Nouilles of 3rds UPDATE - Lomita

Most people don’t know this, but I am indebted to Nouilles of 3rds. Because pregnancy also comes in thirds, and I wouldn't have made it through the first third if I didn't have Nouilles of 3rds. 

During first trimester, I was one of the “lucky” ones. No nausea or vomiting, but I had my own equivalent; fatigue and a complete lack of appetite so severe I could barely force feed myself a single banana.

Everyone finds a food they can handle, and for me it was the House Noodle Soup. Almost once a week, I'd muster all my strength to get into the car for almost a full bowl of noodle soup. The beef broth is full of flavor and savor, rich without being too fatty or thick. That giant bone that's full of marrow adds extra layers of depth, and the rice noodles are always cooked just right. And Nouilles of 3rds was extra kind. I just don't love their meatballs,and when I would ask to substitute the meatball for extra tendon, they loaded it up without batting an eye, and I would get a bowl so full of tendon that I would catch a bit of it every time I dipped my spoon.

I had to know if I loved that soup just because I was pregnant or because I just love that soup so I ordered that soup again. I just love that soup. It's just as good today as it was all those other days, though it may be even better without the progesterone to screw with my system.

They make other dishes too, Cambodian/Asian staples from the south if you're looking for less liquid. They make a good Hainan Chicken, for example, a deceptively difficult dish. The chicken is tender with none of the sliminess that sneaks in when chicken is poached. The ginger dip is strong and stings in a way that is hard-hitting without being a full-on assault. The garlic rice is just right, made in a broth with a little edge. 

The Beef Loc Lac is juicy little bits, tiny bites sautéed with a sweeter soy. It’s not my favorite thing only because I like the chicken better. 

I think I’ve had everything on the menu now, and I have yet to find something that doesn't make me smile. In a pandemic world where there is less and less reason to smile, at least I'll be smiling about the soup.

Nouilles of 3rds - Lomita

Cambodian comfort north of Long Beach and it awaits at Nouilles of 3rds. The location is authentic enough, so the food must be close. Good luck finding the shopping center, and if you have to take a left across PCH at rush hour, their food that may be to die for...literally.

I'm really not into meatballs. A ball of mystery meat, no thanks, but I do love the Street Meatballs here. The tendon softens the more rubbery texture of the beef, and I love the savory flavor that drips juice from inside a crispy crust. The sharp garlic oil and sweet chili sauce are great embellishments, and they get your fingers sticky. 

Nouilles is French for noodles, and the Bah-Bong Noodles are comfort to the max. The chicken is tender and the egg rolls are bomb. Rice noodles are al dente, and the veggie mix meshes with coconut cream.The hubby says it tastes like Cambodia and he would know. 

The No3 House Noodles Soup. Impossible to find good pho in the South Bay, but this iteration makes a savory soup all the same. The prime beef does taste prime, and the beef bone marrow is the absolute best part. Tendon is tender, beef balls are baller, and I prefer the rice noodles over egg.

This is how Asian food should be. Nothing flashy, nothing fancy or gourmet, just good stuff made well, bowls of soup and steaming noodles cooked in the heart of a heartland fire. Nouilles of 3rds won't be rising to widespread acclaim anytime soon. They seem to have lost their website too,  but I like that they keep their profile low. I'd rather not wait in line every time I crave their noodles, and I predict I will crave them fairly often.

Hak Heang - Long Beach

The search for a rehearsal dinner venue continues. Little Cambodia has the best food, and Hak Heang has a fabulously Asian banquet hall, complete with a decorated stage and microphone. 

The food is as authentic as it gets. They don't shy away from serving the stuff that scares white people, and I'm loving the Fried Pig Intestines, clean rings of fat that taste like meat-oil. The sweet bed of pickled cabbage is a cool-down from the hot n' fried, and both go well with rice.

I'm told you can't eat Cambodian without ordering a plate of Lok Lak. They're tender cubes of beef sauteed in coverlet of viscous soy. Salty and heavy, with a dipping sauce the lightens with lime and brightens with perky black pepper.

The side of comfort-food Beef Soup seems to come standard with so many meals, and this one finishes somewhat sweet. They give it away like it grows on trees, but it's too good to be free. The mouth-watering MSG hugs the unbelievably soft chunks of meat is as it falls off the giant soup bones. 

Those rice plates and soup are impossibly cheap, but seafood never is. Thirty dollars seems pretty pricey for a Salt and Pepper Crab, but it's a sizeable crab with a lot of meat in the middle. It's super-salty and greasy as sin, but it's irresistible. 

Love the authentic element, but it's a no-go for a rehearsal dinner. It's too hard to get all the family out here, and the neighborhood will only get more sketchy at night. On the inside, Hak Heang is almost perfect. Service can be a bit spotty, but it's decent for an authentic Asian restaurant, and the food is delicious and criminally cheap. If only we could find a Hak Heang in a more accessible place!

Phnom Penh Noodle Shack - Long Beach

Long Beach. Synonymous with shipping crates, industrial cranes, a port city, and airport. For me, Long Beach is where I'll take the official first steps towards the rest of my life, and as the madness of wedding planning intensifies, my car goes more and more frequently south on the PCH. 

Meeting with vendors is supposed to be stressful, but the professional yet laid-back caterers have made it a little more fun. But nothing, even planning my own wedding, is half as exciting as trying new restaurants, some of which must be SoCal's best kept secrets.

Like Little Cambodia. So little it's barely on the map, a minuscule two-block radius of holes-in-the-wall. Phnom Penh, a barely-there noodle house, is one a little hole on the block, casual tables surrounded by suburbia and half a kitchen abutting the dining room. 

There are so many Asian men lunching on a random Thursday afternoon, filling all but a couple tables, speaking in fluent French. It must be authentic if this is the clientele, and to be this full, it must be good. 

It is not good, it is great right out of the gate. The flaky-fried Knom Sakieu to start, a giant dumpling-turnover-meat-pie hybrid, pastry-esque shell spilling forth dynamic spices of seasoned ground meat. Even better with a dab of sweet hot sauce.

I do exactly what the server says because, well...she would know. She's right on with the Phnom Penh Noodle, the house special. Slim, soft rice noodles cradle all sorts of pork. Different textures of chewy stomach, grainy grounds, bilious liver, and lean meaty slices go well with tender shrimp. Getting it dry adds worthwhile work - the noodles won't go soggy when they're dipped in the big-bone broth.

Same broth in the Mekala, which is a little more well-rounded, and a lot more green. Slices of regular pork mix with lettuce, cucumber, bean sprouts, and pickled cabbage, cooled down with a pop of mint. Eggs add some protein, peanuts add crunch, and their house-made fish sauce adds a new, refreshing angle to the mix.

I have yet to find something I don't like about Long Beach. The food is affordable and adorable, the restaurants are fun, and the prices are fair. Phnom Penh is my first taste of Little Cambodia, and I wish I hadn't waited so long. There is more to explore, and maybe, just maybe, there will be a Cambodian rehearsal dinner in my future...

Walk the Walk at Elephant Walk – Boston

es, I am starting this review with a photo of my chest. Don’t worry, there’s not much to see. Now, if you’ll just get over the initial shock, you’ll see that the pendant around my neck is an elephant and serves as a literal commemoration of my visit to Elephant Walk. Elephant Walk, a nondescript brick building housing a nondescript ambiance of dimmed lights and two-tops is located in Boston’s gray area of St. Mary’s Street and Beacon that is neither Brookline nor Allston nor Kenmore. Sadly, the only non-literal things about this restaurant are its location and its name. Then again, all elephants are gray so maybe just one non-literal thing…

I pause my literal tirade to compliment the bread, which was the only thing remotely close to fusion – sad because it’s the fusing of cultures, not the fusing of food. It seems that when you combine two cultures that are conquers of carbs, the end result is a powerfully good loaf of bread. Aside from the bread, the menu at Elephant Walk is as literal as my necklace. There is Cambodian and there is French. You may choose the Cambodian or you may choose the French. That is all.

Our meal started with the vegetarian Rouleaux – traditional Cambodian spring rolls with a French name. I named them magnifique and that’s all that matters. The spring rolls were a little greasier than I would have liked, but the tasty veggie filling wrapped in a fresh basil leaf with a sweet dipping sauce “fused” into what was probably the best spring roll I’ve ever had. Literally.

The veggie entrée was so unremarkable I literally don’t remember what it was. And allow me to remind you that I forget men’s names faster than I forget food names…(Think back to med school orientation: “ANSHUL! For the third time, my name is ANSHUL!!!”) I think it was the Tofu Citronnelle but don’t quote me on that…It certainly wasn’t Anshul… Another French name for French-fried tofu with a slightly spicy, glorified sweet & sour sauce, a stirfry I literally could have made at home for far less than the outrageous $17 they had the nerve to charge.

I rarely comment on the price of things, but my Khar Saiko Kroeung was equally overpriced. And equally literal. The menu described a braised boneless shortrib, jasmine rice, and a cucumber garnish. And there it was. As you see by the photo, it is literally slabs of shortrib with a pretty mold of rice. The scallion oil was a nice touch, but it was really just rice and meat with a few slices of cool cukes. To be fair, the meat was flavorful and perfectly braised, but $18.95 should at least buy me cooked cukes...

Overall, Elephant Walk is a place of literally good food, a testament to their ability to survive in a neighborhood replete with students whose loans make upscale dining and exorbitant pricing a rarity. The food is indeed well-made, and the amazing flavor and tenderness of my shortrib is undeniable, but what you see is what you get. On the upside, the menu will talk the talk and the chef will walk the walk, but I will have to have exhausted all my options before I walk back into Elephant Walk.