Catalan Mediterranean Cuisine - Rancho Mirage, CA

We walked around the building twice to find the door, a heavy handle carved out of the adobe-style wall. Keep on looking because the inside is quite the find. These walls surround an open-air courtyard, an oasis of lights against a stucco setting. 

Service is attentive, and happy hour has some solid cocktails. Sip at your own speed as you peruse a multi-page menu - it's overwhelming in the best way possible. 

We start with the Chef's Mixed Tapas Plate. Slick piquillos sail sweetly with a goat cheese cargo, and smoked chorizo has a sharp and salty spice. The shrimp are garlicky goodness, but they are a little bit dry. 

Dessert aside, my favorite dish is a side of Charred Shishitos. The portion is entree-size, and the blistered skin with salty seasoning is bliss. 

Paella is never my favorite, but their Paella Mixta has real flavor. Seafood and saffron spout some fragrance, and chicken and chorizo add a stronger savor.  

Black Spaguetti & Rock Shrimp has a real kick of chili, and the spaghetti is exactly al dente.

I came for the entrees but can't help enjoying the sweets. Catalan Caramel Cream Custard is a highlight, crusty with a moist, cake-like pudding beneath. 

Sorbet is sweet and refreshing, a sugar-lemon and red raspberry.

Chocolate Filled Spanish Churros are exactly as they sound. All the airy crunch of a churro with gooey chocolate oozing inside. 

A delightful meal and a good time for all. Lovely place, convenient location if you have errands before or after. I haven't eaten much out here, but I would gladly come back to Catalan. 

Gabi James - Redondo Beach

Gentrification is gutting Redondo Riviera, and the fancy-schmancy has a firm foothold. I don’t even keep track of the fine dining lah-di-da anymore, but a happy hour got me to Gabi James. 

They have some outdoor seating in the street, garnished by green grass and heat lamps to make it pleasant, and the experience only improves when you see their selection of spirits. A rare specialist in gin, you get to choose from a curated collection ranging from sweet to dry. I got something bold, and I would have given them a 5 on that drink alone. 

The menu is a please-all kind of deal, appetizers that look appetizing, entrees that sound enticing, accommodating all diets and desires. 

I will say that the Roasted Mushrooms were not the best start. They could have used a sprinkle of seasoning…any seasoning, though that make the quality any less clear. The mushrooms themselves were juicy, and the egg yolk was nicely done. 

Same for the Tortilla Espanola, full of soft, thin layers of perfectly scalloped potato.

A slow start with the starters, but the Jamon Wrapped Dates were right on. A really pretty plate, with gooey dates full of bold bleu in Spanish bacon. 

All Day Oxtail Ragu has been braised to melt-in-your-mouth tenderness, and I loved the contrast of a crispy trenne with all its hard edges. 

I got a bite of Paella from a sharing-is-caring friend, and I must say they made a delicious plate. A beautiful yellow sunset sprinkled with squid and shrimp…and I forgot to take a photo. 

I’ve had worse in the Rivera, and though I’ve yet to fall in love with anything new, I’ll admit, Gabi James got game. More importantly, Gabi James got gin, and I’d come back for more of what they got.

La Espanola Meats UPDATE - Torrance

This used to be my favorite weekday lunch. I would drive over on my days off when the rest of the world was at work and order a warm sandwich with slices of jamon. I'd shop around, fill a basket, check out when my sandwich was made, and go home to eat or munch on the way to the next place. Errands never tasted so good, as long I remembered to brush off the crumbs.

No more cured meats due to pregnancy, then no more anything due to covid. But despair not, they have delivery. A flat fee for each price range; the more you spend, the higher the fee. 

Dona Juana will do, but I went down the importado rabbit hole and now I am hooked. The Spanish jamon will cost you double, but the Redondo Iglesias is worth the cost. The texture is less moist, and the salinity reaches deep into the meat to draw out the natural flavors of the pork. 

Iberico Chorizo by Palacios. Every box I order has at least four. Beautifully dried, concentrated fat without the grease. Dona Juana's Chorizo Soria and Chorizo Pamplona are more moist if you prefer. 

The cheese. So much cheese. Manchego at every age, the older the nuttier, similar to most humans and pets. I always get a P'tit Basque as well. The sheep's milk has a silky-smooth finish, and this cheese ends with a pleasant, lingering pungence. 

Garnish with Marcona Almonds and Quince Paste. Their most basic paste is only $4.99, with the texture of a fruit jelly dessert and flavor like a fig married to a very sweet lemon. 

Cans of Serpis olives can be stuffed with all sorts of stuff, but I still like the blue cheese best.

When I feel safe, I'll be picking up some preorder-only paella on a Saturday, but until then it's delivery or Doordash for me. Doordash is sandwiches only so I prefer the delivery even with the fee. Plus they always throw in a few free gifts if you order on an empty stomach, with fun freebies like rose (wine) potato chips and just-add-milk packets of flan, as if their food weren't gift enough. 

A Basq Kitchen - Redondo Beach

I am so suspicious of pier restaurants. I usually avoid those top-dollar tourist traps at all costs, but we had to eat somewhere. We had other options, but A Basq Kitchen's soft sea breeze is impossible to resist...And three Asian women dining at Oriental Breeze just feels so wrong.

Yet nothing feels wrong at A Basq Kitchen, and the Traditional Basque Sampler is very right in flavor AND in price. Three hungry ladies and we were still stacking generous leftovers into boxes at the end.

The Charcuterie & Cheese Plate covers all the bases; chorizo and jamon Serrano round out the requisite meats while manchego schmoozes with bleu and brie.

Piperada Vasca is a sippable stew, hot contrasts cold as pulpy, earthy peppers mix with a topcoat of cold-cure, chewy jamon. Break it up with plump House-Marinated Olives when the stew gets too heavy.

The Basque stew is surprisingly deep, a heavy daily special with meaty chunks. The Potatoes Bravas are an aside, home fries in a mayo-esque sauce. Just don't fill up on the potatoes of you'll neglect the triangle sandwiches of Tortilla Vasca Pintxo in the back.

So many tapas, so little time. It made sense to split the sampler that night, but we dallied over much of the menu, especially those Spanish classics like paella, pulpo, and bacon-wrapped dates. The sampler was a fair sample, but it would only be fair to sample some more.

Baco Mercat - Los Angeles

A friend of a friend once asked me where I lived, and I told her Redondo Beach. "Oh," she said. An indifferent shrug rolled off her shoulders and traveled upward, flowing through her face, ending in a wrinkled, upturned nose. She adjusted the top two layers of her intentionally-oversized boyfriend-cardigan over her intentionally-ill-fitting boyfriend button down over as they fell off her shoulders yet again. "I don't even know where anything IS outside of LA."

I think that girl lives at Baco Mercat. Or in one of the many well-known, high-end renters of this remarkable complex. The affordable valet combats the scarcity of street parking, the exposed pipes justify the role of ill-fitting hipster clothes in fine dining, and the creative list of cocktails is all sorts of wet n' wild. The soul of LA shines through every orifice, ritzy masquerading as shabby-chic, ego and attitude with not enough cred to back it up.

To be fair, Baco Mercat doesn't just please LA snobs like my new fre-nemy described above. The ingredients are quality, and the place holds some charm despite the clientele. Or maybe that's just the cocktails talking.

We are off to a good start, however, with Octopus & Crispy Pork Belly. The combination is unexpected, but the octopus is perfect, the pork belly is crispy fat juice, and I love every separate bite with sweet pear and a cool vinaigrette. A somewhat dissonant combination at a smaller portion, but not unappreciated, and quality trumps quantity any day.

The Caramelized Cauliflower is not so good. There is a LOT of acid, and it turns the whole dish sour. The cauliflower itself lacks the softer texture expected with caramelization, and acid aside, it has no other detectable flavors.

Lesson learned: stick to the namesake dish. The Toron sounds like just a glorified sandwich wrapped in flatbread, but it's so much more than that. The baco bulges with mollescent oxtail, savory and slick. Soft, melty cheese with a twang of horseradish yogurt rounds out all the flavors for a flatbread full of fabulous.

I was really excited about the Lamb Riblets. It sounded creative, and I haven't seen anything similar anywhere else. That might be because it's a dish that just shouldn't be served. At a whopping price of $25, the "jerk" sauce was a punch to the palate. Inedibly salty and strangely bitter, all lamb lost under a muddy swamp. It felt like a jerk was stomping across my taste buds in steel-toe boots, and my eyes actually watered with the first bite.

The food is 50-50, but the service is 100% infallible. We sent the riblets back and were met with a genuine apology. We were offered a do-over in the form of a re-attempt or a whole new dish, both of which we declined. Still, it was really nice of them to ask.

We skipped to the Harry's Berries Crostada dessert, no longer willing to flip a coin with small plates and sides. The crust is buttery, flaky and dense, among the best I've ever had. The ripe berries are farmer's-market fresh, and their tartness tangoes with a creamy vanilla gelat.

Baco had potential, but I remain displeased. It's clear that someone there can cook, but they cook neither consistently nor impressively enough to atone for the fatal flaws. I may be just a girl from NOT LA, but at least I know when LA isn't worth visiting.

Mediterraneo UPDATE - Hermosa Beach

I think the concept of New Year's resolutions was designed by Asian moms. I can't see all those supportive American parents with reasonable standards encouraging their children to start every year with an enumeration of all their unobtainable goals.

This year I was determined to win this impossible game. I made perfectly reasonable resolutions, and I planned obtain them all. I was on a mission, and my certain success would taste as intensely satifying as the briny-bittersweet Boquerones Pintxo when all this was done. The white anchovies are a bludgeon of salty, briny self-criticism, softened by sour piquillos against a tart and sweet dried cherry salsa.

I started with a realistic goal: to squander less and save more. I vowed to cook at home, even indulging in high-end ingredients because at the end of the day, even those are cheaper than a chef. Oh wait, I can't make these Moroccan Prawns. I don't have a grill for the shrimp, and there's no way I can right the ratio of tumeric, ginger, paprika, and cumin. And how could I possibly add a dry curry on top without turning the shrimp to silica?

I've made Pork Belly before, but who has time to braise? I barely have one hour at home, never mind the four hours it takes to wait for the fat to go soft. I can sprinkly some gorgonzola on top, but I have no idea what the heck is date mostarda? No idea, but it needs to be there to buffer the honey and cheese. Oh well, guess I won't be cooking...

I also resolved to floss more, especially when shreds of Sauteed Lollipop Kale are lodged between my molars. It's not easy having a green smile and garlic breath, but it's worth the crisp bitterness with a brash dash of lemon and vinegar. Maybe if I keep eating out, I can at least keep my flossing resolution...

Along the lines of flossing, I vowed to take better care of myself. I dedicated my career to helping others, and it's about time I worked on number one. I'll have no problem sticking to monthly threading, and if I eat out less I can pay people to coat my nails with gel. But wait, I'm still eating out...

Part of taking care of myself includes eating healthy, and the Gelato Sandwich already set me back three months. Salted caramel gelato so thick it's practically custard between a sticky sandwich of oatmeal cookies loaded with ooey-gooey dates.

Okay, so 1.5 resolutions I can stick too isn't bad. I propose a toast to my efforts at self-improvement. I raise a bowl of Drunken Summer Fruit, a very-berry concoction of delusionally-healthy fruit in cream, drowned by Grand Marnier. So perfect, so simple - maybe I can make this one at home and keep my first resolution...

All that food down the hatch, all those resolutions down the toilet. Eating healthy does NOT equal eating well, and I'm clearly giving into my inner glutton. But hey, have faith - at least I'll start flossing after dessert...