in it. When the salmon lingers so lusciously, what’s the point of swallowing sauce? The side of Blue Crab Hoppin’ John didn’t have me hopping for joy…or for anything, really. It’s a just more polished Campbell’s chicken and stars soup where the congealed nastiness is replaced with clear broth and crab. A little bit bland, but I approve the substitution.

I heard Mint Chocolate Chip Crème Brulee and thought I had to try it. Sometimes my thoughts are very wrong. Almost as wrong as this creamy-yet-chocolatey, sugary-yet-bitter-fresh, more-confused-than-a-teenager-with-an-identity-crisis concoction. It didn’t taste bad, but crème brulee plus mint is weird.

Instead of the traditional pat on the back, 18 Seaboard gave me a congratulatory pound. As if those incredible, individually-wrapped, grocery-store slices next to the Twinkies weren’t good enough, their moist little Pound Cake topped with a icy congratulations was even better than the lemon loafs I treat myself to after a good day at Starbucks. Sure it’s just pound cake, but then again, Seaboard is just a street.

What is in a name? Just an address if you’re at 18 Seaboard. No fancy nomenclature, no twisted taxonomy, no confusing classifications. Everything is named for what it is and its most recent mailing address (i.e. Florida gulf swordfish). So give 18 Seaboard a chance and don’t be fooled by a dullish name. Because food this good doesn’t need a name to hide behind.

So-So Sweet Onion – Waynesville, NC

Unlike onions, which most people either love, hate, or love to hate, The Sweet Onion is quite the crowd pleaser. There’s plenty that’s pleasing on this menu, whether you’re craving carbs, crabs, or just some good old sweet southern comfort. But like the variety on the menu, there are many varieties of onions and not all are created equal.

I started to unwrap The Sweet Onion with the Cornmeal Encrusted Avocado appetizer, which I hoped would be like a red onion. Eccentric in appearance, with a real bite of character underneath, red onions add flair to every dish. Unfortunately, the fried avocado in this dish was unripe, and while it did possess a distinct flavor, this flavor was about as appealing as onion breath. The crab topping was fine, but the preparation preserved none of that blue crab sweetness, ironic at a restaurant called SWEET Onion. The so-called sriracha aioli was indistinguishable from chipotle mayo, and the caramelized onion didn’t go with…well…anything.

Like a sweet, perfectly caramelized Vidalia onion, the Pink Sunburst Trout could have pleased even the biggest fish skeptic, and I dare say even people who hate fish would go for this trout. Firm but soft, cohesive but flaky, all with an herb & garlic butter sauce that was simply to die for. As in I thought I died in ecstasy after the first bite. The side of Sautéed Vegetables made an appropriate accompaniment, but I didn’t love the coarse-ground cornmeal that concealed rather than covered the Fried Okra.

Buddhists believe that onions increase desire when eaten cooked and increase anger when eaten raw. My hotel’s concierge had raved about The Sweet Onion, and after reading some glowing yelp reviews, I had pretty high hopes. Unfortunately, while I found nothing raw at Sweet Onion, I can’t say the way my appetizer was cooked increased my desire to eat there again.

Despite the rave reviews, The Sweet Onion seems to be more of a white onion, the most neutral of onions. It aims to please those who just need an onion, but if you’re not careful, you just might order something that makes you cry.

Cold Feelings for Frogs Leap Public House – Waynesville, NC

You don’t always want hot food during North Carolina’s sweltering summer. The day I went to Waynesville was no exception. After a full day at a whopping 80 degrees, I was dying for something cool and refreshing. If you find yourself in the same boat and happen to be in Waynesville, Frogs Leap is the public house for you.

Frogs Leap seems to understand that there’s nothing like that first sip of a cold beer to break through a sweat, and their decision to use a miniature cast iron skillet like a frozen beer mug clearly reflects that understanding. When I ordered the Devils on Horseback, I figured I couldn’t go wrong with gooey dates covered in crisp bacon, stuffed with melted blue cheese. Plus the decision to add honey to the Frogs Leap version was pure genius. Unfortunately, that genius turned out to be more of an idiot-savant. Thanks to the ice-cold skillet they were served in, these dates could have replaced the ice cubes in my water. Later in the meal, I asked where the name devils on horseback came from and was told that they had nothing to do with the devil. I wish they had - then my dates would have been hot.

My excitement was flowing over faster than the yolk of a perfectly poached egg when I saw the Poached Farm Eggs/Duck Confit. These poached eggs were indeed perfect, the potatoes were well-seasoned, and the truffle hollandaise brought it all together. The problem is, all those great things were still served in yet another ice-cold skillet, which sapped heat faster than a freezer. The good news is, I ate this dish before it froze in the skillet – I scarfed it down quickly because it was so salty I feared that it would pickle within minutes. And although I rarely criticize the pricing on premium ingredients, that dab of duck and couple of eggs better be spouting a golden yolk for 16 dollars.

The Artichoke & Zucchini Flatbread tasted as pretty as it looked and holds the distinction of being the only dish served hot. It was about as cheese-heavy as an extra cheese pizza, but the combined flavor of so many different cheeses kept it exciting, and the veggies kept it light.

I think the food would have been much better at Frogs Leap if all of it didn’t suffer from hypothermia. The skillet may be a fun way to serve a dish but only when it’s done right. I.e. you’re supposed to heat the skillet. It’s really not that hard.

In medicine, when a person with hypothermia has no pulse, the adage is “they’re not dead until they’re warm and dead”. Maybe if Frogs Leap learned to serve their cold dead dishes on a warm skillet, maybe they would cease to be dead to me.