Tatsu Ramen – Los Angeles

When I was in college I thought that all of the world’s ramen came in plastic bags or Styrofoam cups from a single Japanese factory called Maruchan. Whenever I broke up those noodle blocks, poured in the packet of flavor, simmered it over a hot stove, and added an extra-special egg, I ate my authentic Japanese meal with chopsticks on the floor of my dorm room and wondered if someone was doing the same thing at the same time in their Japanese pagoda across the earth.

Thanks to SoCal, I quickly discovered that, among other things, Maruchan is American and Japanese people don’t live in pagodas. That last part was pretty hard to take, but once I recovered from the shock, I also realized that I could do better, so much better with my ramen.

The Bold Ramen at Tatsu was better, so much better. It had as many spices as the Shrimp AND politically-incorrect Oriental Maruchan flavors combined, and this savory swirl of 11 flavors had simmered over a stove for days. The self-regulated spicy heat is a sweeter than anything you can squeeze out of Sriracha, and the flavored egg is infallible.

Back in college, I made spicier Sriracha-loaded ramen to wake up after an all-nighter, whether I was studying, partying, or fresh off a study-party. Yes, those do exist. I was pre-med. I loved my Sriracha, but when you go black (garlic oil), you never go back. The deep, murky oil of the Soul Ramen floats atop a rich tonkotsu base and heightens your sense at a whole new level.

Needless to say, my college culinary understanding was limited at best. I mean, I actually thought that Maruchan and trash can punch were a legitimate pairing. I think I would still recommend that combination to college students, but at Tatsu, I’d say Sake. Even the cheaper ones were a little classier than anything from a frat house hallway, and sipping before you dip will brighten the Bold and spice up the Soul.

Tatsu may be all about the ramen, but the Pork Bun shouldn’t be missed. This 3-inch steamed bun sub was Asian Subway beyond my wildest college dreams. Lined with crisp, non-iceberg lettuce and overflowing with chunks of soft, sweetly-sauced, barely-breaded pork, it wasn’t quite the traditional bun I was expecting, but it didn’t stop me from digging in like a starving senior.

I don’t think I knew what real ramen was until I moved to SoCal. I’ve had plenty of ramen in plenty of places since, but Tatsu made a stronger impression because it still managed to surprise me. The broths are bold, and the flavors are very different compared to the classics made their Sawtelle neighbors and Little Tokyo counterparts. I’m still not sure if I prefer these bolder broths compared to the more classic ones, but I will be giving that black garlic oil at least another try.

Beard Papa's - Los Angeles

Some foods are the product of fusion, but Beard Papa’s cream puffs are not. They’re just borrowed. The classic French cream puff, profiterole, or choux a la creme is a classic. It’s been featured everywhere, from the gourmet patisserie to the grocery store freezer to the casual county fair, and at Beard Papa’s, it’s in the small, innovative hands of the Japanese.

I really didn’t expect to LOVE this dessert when I purchased it from an Osaka-based bakery featuring a white guy with a beard, but I do LOVELOVELOVELOVELOVE the Strawberries & Cream Cream Puff. The cream filling is light as a feather and a lot less sweet that what you get from most French/American bakeries, and the chewy pastry shell is quite good.

When we borrow, we take a good idea and make it our own. We fuse, we invent, and best of all, we innovate. And whether we find new tastes, new flavors, or just a slight spin on a household name, there is always a thrill that comes with tasting something just a little bit different. And while Beard Papa didn't exactly reinvent the cream puff, they did put a slight spin on the best cream puff I’ve ever had.

Palate-Pleasing Pomegranate – San Diego

If I had to make a list of my favorite words in the English language, fusion would make the top ten. Not that I would ever make a list that nerdy…or at least if I did, I wouldn’t tell anyone…hypothetically speaking, of course. But all nerdy denial aside, I really do like fusion. Fusion depicts the coming together of concepts, ideas, and sometimes objects, and both are often better because they met. Maybe we need a little more of that these days.

My favorite form of fusion occurs on a palate, from a plate. While foods of Asian fusion tend to be hit-or-miss, Pomegranate had the right idea when they combined the literal “meat and potatoes” of Russian cuisine with the lesser-known gastronomies of its neighbor Georgia.

My familiarity with Russian cuisine limited at best, but everyone has heard of the beet soup Borscht, a pomegranate-colored broth, boiling with all the fresh, hearty-yet-light sweetness of a rarer root vegetable. And when it comes to borscht, Pomegranate doesn’t miss a beet.

I know very little about Russian cuisine, and the only exposure I’ve had to “Georgian” cuisine takes the form of an entire pig in a barrel-shaped grill. Then again, Florida-Georgia Line is one of my favorite bands right now so I figured I’d give the Russia-Georgia line a chance.

Believe me, crossing that Georgia line was one of my better decisions ever, a decision in the form of Khachapuri, a bread-bowl of dripping, gooey cheese made just that much goopier when mixed with a soft raw egg.

The best part of the khachapuri is that it goes well with anything you order. Dip in the borscht, and the cheese will give the beets a new dimension. Mix and eat with the Salad Sampler, and the veggies will balance out the dairy and starch. I didn’t care for what was basically the Russian version of a mayo-loaded potato salad, but I loved all the others. The Lobio is light and full of spice- and walnut-flavored beans. The Carrot Salad is sweet and simple, and since no Russian experience is complete without a good beeting, the Kavkaz Beet Salad doesn’t disappoint. The Ikra Badrijannaya is full of smoky, garlicky eggplant made with the perfect soft, seedy texture, and I think they’re onto something when they call it the poor man’s caviar. How can something as simple as a salad taste so good? Beets me.

At an American wedding, the perfect mix of “something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue” promises a lifetime of happiness, and every culture prefers a combination of their own. Every culture has their own tradition when it comes to dumplings too. The Chinese are perhaps the best known, with endless combinations of ground meats and various veggies, but chicken n’ dumplings have pleased many an American generation, and Italian ravioli is not to be sold short. The Geo-Russians also have their version, the Vareniki, which seems to borrow from its neighbors near and far. The body of tortellini, the thicker wrapper of an Asian dumpling, plus the cheesy, smushed potato filling of a Portuguese pierogi melds into a masterful mix.

So many mixes had me craving a simple Russian Beef Stroganoff, with its tender cubes of beef in a savory sour cream. But even this dish is partly borrowed. Although it’s traditionally served with mashed potatoes, this version has you spiraling sauce around rotini al dente. As the server astutely explained, “Americans like it with pasta, and it just tastes so good”.

I know that Russia is the literal meat and potatoes of cooking, but I could only hope the Georgians weren’t vegetarian. One bite of the tender meat-falling-off-the-bone shank of Chakapuli lamb had me eating my thoughts. Sure, I prefer the stroganoff, but this lamb is straight-off-the-spit good!

I love my cultures, and I love my traditions, but if SimCity is any indication, it’s the power of fusion that powers the future. When our cultures combine their power…we get Captain Planet. And when we combine the two great countries of Russia and Georgia we get an amazing place like Pomegranate. Seriously though, multiculturalism is fun, multilingualism is awesome, and mixed babies are both attractive and smart. Rihanna and Chris Brown aside, can you think of anytime when collaboration wasn’t for the better?

Richmond Bar & Grill – El Segundo

Crepes Xpress may only sound like a dive but Richmond is truly a dive. Except in this case, dive is a compliment. This wood-paneled bar off the main street of El Segundo is both cute and cozy, and you can’t help but feel at home. It seats a max of 20 people who have showered, and even if the entire place is empty, the people here have mastered the art of making you feel welcome, well-served, with your privacy well-protected, all at the same time.

The one must-try item on the menu is the Peanut Butter Bacon Cheddar Burger. Its thick, juicy patty, crispy bacon, and gooey cheddar are a steal at $10. And if the thought of peanut butter on a burger makes you gag as much as I did, just take a bite and you’ll be pleasantly surprised by just how well savory peanut blends with beef.  If you really can’t stomach the thought of it, I had a burger special one night too. I don’t really remember what it was called, but the fresh guacamole was pretty unforgettable.

Can't quite work your way up to the peanut butter but still want to try? No problem. There's plenty of liquid courage on tap, and there are stellar beer specials every night. I know it’s a pain that they’re cash only, but since when does a 20 buy you so much food and fun?

Gourmet Crepe Xpress Cafe – Los Angeles

I really hate the name of this place. Express with an X can X out the respectability of any establishment and turn it into the restaurant cousin of a dive bar or a white-washed Panda Express for crepes. Sure, the crepes are standard street food, but nothing should be named Express unless it’s a clothing store with great graphic tees. 

Seriously, no place with barrel-based tables this cute should start with an X. I’m crossing myself at the blasphemy.

I loved the casual-chic tables, so how could a Tres-Chic Crepe go wrong? The crepe is a thicker pancake with a hint of savory buckwheat stuffed with a salty smoked salmon and a cascade of capers. The scattered green onion keeps it light. Nice but just a standard salmon crepe. 

The Tres-Chic was filling, but I wasn’t quite ready to say A Bientot to the savory crepes just yet. The fresh mozzarella, tomato, and basil end this crepe on a lighter note while the pesto and pine nuts keep it from getting bland. I was satisfied, but I wasn't all that pleased.

There are worse ways to start the day than with these crepes, but there are no better ways than with a classic Cappuccino. I don’t know if it’s the frothy foam or the pretty cup it comes in, but if you need a to remember you’re in a French café, make sure you have some Xpress-o with your breakfast at Xpress.

The crepes were light enough that there was a little room for both coffee and dessert. The Déjà vu Crepe’s nutty nutella is the perfect pairing with espresso and a great way to end your experience at Xpress. And it's a nice experience overall, but the crepes are just too generic to pick this place over others.

Brilliant Boa – Santa Monica

My latest reviews have been introspective, giving you a glimpse at the inner workings of my mind. And my, what a strangely scary sight it’s been. It looks like my wheels are turning but in an inexplicably eccentric manner, and more often than not, I think I’m just grinding the gears. I may just be marching to the beat of my own, very strange drum, but historically, all geniuses had a couple of screws loose so I’d like to think that my compulsions and quirks which will one day result in a bounty of brilliance…I can only hope.

If wishes do come true, then Boa’s chef must have a mind like mine because the pure genius of the Goat Cheese Baklava actually left me speechless. For those of you who know me, yes, apparently that is possible. I’ve had good baklava, but this stuff is the perfect balance of decadence, a taste bud tug-of-war between two equally strong teams. The soft, smooth chevre is pitted against the crunchy, nutty-salty pistachio, all folded into flaky layers of perfect pastry to keep the combination crisp.

“I shouldn’t have splurged on that mind-blowing steak”, said no one ever, and believe me a steak from Boa is worth the price.  The appetizer was well-balanced, but there was no balance to the NY Strip, which is simply a slab of the best steak ever. Meaty juices squeeze out with each slow, meaningful chew. Use your fork to mash the entire clove of roasted garlic into a mush, mash it under each Herbed Butter-rubbed bite, and I swear it made every eccentric wheels in my head stopped turning. Want less subtle flavors with your meat? The Bleu Cheese crust makes a heavenly coating, and the Peppercorn dipping sauce is herbed butter with a bite.

The steak was amazing, and I ate every bite, but all beef this mind-blowing-ly intense needs a break like the Chipotle Lime Corn, a golden grill jump-started by tangy lime and a slightly spicy chipotle kick.

It takes a lot to unexpectedly blow my mind, and I didn’t expect to be so impressed by the non-meat dishes at a place that specializes in steak. The thing is, if all the weirdly-turning wheels in my mind can one day culminate in half the brilliance I saw at Boa, maybe my life of awkward silence wouldn’t have been for nothing.

Idolizing India’s Tandoori – Manhattan Beach

Apparently nothing puts me in the mood for Indian food like a glass of wine at Barsha because the moment I signed the check, I was jay-running in the dark to get to India’s Tandoori across the street. I’d risk my life for good Indian food, and India’s Tandoori was no exception.

There are few foods more original than Indian, and there are few cultures with more aesthetic appeal. Even the oven that cooks the food is attractive. Whether it’s an earthy clay pot or a shiny metal barrel, if aesthetics were an award the tandoor would win them all. Then again, it’s what on the inside that counts, and everything that goes in a tandoor comes out like the Chicken Tikka;  resplendently red with sizzling strips of sautéed onion.

I can’t begin to figure out what I love most about Indian culture, but the dances and the clothing are probably tied for first. Whether it’s the hand-clapping, lightbulb-screwing bhangra reverberating like the sharp, spicy Goat Vindaloo or the smoother circles of garba that swirl and weave like the more delicate lentils of the Daal Makhni, just be prepared to end your spicy dance in a glass of water with ice.

The dances are divine, but I’ve never seen anything more stunning than a sari. Like the food, the sari is an artful arrangement of elegant embroidery, breathtaking beads, and rightful wrapping. And like the sari, the Shahi Paneer is an intricately-entwined blend of spices that comes together as a sweet, seamless sauce.

Even the most stunning of saris is incomplete without the right accessories, one of them being the bindi. Choosing the right round dot can make or break the sari, and choosing the right green wheels of not-even-the-tiniest-bit-slimy okra of the Bhindi Bhaji definitely made the meal.

The bindi is important and the sari is a must, but what’s a sari with the perfect bindi if you don’t have bangles? No outfit feels complete without them but sometimes, like the fluffy, thin-crust sauce-sopping Garlic Naan, (which is easily the best I’ve ever had), their importance is often overlooked.

And just when I thought I couldn’t love India’s Tandoori more, we were gifted with some milky, nutty, and mildly grainy Rice Pudding to sample.

I love all that is Indian. Whether it’s because the majority of my friends from med school were Indian or because the majority of my med school was Indian, my relationship with these people has shaped my love for their culture, which I intend to conquer, one bite at a time. And while risking my life for India’s Tandoori sounds a little extreme, I’m pretty comforted by the thought that maybe they’ll let me be Indian in my next life.