Musha Mash-Up – Torrance

The iconic Forrest Gump once uttered an even more iconic quote, “Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you’re going to get.” If you think about it, this quote is more idiotic than iconic, and IMHO, the movie is too. You really don’t know what you’ll get out of life, but a box of chocolates comes with a pretty detailed description, and if you truly have no idea that there will be something with nuts inside, you’re an idiot.

I’ve been feeling that way about menus lately. I’ve been finding them floridly formulaic, with no elements of surprise behind their detailed descriptions of solid but standard staples. Some things are made well, but individual spin seems significantly sparse.

As predicted, the Musha’s menu had its staples. The Ahi Poke, for example, featured tender chunks of tuna in an expectedly soy-dominant ponzu sauce. The side of rice cakes in lieu of chips provided a fun little crunch.

The Buta Kakuni was, as described, pork belly with potato and egg, but it wasn’t exactly a Russell Stover sampler from the local CVS. The pork belly was melt-in-your-mouth soft, and the sauce was unexpectedly both savory and sweet. Even the potato soaked in every ounce of flavor for bite after delicious bite.

The Itame Somen seemed pretty straightforward. Angel hair pasta pan fried with garlic, sesame oil, garlic chive, sake, and soy sauce was a pretty straightforward combination of Asian flavors, but together and in the perfect proportions, it was like the Godiva of noodles.

If the itame somen was Godiva, then the Tarako Kim Chee Udon was straight out of Willy Wonka in the books. I love al dente udon noodles, and when coated with butter and pollack caviar, the caviar creates a savory seafood explosion.

The noodles didn’t disappoint, however the Scallop Dynamite wasn’t quite as explosive as I’d expected. Despite all the pageantry of burning the sauce with a bar torch, there was a literal lack of substance in this dish. The juicy scallops were the size of a dime, and there should have been something more to soak up the spicy mayo.

The Roasted Maple Leaf Duck Breast was a lot more successful at soaking up the sauce. I was pleasantly surprised when I bit into a cold, juicy, lightly-marinated slice of duck instead of the Peking-style roast duck I had come to expect.

I’ll be honest. I didn’t expect much from Musha’s menu, but give me some credit. A tiny Japanese tapas-esque bar in a suburban strip mall didn’t look very promising, but like pretty much every other dish I tried, the Baguette Gratin had me eating my words, one cynical thought at a time. You wouldn’t think a plain baguette stuffed with bay scallops, white sauce, and melted cheese could be so good. But the menu does promise that it (and pretty much every other dish I had) “will make you so happy”, and the constant party in my mouth definitely did not disprove.

When the movie Forrest Gump came to its adorable end, there wasn't a dry eye in the theater aside from mine. Sure, he finally settled down with his love, but considering she was wasting away from the price she paid for so many years of promiscuity, you had to savor both the bland and the bittersweet, much like the Black Sesame Ice Cream and even more like the end of an amazing meal at Musha. The one time I saw Forrest Gump was the last time I will ever see Forrest Gump, but Forrest never lost his obsession with Jenny and they were together at the end so I can't wait to see the end of my obsession with Musha.

Tacos Punta Cabras - Santa Monica

I grew up poor and it sucked. Money buys you options, and poor people are pretty limited when it comes to food. My family was the poorest of the poor during my earlier years. Meat was a garnish, McDonald's was a monthly treat, and we carried our swear jar through the grocery aisles every week. 

It sucked to be poor in Providence, Rhode Island, but at least we were one family among the many. It's not so easy to be poor in Santa Monica, where what you don't have is flagrantly flaunted by the rich, the famous, and the rich and famous.

Just when you think you've lost all hope of eating affordably well in Santa Monica, you stumble upon a hidden gem like Tacos Puntas Cabras. For just $5, the Scallop Tostada, a fresh ceviche of tender bay scallops covering a plate-sized chip, is a light lunch in itself. The Fish Taco has a generous giving of lightly battered chunks of fresh fish for far less, and the Shrimp Taco features jumbo prawns at just $3.50 a pop. 

I ate well growing up because my mother could make anything taste good, and now that I'm on my own, I have Tacos Punta Cabras to hold me over. Less than $5 will buy me seafood I shouldn't be able to afford, and if you didn't tell me how little they cost, I would have thought I was having happy hour on the pier. I don't know how they keep up this kind of quality at that kind of price, but give it a try if you're poor and struggling like me. This kind of food will fill you up, and it just might give you some hope to boot.

Splitting the Spoils at Bao Dim Sum House - Los Angeles

When I say I'm an only child, people automatically assume that I don't share. I wish people wouldn't be so eager to jump to conclusions or so quick to judge. I share things I don't like all the time.

I can share bad food with anyone, anywhere, it's the good food I have trouble with. And if, like me, you have yet to learn to share good food then dim sum is not the meal for you.

Sharing the Pork and Shrimp Shumai wasn't so hard though. I'm usually pretty indifferent because they tend to be too dense and pork-heavy, but these open-face dumplings have a good pork-to-shrimp ratio, which lightens it up a bit. Still, I'm happy to let someone else have the other two. 

The Crystal Shrimp Dumplings are a bit harder to split. My all-time favorite hargow have a huge, perfectly chewy, crystal-clear wrapper with a delicious ball of shrimp inside. 

Sharing the shrimp was hard enough, but sharing the Juicy Pork Dumplings gave me anaphylaxis. These little flavor-bombs may not have 18 folds, but the soup is so savory it's almost sweet, and the flavor is fuller than anything Din Tai Fung ever made.

When you're not into sharing, dim sum really forces your hand. Why else would so many things come in threes? Good thing I was full by the time we got the Bao Milk Bun or there might have been a cat-fight for the last of these soft, sweetly-crusted rolls filled with an even sweeter condensed milk.

I struggled with the milk buns, but I gave away the Spicy Shrimp Dumplings readily. These huge balls of slightly spicy shrimp tastes like someone from Szechuan married a Cajun cook, but they weren't exactly changing my life.

I would have shared every Tofu Skin Roll with Shrimp and Chicken with anything that had a mouth. Far as tofu skin rolls go, this one just didn't have a whole lot of flavor. It wasn't bad but I've had better.

I think every ounce of flavor the tofu skin rolls lacked went straight to the Wild Crab and Shrimp Dumplings. One bite of this savory seafood sack in a chewy crystal wrapper, and there was no way I was sharing a single bite of these chunks of juicy shrimp and succulent shreds of fresh-caught crab. I'll never bite the hand that feeds me, but I will stab the hand that tries to take my dumpling.

I don't get who, in a country where everyone is an only child, came up with the idea of a meal everyone has to share. At least Bao makes it a littler easier. The price may be twice what you'd normally pay, but each item is about 4 times the size. I may not like to share my dim sum, but it's not so hard to share my dim sum on steroids. And if it's dim sum at Bao I'm sharing, I'll share with just about anyone if it means I get to go to Bao.

Reeled in by Turquoise Restaurant – Redondo Beach

I usually don’t care what a restaurant is called. You could name it Poop as long as the quality (and content!) of the food isn’t reflective of the name. But Turquoise is the color of the Mediterranean from which this food hails, and with a name like that, the restaurant just has to be classy all the way.

Turquoise lives up to its name with vibrant walls of beautiful art, and so did my Grilled Salmon Pesto Panini. Any panini with a name like that is obviously going to be mind blowing, and this one was out of this world. The wild Scottish salmon is softly seared. The flavor is fresh and pure, with basil pesto balancing a solid fish. Avocado adds a fatty creaminess to the otherwise spring-y sandwich, and even the ciabatta is remarkably chewy and soft, with the whole wheat adding heartiness to each perfect bite. Sounds simple, but I’ve never had anything where the flavor combination made such a splash.

Five stars and all I had was a freaking sandwich. It just happened to be the best freaking sandwich I’ve had all year, and after a freaking sandwich like this, my usually brown eyes were glowing Turquoise by the end of the meal.

Jus’ Poke – Redondo Beach

People are in love with poke. They attack it ravenously and they rave about it like it’s the best thing since sliced sushi. But something about sesame oil has always poked me the wrong way, and it often seems to be the key ingredient in poke, so while others raved about theirs, I merely poked at mine.

All that changed the day I decided to jus’ try the Wasabi Poke at Jus’ Poke. These red chunks of fresh tuna are almost pale green from the wasabi, and the smooth burn pokes and jolts all the right taste buds in all the right places. The Shoyu Poke makes a strong showing as well, with none of that overpowering oil we call sesame. $10 pairs your poke with rice and a decent seaweed salad on the side.

Just the regular portion of poke should fill you up, but the still-warm tray of freshly-made Spam Masubi is impossible to resist. I grabbed one on my way out because I couldn’t jus’ keep walking.

I was jus’ not that into poke , but one bite at Jus’ Poke had me convinced. Don’t be fooled by the modest exterior of this casual pick-up place. The poke is anything but ordinary, and believe me, you jus’ can’t help coming back for more.

Hoka Hoka Sushi – Redondo Beach

The thing about cravings is that you never know when they’ll hit and you never what they’ll hit you with. You could be doing anything when a passion for pancakes throws a punch, and you could be in the middle of everything when a when a sushi craving sets you salivating.

And when my sushi craving came out of the blue, it seemed like nothing would make me happier than happy hour at Hoka Hoka. A mere ten dollars buys one humongous special roll and four nigiri staples, and they’re not exactly stingy with the sushi here.  

I have an unhealthy obsession with salmon sushi, and why settle for just one layer when you can double down? The Double Double Roll has a healthy helping of avocado and salmon on the inside with avocado-salmon stripes on the outside. It wasn’t the freshest salmon, but for $10 I can’t really complain.

I think the other roll was the Hot Night…that’s how memorable it was. It wasn’t very hot despite the tuna topped with sriracha. The texture of the tuna was a little off and the murky eel sauce didn’t do it any favors. 

When a craving strikes, sometimes you hit the spot and sometimes you settle. Hoka Hoka wasn’t half bad, but it was like seeing Divergence because they ran out of tickets for The Hunger Games. 

Trying Everything at Torihei - Torrance

My name is Kelsey and I'm a hoarder. I collect, I accumulate, I cache. I hang on to every little and every last thing, and I let nothing go. No junk too junky, no trinket too trivial, no morsel without meaning. Everything discarded is potential wasted, an opportunity missed. 

I'm not just a hoarder, I'm also a fooder. When faced with a menu, I over-order, I sample, I taste. I try every little and every last thing, and I let nothing go untasted. No ingredient too indigestible, no edibles too expensive, no skewer too strange. Everything not ordered is potential wasted, an opportunity missed. 

At Torihei, I am fooder with a menu full of inexpensive small plates and yakitori. A fooder with yakitori is like a hoarder with unlimited storage space, and in my belly, there was a place for everything and everything in its place.

Hoarding is often defined as the accumulation of the unnecessary, but I don’t just amass useless things. My 135 leftover soy sauce packets come in handy when I run out of soy sauce, which I do all the time because I’m Asian. Plus the other 355 sauce packets from Chinese restaurants are perfect I want to cover my food with something orange and gross. And clearly someone used my logic when making the Octopus and the Cabbage with ramen flavor. The octopus is a collection of octopus and random sprinkles of whatever extras were behind the sushi bar, and the cabbage was clearly covered with extra broth packets from several packs of Cup Noodles.

What’s one addition when I already have so many? Surely at least one button in the box I’ve accumulated will one day fit my favorite shirt. And when that day comes, victory will taste even sweeter than the sesame-ginger sauce on the gorgeously filleted slices of tender red Kobe Beef Carpaccio.

Despite my more useful items, my friends still give me a lot of Shit-ake Mushroom about them…especially when they have to help me pack. And maybe I do go overboard sometimes….

It is a sad day when your own roommate has to confiscate your sweater with the two irreparable holes and stuff it into her own trashcan because no matter what regrets you may have, you at least wouldn’t stoop to digging through her trash. My holey sweater may  have been holy to me, but it was about as worthless as the rubbery, not-so-fresh Garlic Squid which had little-to-no noticeable flavor except for the inexplicably bitter aftertaste.

Along similar lines, the Grilled Clams were about as fresh as that sweater and as sandy as that same sweater after a day on the beach.

I know all things shouldn’t be kept, but it breaks my heart to throw them away. But I would have been delighted to discard the excessive amount of brown sauce that drowned the Tsunagi, or “special heart”. The heart was every bit as tender and tasty as the Hatsu, or regular heart, (pictured with the tontoro), but add the all-consuming sauce, and there’s no room to savor the flavor. But there was room for tender chunks of the Beef Tongue yakatori (not pictured) because there is always room for just one more thing.

Some things are impossible to throw away, but some things are easy to stop collecting. The Tontoro, or fatty pork, has clearly spent years collecting its soft, savory, juicy tendrils of fat, and that’s stash I was happy to liquidate with every sinful bite.

Everyone has something that defines them, and everyone is allowed their quirks. The Tsukune, or the Torihei meatball, is an amazingly tasty ball of tender chicken and gooey jelly fish with a hint of contrasting cartilage makes a quirky but delicious combination, an unusual conglomeration. Unusual parts forming a cohesive whole…not so different from the charming yet seemingly nonsensical piles of oddities that fill my bedroom floor…and closet…and wall,…Right?

Whenever I think I can’t handle one more thing, I magically find the closet space, and it turns out my eyes aren’t bigger than my stomach after all. But alas, hoarding, like the Pig Feet, isn’t for everyone. If the idea of soft tender interspersed with tons of connective tissues makes you cringe, simply steer clear. And if you’re not okay with giving up your sleeping space in for just one item, then hoarding isn’t for you either.

There are treatments for hoarding, and maybe one day I'll enroll. I would have started going to meetings by now but they won't let me bring my stuff. There are treatments for fooding too, and maybe one day I’ll give them a try. I would have already started going to meetings by now but they don’t serve snacks.