Gwen - Los Angeles

Where do you take the man you love for his birthday? To a house of meat. A meat-house. No way this will fail. 

Gwen doesn't fail. Gwen can't fail. Prime butcher cuts of meat, expertly sliced and diced, a Charcuterie so good I forget to take a photo. A tender, lighter ham, a firm and fatty duck speck, a plush and salty salami spread, and a trio of sausages sliced thin, each with its own unique signature of savor. The fouetté is lighter with garlic and white wine, the Spanish chorizo has some spunk. The pork and fennel is gentle, and every bite just makes me mental. 

For a light surf n' turf warm-up, the Oysters are worth a gander.

We're in a meaty mood, and the Bone-in Ribeye is 34 ounces of heaven. Each bite melts in your mouth, and there's so much fat it could be a low-grade wagyu. Then again, foraging for an edible bite isn't very fun: two of those slices were just fat and the bone makes up quite a bit of the weight.

There's a side of Roasted Beets that I thought would cut through all the fat, but I'm not a fan. It's a lighter, silky root vegetable by nature, but they drown it in horseradish cream which leaves a bitter aftertaste.

There's a Panna Cotta for a little more aftertaste. A smear with much more cream than jelly, a cold, almost sweetmilk that takes me back a tiny town in Tuscany ten years ago. The panna cotta there tasted like this, and this is the first time I’ve tasted it again. They add their own special touch, with a streak of caramel and a refreshing uplift of apple. 

Little extras from the kitchen: a Lychee Dragee, a sweet fruit jelly and a Macadamia Nut Truffle with a chocolate crunch. 

I like Gwen. I don't love Gwen, but I like it. If you want a slab of meat that's guaranteed to be good, Gwen is a guarantee. I'm not sure how their seafood is, but I don't see a point in trying things they don't specialize in, especially not after those beets. Great steak and glamorous dining. Fun cocktails, good service. Bring a parent or a more conservative guest with a cautious palate and they'll love you forever, guaranteed. 

Belcampo Meat Co. - Santa Monica

I almost feel guilty about bashing LA restaurants in my last two reviews. The truth is, not everything in LA is bad. It's just that my mind rebels against the feigned minimalist approach when it supposedly justifies why my meal is served with a side of sloppiness and an air of carelessness considering how much I've paid.

But some places are worth paying for, and sometimes, even splurgy Santa Monica meets my standards.  

Despite embodying LA's casual-beyond-compare ambiance, Belcampo is one such place. The decor is simple and sleek, and the dishes are fuss-free yet detailed. We started small with Tallow Chips & Taleggio, buy even basic chips & dip have character here. The chips are savory like no chip you've ever had, and the cheese is like a riper fondue. Thanks a lot, Belcampo. Now I can never pop Pringles again.

After an appetizer of fat-infused chips, we really get to the meat of the matter. The Grilled Beef Heart is sumptuously-seared an angry red. Looking rough-and-tough yet soft, tender, and utterly unforgettable. 

Every meal needs balance, and it looks like Belcampo doesn't just do meat. The side of Roasted Brussels Sprouts is served pretty traditionally, but the crumbly house chorizo really adds to the bitter flavor, and a hint of tequila rounds out the theme.

The menu has a whole section just for tartare, and the gamey Goat Tartare has me bidding tar-tare to my preference for having my meat cooked. The kick of chile is just enough to linger, and the lightest hint of lime makes heavy meat easy to stomach.

The Beef Tartare is a classic except it's not. I thought they had lost their minds by adding smoked oysters, but they highlight the silky beef, and the yolk binds it all together with a slightly sticky membrane that makes you moan for more.

Belcampo didn't just meet my standards; I actually left feeling impressed. The intentionally casual back-of-a-butcher shop setting makes sense when your specialty is meat, and Belcampo serves the kind of quality that comes wrapped up in paper and tied up with string.

I still can't say I'm a fan of Santa Monica, but every bite at Belcampo feels like a gift. I always say I'd go anywhere and pay any amount for a good meal, and at Belcampo, I'll even shell out for valet.

Bona Fide Butcher Shop - Boston

After placing my own head on the chopping block at various intervals of the cut-throat specialty of Ob/Gyn, it is only appropriate that I visit the Butcher Shop to confirm my newly acquired ability to sympathize with the food. Upon arrival, I found the clever use of butcher paper in lieu of tablecloths comically appropriate for my present situation. Plus the restaurant-wide theme of high tables with comfy barstools compelled me to mirthfully mingle with a glass of wine. And their extensive wine list wasn’t exactly discouraging…There’s bound to be a Bordeaux lying in wait.

Country comedian Rodney Carrington once crooned “I like my women like I like my chicken, with a little bit of fat on the ends.” Clearly, even the (self-proclaimed) rednecks know the secret behind pate…(and in light of my recent weight gain, I’m hoping the men in my life agree with the rednecks)…

My friend and I tried 3 of the house-made pates via the Petite Charcuterie. The lamb pate was shreddy but smooth, not really spreadable but close enough. And close enough is close enough for most things in life…except maybe condoms… Not a fan of the ham and parsley en croute. It’s good ham but in the end, it’s just ham. I’m also ambiguous about most things en croute – the loaf is too sweet, and I vaguely recall it obscuring the flavor of the Gamebird pate. To be fair, the extra crust added an interesting layer of much-needed flavor and texture to the humble ham. As for the duck liver mousse, there’s really nothing regrettable about duck liver mousse…Ever. Interestingly, this one’s texture was partially pureed, which my friend speculated was what the French feed their babies. Clearly, French babies don’t know how good they have it!

When it was time to serve entrees, the Merguez was served with a set of brass balls. It takes a good set to serve a sausage naked for scrutiny, with no bun to hide behind, no toppings to lurk beneath. The only accompaniment to this lusciously lamby masterpiece was the equally baller smoked tomato (ok fine, no more ball jokes)... The permeating smokiness enhances the sweetness of the tomato, and the sweetness neutralizes the saltiness of the sausage. Meredith Grey once said to Derek Shepard amidst a field of burning candles, “We should be extraordinary together instead of ordinary apart.” Except there was nothing ordinary about either, even apart. Still not sure where/how the border of boquerones fits in...

The Boeuf Bourguignon is a feast of marvelously marbled beef in thick gravy - props for thick gravy that doesn’t taste like a pound of flour. The crostini island in the center soaks up the gravy but is just toasted enough to add a satisfying crunch. The poached egg could have been runnier, but again, close enough.

Don’t be fooled by the veggies that I got, I’m still, I’m still all about the Shop…And let me tell you right now, my loyalty to meat goes way deeper than that of “Jenny” I’ll-sing-bad-lyrics-shamelessly-to-sell-CDs Lopez…Ok, no more star bashing, Rodney, “Jenny”, I’ll send you some pate.