Truth Coffee - Cape Town, South Africa

For all the pre-voyage jitters, all the apprehension of travelling to parts unknown to us, Cape Town ain't no thang. The vibe is chill. Chill, laid-back, make-yourself-at-home and you-do-you. The vibe is too-cool-for-school, and the street fashion has LA schooled. 

For all that chill, Cape Town runs on coffee. Or at least our neighborhood does. Not frazzled-looking, to-go cup in-hand bankers with bags under their eyes but chic city-slickers and chilling out at a counter with a properly-brewed, freshly-ground cup o' Joe. 

I can count at least three coffee shops in a 1x1 square block alone. Each carries an impressive selection, the inside an immaculate image of gleaming wooden counters.

Not a single coffee shop I've seen catches the eye quite like Truth. The dim lighting is off-putting at first, until you see the theme bulbs protrude from the ceiling, giving off a pale purple glow.

This is their steampunk theme, and they follow it to a tee. Fashionable servers are fully attired in anachronistic leather as they serve steaming Espressos in their signature Resurrection blend. 

Even the saltshakers wear corsets.

For those who prefer their sugar with coffee and cream, there is a Silky Rez that mollifies a headstrong espresso into a milkshake.

For the more adventurous, there is the unthinkable Sunrise Espresso, a hard-hitting morning martini with milk to soften the blow and orange juice to make it a bit more confusing. It is the best kind of confusing - the tart orange juice somehow meshes with the bitter espresso for a wtf wake-me-up with a strangely smooth finish.

They serve all sorts of breakfast to accompany your expressive espresso; foods that would convert even the most anti-breakfast person in the world. 

Most days, for example, the mere thought of bacon and eggs will physically make my stomach turn. The smell alone will flip my digestive system faster than an Olympic gymnast.

Truth has a Porridge for that. They soak the hearty oats in coconut cream all night so that they glide down like butter on a skillet. The creme fraiche topping grazes like a gravy, adding a touch of sour to cut through the cream. The blueberry compote adds a fruity flair, and there are chunks of homemade honeycomb that float like crispy clouds. 

For those craving something cool and light, the Grapefruit & Granola is worth a glance. Yogurt and granola make an expectedly winning combination, and acerbic grapefruit duels with the last of the summer strawberries. A pour-over shot of grapefruit juice moistens the oats so that they don't finish dry.

I'm not a breakfast person. Even an active effort only allows me to merely tolerate the most important meal of the day. That said, I "tolerated" Truth three days in a row, making a point to wake up before it opens.

Truth be told, everything on their menu is to die for, and even the Shakshuka, with all the ingredients I detest, is a dish of pure delight. The tomato stew hugs the soft baked eggs. There's a bold saltiness added by strong black olives and a chipper goat cheese contributed to the balance. 

The Croque Madame is a classic, and they make the best rendition I've had. Their bread is crusty and otherworldly, the ham wrinkles in thin yet flavor-heavy slices, cradling a sweet, grainy gruyere.

The entrees are as elaborate as they are decadent, but most days the bakery will do just as well. Each item is so rich it makes up a meal by itself.

Don't let the modest-appearing Apple Tart fool you; it is wonderfully weighty and rich. The caramelized apples sink densely into a bed of biscuit crumble, and a caramel glaze fills in the cracks.

The Lemon Meringue is a cohesive crust that barely contains a bright lemon-curd custard and a meringue, the likes of which I have never experienced. This meringue is simultaneously firm but soft, delicately determined, densely airy in formative peaks and oven-baked waves of gold. They could serve a bowl of just this meringue, and I would buy it by the pound.

Any way you slice it, Truth leaves quite an impression. The laid-back vibe is absolutely ideal for anything you choose to do, whether you're plotting to take over the world or just sitting with an espresso to watch the foam swirl. Do what you want and have what you will here. The Truth will set you free.

Cape Town, South Africa - Day 1

The theme: hiding. The sun secludes herself behind a curtain of clouds, shedding tears of prayed-for rain on a dry terrain. 

I'll never begrudge a downpour during this miserable drought, but this unsatisfying sprinkling puts a literal damper on what could have been a mountainous day. 

Scalabrini Guest House is our resting place, a comfortable, immaculate, bare-bones accommodation that rests above a lively community center.

The outside is vibrant, the inside is a peaceful repose, easy on jet-lagged eyes that refuse to close after 4 AM.

The view from the window is an urban dream. We are ready to start our day by 7 AM, and we head through a complex series of secured double doors to a coffee shop around the corner.

We sit at Truth Coffee (see next review), as we contemplate the day that lies ahead. The cable car up Table Mountain is closed, a crisis for a person who had her heart set on looking down at Cape Town, and even the hiking trail is a no-go; slippery with an impressive visibility of zero. 

Postponing Table Mountain is hardly a defeat, and it opens some doors we may have otherwise reached. The District 6 Museum, for example, is a different aerial view of Cape Town, as from the second floor balcony, a memorial mural catches the light.

A giant map covers the floor, a stunning reminder of the victims of apartheid, a tribute to the history of Cape Town, to be always remembered, to never be repeated.

The museum is a somber one by nature, but the photos and artifacts depict the mundane, the daily bliss of beautiful, well-lived, though uprooted lives. 

From civilian to military, the Castle of Good Hope comes next. An attractive structure, in a pragmatic way, the castle is still a symbol of strength,

and a concise Military Museum commemorates the accomplishments of regiments old and new. 

An educational first day for sure, a necessary day for every well-rounded vacation. It is everything I wanted to see, all I wanted to learn, eye-opening and fascinating, a preview of the captivating culture shock to come.

Orsa & Winston - Los Angeles

How can a place so loud be silent? 

The dining area is small but airy. There's a lively table of no less than twelve, but even their cheery chatter doesn't intrude on the intimacy of the modest, modern motif.

Our server is as polite as he is helpful. His wine rec leads me to a remarkable red, a glass with the boldness of a full-bodied Bordeaux that finishes with the lightness of a pretty Pinot Noir.

The amuse bouche arrives promptly, right after the wine makes a full swirl and primes an eager palate. A cratered sphere of Chawanmushi is so perfect it almost escapes my notice. The egg custard is whipped so smooth it's easy to let it slide down mindlessly except for a sour splash of wake-me-up vinegar beneath. The sour against a fishy brine makes the ikura on top really pop.

The impressions are last and at the same time, fleeting. The Kanpachi Aguachili has fish so fatty and fresh it gives a gooey tingle like toro. It enfolds creamy chunks of avocado and dances for a fleeting moment with Santa Barbara uni on top. It's a fleeting moment of indulgence, inundating your senses for a hot minute before submerging them in a chilling pool of cucumber and radish.

The Tokyo Turnip is firm in flavor and texture, a denser, flavor-compact version of the American, but it finishes sweet rather than bitter. It boosts the tender steak-like abalone and frolics with a lush fava bean and dark stinging nettle. There's a hint of sour in the barely-there buttermilk that acts like a cream to this unusual mix.

This Creamed Hope Ranch Mussels & Hokkaido Scallop is the kind of luxury I'm used to. The carrot ginger dashi is thick like a pureed bisque, and a gorgeous backdrop for a flawless scallop to soak, an  exceptional setting for an orange mussel to stew.

We get thick slices of toasted bread that hungrily soak up the broth. There is a menagerie of house-made Pickled Vegetables on the side, a colorful array of radishes, asparagus, fennel, and grapes, all meant to give you a break before the next creamy course comes down.

And it comes with a quiet clink, an ample blue plate to highlight a pale English Pea Raviolo. The pasta wrap is al dente, and a gentle knife releases a sea of sweet pea. It goos over the solid-turns-to-liquid belly of wagyu beef and spirals through the fluent layer of ricotta and Parmesan on top.

It was supposed to be roast duck, but half the fun of omakase is not knowing what you're going to get. This Roasted Iberico Pork makes a brilliant substitution. It's almost similar in texture and color, and the roasting has made the meat gamey and dark, like a halfway ham. 

The optional supplement is Foie Gras, and we said yes before the server could finish. A mountain of liver overflowing with wet fat soaks into a piece of toast over a reduction that just doesn't matter. Each bite is more decadent than the last, and we eat until we're so swept up in the flood of liver lava that we forget where we are.

A palate cleanser of koji and honey Panna Cotta puts our feet on solid ground again. The panna cotta lingers bittersweet with the koji, and frozen shavings of raspberry lend their fruity tart. Honey clings to soften the bite, and the cream clears off all the entrees gone by.

The Matcha Creme Brulee is the final curtain. Matcha takes the place of sugar, and the notes of tea bring out the florals in the cherry blossom mascarpone. A slice of orange anchors this confection, a pleasing boost of wake-up-and-drive before you get the check.

I can describe Orsa & Winston in a single word: subtle. Nothing sticks out, nothing hits you like a wall of bricks. Everything is steady, seamless, understated with hushed elegance. The Japanese restraint overrides the Italian boast, and to truly appreciate Orsa & Winston, you must be prepared to shut up, put down your phone, and look, really look...and taste. This is not the place to go for just another fancy meal, and you should find a different place to party. But if you're aching for a deep experience where you literally get a glimpse into the very soul of your food, this is the best place to spend a quiet, soul-searching night. 

Rodded Restaurant - Los Angeles

We hiked to the Hollywood Sign and back. A historical icon of Los Angeles, the starkly beautiful hillside eyesore to which we owe our fame and fortune...and we HAD to take the intermediate route. 

I've been skipping leg day longer than Brangelina have been collecting kids so this hike is turning me into an unimaginable puddle of sweat, and the cool, dry SoCal day is adding a dusty sheen. 

There's a limit to where you can eat when you're glistening with nothing good, but Rodded is casual to the core, and they're happy to put a refreshing glass of Thai Iced Tea in front of my personal dust cloud. And if it isn't the best Thai iced tea ever! They use real tea and it shows. The tea is darker and heavier, but it adds oomph and earth to a thickening sugar-milk.

Their chalkboard is as colorful as their specials, bright flavor-bursts like this cold Spicy Squid Salad. Tender calamari take on a delightful, chilly-chewy texture with a flash of Thai chili.

The Duck Noodle Soup is the dish they're known for; stewed duck so soft it's melty with crisp bean sprouts in a thinner shoyu ramen-like broth but with the gamier flavor of darker duck. Your choice between 5 different noodles, all of which are debatable-y best. The al dente egg noodles were a good call, but these noodles are like Pokemon - gotta catch 'em all. 

They also make a mean Hainan Chicken. Savory and blanched well, though the bland rice leaves you wanting. 

There's a Beef with Flat Noodles that comes with tender beef and a thicker, soy-based sauce. 

It's surprisingly different from the pad see yew-like Pad Kwuar Kai, a classic noodle stir fried with chicken and egg.

Cash only, but don't bring the Benjamins. The emergency $20 you always keep in your wallet can pay for a full meal unless you're famished. And if you're too poor to travel to Thailand, just come to Rodded Restaurant to eat like you're already there!