Oui to Weho Bistro – West Hollywood

When it was suggested that we brunch at Weho, it was more like We-who. I was none too thrilled about a baguette-baking brunch spot bold enough to declare itself West Hollywood’s favorite bistro. But when said bistro offers private parking and outdoor dining in sunny SoCal, I had nothing to say an enthusiastic “Oui!” to Weho.

The brunch items looked pretty solid but pretty generic, so my enthusiastic “oui” became a little more lowercase. Then out came the bread, a demi demi-baguette that rivaled the boulangeries of France, and suddenly I knew there was more to Weho than meets the menu.

The Luberon Crepe may sound like a simple shell of scrambled eggs, bacon, and Swiss, but the eggs are impossibly fluffy and even airier than the crepe. The bacon graces the crepe to add just a subtle hint of savor, and the absolutely perfect balance of light eggs, slightly sweet crepe, salty bacon, and savory Swiss is a definite “OUI”.

I’ve never seen a Breakfast Quesadilla feature lamb, and apparently I’ve been missing out. I was afraid that the lamb would be too overpowering for an egg-and-veggie quesadilla, but I ate my words…in embarrassingly large bites. The lamb was prepared in a way that made it resemble a slightly gamier carne asada. Steak and eggs belong together, and the veggies and salsa provided a cooler contrast.

It’s hard to get noticed in Hollywood. The shadow of an iconic sign serves as constant reminder of how we are too small to be larger-than-life. In a world where everyone seeks fame and fortune and talent is a dime-a-dozen, Weho’s mastery of food is well worth every dime. In a place known for its literal smoke and mirrors, Weho lets its skill speak for itself, and what a significant statement it has made. So let’s keep my statement simple and just say that we heart Weho and after one bite, so will you.

Small Space at Shikibu Sushi - Culver City

You can’t marry someone you just met. You can’t go to Shikibu with someone you just met either. Consider yourself warned. Shikibu may be a sweet little hole in the wall, but believe me, as appealing as intimacy sounds, you don’t want to get to know someone in a restaurant that only seats six unless you’re prepared to have every second of silence amplified for your awkward squirming pleasure.

The good news is, there’s nothing like sushi to break the silence, or at least make silence socially acceptable while you chew. And this sushi comes with a rather lengthy, detailed list of instructions on how to spray your sushi with their handy soy sauce pumps so that you don’t destroy the wasabi by mixing the two. If you read this detailed list with your date, you can keep the awkward at bay while showing off your ability to read.

Complicated soy sauce aside, Shikibu’s sushi is about as simple and minimalist as it gets. No weird combinations, no monstrous rolls crammed full of fruit with five kinds of fish. But this sushi has nothing to hide behind, and every bite is a brilliant reminder of why we love all the simple kinds of sushi.

The Toro Maki is as it says. A roll of seaweed and rice, full of soft, fatty bites of belly. The fat is so rich it release a  small flavor-blast with every chew.

The Fresh Scallop Roll is so slick it slides right down. The slightly grainy texture of the rice gives it a little traction and brings out the tiniest hint of brine.

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The Caterpillar Roll is smooth, sweet, and standard; ripe avocado with a flaky, never-rubbery, fresh-cooked eel.

The basic rolls are amazing, but the Ultimate Tiger is a pretty epic mix. Salmon and avocado topped with melt-in-your-mouth pan-kissed salmon sounds so simple, but my reaction to eating it was not. Though it may have been uncomfortably excessive…

Despite being able to see every square inch of the restaurant no matter where you stand, Shikibu can still surprise me. They only use brown rice for the sushi, the texture of which I thought I despised. But Shikibu makes it cohesive and smooth without being mushy or hard, and it adds a savory-grain to amp up some of the more standard rolls.

I know I said not to come to Shikibu with someone you just met, but it’s a great idea to come if you’re lonely. Not only will you knock knees while trying to wiggle onto the narrowly high barstools while playing peekabo with the sushi chef behind the bar, you’ll be privy to any and every intimate detail of all the conversation around you. You won’t know anyone at the beginning of your meal, but you’ll feel like you know them by the end.

Justifiying Japonica - Redondo Beach

I really didn’t want people to know that I was having sushi for the third night in a row, and Japonica was the perfect place to hide. The dining area looks almost like the hallway of a high-end massage parlor, where wooden slats partly conceal the booths on either side. The tables aren't actually well-hidden, so you won’t get accosted by a ninja, but I definitely didn’t mind feeling like no one saw me binge…again.

I have no justification for why I would need to eat sushi for three nights in a row, but I’m totally okay with confessing to this piping hot plate of steamed, slightly-salted Shishitos. Vegetables have no calories, right?

Nothing accompanies sushi better than a Sake Flight, and nothing accompanies (and eradicates) a binger’s guilt like a generous pour.

The Ginjo Sake is light and smooth, what you'd expect when you think of sake. Neither too sweet nor too fruity, this one highlights the sweetness of the Eel Avocado Roll...

And enhances the tuna jalapeno of the Crispy Rice.

The Daiginjo Sake is the sweetest thing, and every sugary sip brings out the sweet-tart slices atop the Salmon Lemon Roll.

The Junmai sake is described as "robust", but its sharp taste is reminiscent of briny west coast oysters on my tongue. Pair it with the Spicy Scallop Roll and savor the seafood flavor.

Aside from the pretty dining room and intimate ambiance, Japonica's sushi makes a strong showing, with fresh fish and rolls with just enough pizzazz to not be boring. I know I shouldn't binge quite as much as I do, but let's just say that Japonica was very well-justified. 

Feeling 555 East – Long Beach

Sometimes my guy friends tell me that there’s a beer-guzzling, beater-wearing, cursing-at-the-TV-during-basketball-games guy hiding under this adorable Asian exterior. Okay, fine, they didn’t say adorable, but the a-word they used isn’t appropriate for the internet.

They couldn’t be more wrong. I swing from the silks, figure skating is my favorite pastime, and I take my tea with my pinky curled.

I ate my freshly fried Calamari like a lady, one crunchy little piece at a time.

But put me in front of a Ribeye glowing in all its glory, and all the girly goes away. Forget the prettier points of fine dining; I’m ripping into it even though it barely needs a knife to cut. The juices are dripping, and the marbled fat glistens like a gem, but I’m too busy savoring to bother with a napkin, and there’s nothing a stain stick can’t wash off my sleeves.

The New York Strip Steak is harder to swallow, but it doesn’t slow me down. There are no ladylike bites and no ginger, nibbling chews. It’s a little leaner but I’m meaner, and every beefy bite is bliss. The side Garlic Mashed Potatoes is smooth, starch that slides like a sieve, and the Creamed Spinach is even better.

The Filet Mignon is the sweet spot of the cow. It’s tender, it melts in your mouth, and you can probably slice with a spoon. You’re probably cringing at the thought of me tearing through the tender tidbits, but don’t worry, I only tried a couple bites. The filet mignon requires a more delicate approach than mine, and it was safe in the gentle hands of… Jason.

My friends were wrong when they said I was more like a man, but now I think they might be on to something. I might have eaten my steak with all my fingers curled up to avoid mangling my new lilac manicure, but 555 East definitely put some hair on my chest. The classiest, most refined, and most expensive (but fairly-priced) of all chest hair, but chest hair all the same.

Ramen Hayatemaru – Torrance

I’ve talked about ramen from a bowl, and I’ve talked about ramen from a bag. The one thing I haven’t talked about is ramen from a bottle. 

If you’re into drinking soy sauce straight from the bottle, the Hokkaido Shoyu Ramen is the way to go. There’s so much soy sauce in this murky, disaster-of-a-bowl that you can’t taste anything else, including the savory Hokkaido broth. This stuff is truly for tourists. #stuffwhitepeoplelike

One spoonful of shoyu had me gagging, but the Hokkaido Ramen washed down the nastiness. This rich, thick liquid-pork is as authentic as it gets and definitely one of the best I’ve had. It may be too oily for people who aren’t used to it, but let’s just say this Asian has never had better. #stuffasianpeoplelike

Imagine the worst bowl of ramen ever, i.e. the shoyu. Now imagine the exact opposite of that and you have the Spicy Miso Ramen. The broth is thick with a seamless blend of fine grains of miso and spicy oil so smooth you’d think it came together. Sorry Santouka, I never thought I’d find a better spicy miso, but I think your time is up. #stuffallpeoplelike