Vittles From Versailles – Manhattan Beach

I am the only person I know who hates surprises. I am the only person you know who hates surprises. You say it’s because I’m well-organized, composed, or methodical, but that’s because you’re kind and that’s why we’re friends. I am less kind to myself so let’s just be honest and say I’m too anal retentive to enjoy being surprised. Plus my inability to let go of pretty much anything makes it pretty hard to surprise me. I am planned-to-the-very-last-minute, more-rigid-than-the-royal-wedding, more-mapped-out-than-a-manuscript, more-organized-than-the-perfect-crime. 

Needless to say, I was neither expecting nor desiring any surprises when I went to Versailles. After all, what could possibly be surprising about a Cuban restaurant with the name of a famoso maison francais? And after savoring soft, warm bites of sticky-caramelized gooey-sweet plantains and a side of perfectly-flavored rice and beans, I was feeling pretty secure…until I bit into the Pollo Versailles. I knew the sauce garlic so I expected something smooth with a slight kick. What I got instead was a mojo criollo with sass. The sauce flows as smooth as water, but the garlicky vinegar hit me with all the wrath of a Tabasco-infused Warhead. My eyes watered while I tried to subtly choke…but seriously, how does one subtly choke? But after the initial shock wore off, I only wanted more. And more. And more. And more. Because it's brilliant. The sharp notes of garlic and acid add excitement to a mundane but perfectly-roasted chicken, and when eaten with the raw onions on top, the combination breathes new life into a hearty Cuban staple, though I think I would be breathing death if I were to breathe on anyone after eating that sauce.

If chicken excites you less, the Lechon Asado is the pork version of the pollo, and it really comes down to what you prefer. The comparatively gamier flavor of the soft shredded pork makes the sauce come as less of a shock, but give me the extra excitement any day. I liked it, but I’d pick the chicken every time.

I expect everything, and I’m surprised by nothing except Versailles. And like very few aspects of life, Versailles is slowly showing me that not all surprises should be avoided. I won’t be taking a shot at spontaneity anytime soon, but maybe one day I’ll go out on a limb and make a spur-of-the-moment decision…maybe when I stop shaking just thinking about it…

Yearning for (Better) Yellowtail at Yanagi - Torrance

To say that I'm prone to obsession would be an understatement. There are no words too casual, no details too small, no molehills too low to be made into a mountain. But I have few obsessions I can tell people about without making them scoot away or fall asleep. 

One such obsession is my latest foodie obsession with the collarbones of fish. Wow, that sounded less stupid in my head. No hard feelings if you scoot away from your screen.

But after all that melt-in-your-mouth salmon collar at Kanpai, I wanted to try every collar in Socal, and Yanagi was where I would start. And for some reason, a random stand-alone Japanese bistro in the middle of PCH didn't seem like a bad idea.

Yanagi may be an island on the PCH, but I doubt they fished the Salmon Kama straight out of any ocean. The meat was hard, and I think all the fat dried up.

The Hamachi Kama wasn't much more exciting. The white flesh is less flavorful, barely seasoned, and the taste lacks color as much as the meat. And while there are few things better than flame-kissed fish, the hamachi probably made out with the flames because half of it tasted like ash. 

The sushi is socal fresh, but it's about as exciting as the stuff you pick up from whole foods. Just your typical Spicy Scallop, Salmon, and Spicy Tuna rolls. Clearly all the fire went into the kama because the spicy sauce lacked serious spark. The specialty rolls definitely looked better, but I could buy an entire fish for those prices.

I know I've been a little hard on Yanagi, but no harder than their kama. And I hope all that criticism of the kama doesn't hurt my karma, but let's just say I'd brave the airport traffic to Kanpai every time I'm craving kama. 

Trying to Taste Tapenade – Los Angeles

Superman had his kryptonite, Caesar had his Brutus, and this foodie had a head cold. Not the kind where you sniffle a little and deal with a day of malaise, but the kind that gives you a walk on the anosmic side, down a street even the strongest of Sudafed can’t reach.

Knowing I had a serious handicap, we started slow, with a safe side of Prosciutto and Pineapple. Even people without noses can appreciate a salty prosciutto wrapped around some citrus for a splash of savory-sweet. And as if the prosciutto wasn’t promising enough, there are bites of creamy burrata in between.

It’s hard to make a good pulpo, and the Octopus definitely missed the mark. I think it’s called pulpo because it’s a bland, rubbery inner-tube surrounding an O-ring of mushy pulp. I’m not sure what part of an octopus even tastes like this. Tentacles have texture, and the head doesn’t have any mush.

The Goat Cheese and Olive Tapenade was delicious, just not together. The creamy chevre is full of rich, sweeter notes but when combined with briny olives, the flavors mix like oil and milk. This couple may have been more ill-fated than Juliet and her Romeo, but it sure didn’t stop me from spreading a ton of tapenade on my toast. If you’re going to make the dish that is the namesake of your restaurant, it better be good, and this was by far the best tapenade I’ve ever had.

The French Brussels Sprouts were about the same color as the tapenade, but while I loved the dark, slightly-bitter tapenade, I didn’t care to have my dark, very bitter Brussels sprouts burnt. Brussels are definitely better crisp, but the leaves were black with char. And when you char something that is already bitter, it smolders like the last ashes of a forgotten campfire instead of dancing on your tongue like the flames. The addition of the brie was also a little weird, but the notes of pine nuts were perfect.

I objected to the Veal Agnolotti about as much as I objected to the Brussels sprouts…but only in principle. Braised baby cow is an unnecessary waste, IMHO, but this shredded softness is unbelievably, blow-your-mind tender, a pocket of flavor stuffed into a bulging bag of al dente.

The Crispy Lamb is actually more of a waste. The only thing I can say is that it’s accurately described. It is indeed lamb, and it is indubitably crispy. But it is otherwise greasy, like it sat in fat and oil, and the mayo is mucus-thick, assaulting the senses and clogging the throat.

The lamb sits in fat, but the Duck Confit soars. This belly-filling, melt-in-your-mouth leg covering a bed of nondescript mashed potatoes is a dinner in itself. Construction workers aren’t the only ones who whistle when they see a nice leg. One bite of this duck and I sounded like a tea kettle.

The best part of dinner is that it’s followed by dessert. The Chocolate Nutella Panna Cotta was every bit as rich and chocolately as a panna cotta can promise, and I hope it’s a promise that there’s more where that came from.

The thing is, I’m not sure that panna cotta makes a promise it can keep because Tapenade’s dishes have been a either total hit or a total miss. The hits are amazing, but the misses are so far off the mark. Some things are meant to be, some things don’t belong together, and some things don’t even belong on a plate. When it comes to consistency, Tapenade was about as reliable as my sense of smell that night.

South Bay Cronut Crawl – Torrance & Manhattan Beach

When it comes to trends, I’m a little slow on the uptake. Razor scooters sounded too sharp, Gmail couldn’t possibly beat AOL, and I finished college before I got an iPod. So I guess it’s not so surprising that I waited months before trying the coveted cronut that took the foodies of New York City by storm.

Like all crazes, my cronut encounter started small, with these bitty two-biters at Lido Bakery. Sorry guys, sometimes size does matter, and Lido’s cronuts were just too little. The fluffy layers just didn’t stack up against the thick cream fillings. The Custard Cronut was weighed down by an eggy anchor, and the Pastry Cream Cronut wasn’t much better. In fact, I’m not sure it tasted any different.

The cronuts got bigger at Torrance Bakery, but bigger isn’t always better. The Cinnamon Sugar Cronut is creamless, and the impressively un-greasy lightness is a definite plus, but at the end of the day, it’s just a double-thick croissant in the shape of a donut plus a pound of cinnamon and sugar.

I had to go to Capicola for the real deal. And at $5 a pop, they got real pretty fast. But their whipped-cream-light-custard hybrid pastry cream is just perfect, and the proportions of the cronuts are just right. I loved the apple slices with caramel drizzle in the Caramel Apple Cronut, and if you simply swap the apples for chocolate chip, you get the Chocolate Chip Cronut, which makes for an easy but ecstatic bite.

I came, I saw, and I conquered the California cronut, but I don’t see what the fuss is about. These things can only blow your mind within two minutes after they’re made because then they get cold and weighed down by grease. A Cali cronut may not be even close to NYC, but even this crude sample conjures a pretty laughable image of New Yorkers spending hours in line. There are some trends I should follow more quickly, and I suffered for years without my iPod, but cronuts could definitely wait. And I really don’t regret not striking while the iron is hot, however I do regret not eating a cronut while it was still warm.

China – Grandma’s Cooking

I’ve said this a million times, and I’ll say it again. My grandma is the best cook in the world.  She’s a cook, not a chef. A chef has recipes and rules, and a chef must cater to the critic’s palate. Grandma caters to my critical palate, but she makes her own rules and recipes simply don’t exist.

A chef will slave over combinations of just the right seasoning and taste, but Grandma just throws in a dash of this and a pinch of that. And when she throws a dash of this and a pinch of that onto a leg of fall-off-the-bone Lamb, the savory explosion will stun your taste buds and blow your mind.

In case my description of the lamb didn’t convince you, let me set the record straight. When I say my grandma is a cook not a chef, I say it because I’m proud of her. Chefs can make all kinds of fancy things, but sometimes the simple things are best. Plain old Pork and Vegetable Dumplings put the best of all food groups into a neat little package of meat and vibrant veggies wrapped in a chewy carb.

The secret to any good dumpling dipping sauce is garlic, and few people love pure garlic more than the Chinese. I too love the tingle, the sting, and the undate-able breath.  I love it raw, I love it chopped, I love it cooked. I love garlic, but I love Garlic Scapes even more. The green sprouts that spring from partially-planted cloves of garlic make many light layers with a combined kick of garlic and leek.

I haven’t had much luck when it comes to dates, and I don’t think my breath is to blame. But I always have a great time with my dates when they’re embedded in a homemade Steamed Bun. Maybe my mother made these because she knew they were the only dates I was going to get... As much as my mother nags, sometimes my mother is right. She always told me to find a date that’s attractive on the inside and out, in which case I really can’t do much better than her Pork Buns, which have the perfect proportions of crunchy chives to round out the fatty ground pork. My grandma may be best cook in the world, but in my mother’s case, let’s just say the date didn’t fall far from the tree.

China - Shan Yao

The Chinese are always looking for a natural cure for all the evils of life, and they find one every year. It was tiger balm from the start, but then a green, camphorous liquid could cure everything from bruises to bug bites to arthritic joints. But modern medicine has its limits, and when medicine can't find a sure, you just have to find a superfood. Last year, is was purple yams, which banished bad diabetes and brought your rising blood pressure to a screeching halt. This year, Shan Yao the Chinese yam does all of these things and will extend your life by at least 10.65234 percent.

I love the taste and texture. Slippery, silky-soft grains slide off your tongue when cooked, and a raw refreshing, crispy crunch conjures the texture of a golden Asian pear minus all the juice. Shan yao can be savory when stir-fried with vegetables or swallowed in a steaming soup, but my favorite version is the one pictured; sweet and drizzled with blueberry on one side and chocolate on the other. And after eating more than half that toppling tower by myself, I guess I’ll have many more normal-blood-pressure-diabetes-free years to eat the other half.

China - Song of the South

Southern China is no stranger to fame. The accomplishments of the Song dynasty are pretty unforgettable, the terra cotta army is a lasting impression ten thousand times over, and Shanghai could almost be the center of the universe. But the real southern empire lives in the kitchen. Whether it's the homemade hybrid of northern dumplings and wonton soup (Southern Dumplings), the numbing spiciness of mala, or an iconic shot of sweetness that accompanies this Lotus Root, the south houses many a master chef. This particular bowl holds the best dumpling soup I've ever had.

Southern dumpling soup may be new to me, but Shanghai dumplings have always been a fave. I knew there were soup dumplings and soup shumai, but I had no idea there were Soup Bao as well. The crispy, fried skin, which is similar to a steamed bun and as thick as a pork bao, encases a full spoon of soup.

There are the classic soup dumplings, aka mini juicy dumplings, that almost everyone has tried, and then there is the real Pork and Crab Soup Dumpling. Seafood soup simmers inside a dumpling the size of a large man's fist. There's no way to hold this monstrosity over a spoon so the soup needs to be sucked out with a straw before you can slurp down the rest.

Geographically, my family stronghold lies in the north. I love my northern noshing, my speech is pure Liaoning mandarin, and my papercuts bleed bright red DongBei blood. But when it comes to dumplings and soup, I'm all for the southern Song.

China - Hot Pot Brings the Heat

There's nothing colder than a northeastern winter, and in a country where indoor temperature control is dubious at best, there were days when I thought I'd never be warm again... 

Until it was time for dinner. Nothing gets my blood boiling like a steaming soup waiting to steep the meats and veggies of a high-end hot pot. 

Start light with wasabi Chinese broccoli-esque balls and build up to savory sausage and luxurious lamb. 

Need a break from meat? Freshly fileted black sea bass can be briefly boiled or eaten as sashimi. 

Burly cuts of beef are next, and this is only one of several servings of see-through slices of delicate short rib and ribeye. The bean curd comes after the beef. These porous triangles will soak up all the soup, which has become a hearty, meaty broth by now. 

After your broth has been blasted with sweet seafood and umami meat, throw in some hand-pulled noodles into the mix. These wider flat noodles cook perfectly al dente, and like the tofu, they soak up all the savory soup.

This isn't the first time I've blogged about hot pot and it certainly won't be the last. With the endless variation of ingredients and prevalence of possibilities, hot pot is the classic that never gets boring and all always remain on my radar.

China - Hawthorne Berry Sticks

When an apple and a cranberry really love each other, you get cranberry-apples 9 months later. When an apple, a cranberry, and a crabapple have a threesome, you get hawthorn berries, a crabapple-sized berry the color of a Red Delicious apple, with the crisp, juicy texture of a Granny Smith apple and the sharp tartness of a cranberry.

After hearing my description of the hawthorn triple threat, you're probably asking, "What could possibly be better than biting into a hawthorn berry?" The answer is the BingTangHuLu, or hawthorn berries on stick dipped into molten rock candy. These sticks are a solid street food all winter, and they disappear when the weather gets warm. Northern China may be miserable in winter, but I'll go back every few years just to feel that sugar crunch when I bite into one of these sticks.