Izakaya Hachi UPDATE - Torrance

I'm baaaaaaack! And I've been away too long. The menu is mostly the same, but there are a few new specials, and I still can't get enough. Every dish is enchanting, every flavor entrancing. No details is overlooked, no plate too simple, no ingredient too small.

Let's start a little lighter with a Cold Inaniwa Udon. Boasting the best udon noodles in Japan, this mat-full of noodles comes with high expectations. Thinner than the ropy noodles I'm used to, these rock a dense, thready stretch. Dipping sauce streams from the smooth surface, a cool, clinging mix of mirin and soy. 

A Grilled Spicy Sesame Chicken is a gamble for a girl who hates sesame oil. The cutlet comes murky-brown on a jet-black plate.  A swamp monster rears its scaly sesame-seeded back in a sesame oil pond. Oh no, I hate sesame oil. But wait, what is this flavor? This added layer of complexity and depth? The oil brings out the savor in the chicken, and the seedy crust adds texture and umami. Maybe it's just a piece of chicken, but it is also the first I've ever enjoyed sesame oil.

The Beef Tongue is a grilled classic. A delicate outside char, a juicy-red paradise at its core. It's impossible to stop at one plate, and we showed restraint with two. 

The Octopus & Daikon Radish Salad is a sort of reset between meaty mouthfuls. The octopus is blow-your-mind tender, the daikon is crisp and refreshing, and the ginger dressing is a delicate brush.

The Pork Cheek is one we get less often, and it's one we should get more of. The yuzu adds spunky citrus to a marbled meat, and each bite is as melty and rich as the beef tongue.

There needs to be another starch, and an Onigiri gets the job done. This one is packed with spicy cod roe for all sorts of creamy, fishy bliss.

The Jidori Omelet is full of sweetness and dashi broth. A classic end to a fantastic spread, one that never gets old.

Izakaya Hachi is as Japanese as its creators. The menu never ages, fantastic food that never gets old. Even the food I hate are undeniably delicious, and there's nothing I'm not enamored with. Izakaya Hachi has a menu that just can't miss, and I love it a little more every single time.

Yummy Spot - Torrance

I'm sure there's a Buzzfeed list somewhere detailing the most brilliant things invented by Asians. If there isn't, there should be, because the list is long. On top of that list sits the rice/noodle bowl. Sorry Republicans, rice bowls "Trump" gunpowder. Ain't nobody ever died from eating a rice bowl.

For a yummy representation of said rice bowl, try Yummy Spot for an affordable lunch. They have over a dozen variations on a tasty theme. Their bowls are interesting, and I would describe them as authentic Asian fusion. They represent several regions and countries, with sauces and curries in the styles of Szechuan, Beijing, Thailand, and Tokyo. 

The Szechuan Dan Dan Noodles are true to their name. They numb then burn the numbed spots, a delightful sauce over al dente noodle. You get a choice of meats for toppings, and the marbled beef shank tastes just like my mother's soy sauce beef. My friend got the pork ribs, and they look like they fall off the bone.

Taiwanese Pork Rice hits your carb craving where it hurts. Soft mincemeat melts between the grains of rice, salty with a little sweet. I chose the chashu for this one, and it goes good with a perfect soft-boiled egg. 

For those who need a little more variety, they have fun sides like XLB and these Fried Chicken Potstickers. The crunchy wrapper is not even the least big greasy, and the filling is nice and tender. I prefer pork or shrimp in my potstickers, but these are solid.

Yummy Spot is the place to go if you're craving a taste of the stuff an Asian mom might make at home. The simple rice and noodle bowls make for a quick and casual lunch, and their take-out travels well. It also goes nicely with Netflix and chill, a go-to bowl to go when you're craving something nicer than the sesame chicken around the corner.

Momofuku Las Vegas - Las Vegas, NV

It's been half a decade since I've strolled the streets of NYC. I've almost forgotten the fumes of garbage bags on trash day mixing with the smells of something spicy, something baking, and something frying on every corner of every street. I miss it, all of it, even the trash. It was like a different life. 

Nostalgia, pleasant nostalgia anyway, smells just like Momofuku, my first taste of David Chang's genius almost ten years ago. I remember when the original noodle bar had the LES fighting Stuy Town for barstools, no reservations for front-row seats to what was probably the first decent bowl of ramen NYC had ever seen. 

For me, Momofuku Las Vegas releases a wave of pleasant porky memories worth visiting more than once...and we did. All those restaurants all around, but this visit starts and ends with Momofuku. 

The bar section even looks like Momofuku NYC, and I could almost be back there biting into their legendary Pork Belly Bun. The bun is steamed soft and fluffy, barely containing a brick of a belly, braised melty and soft, rivulets of liquid fat dripping tears of joy with every chew. There's a dab of hoisin, a dice of scallion, a cut of cucumber. It's the simplest thing, but I've never found one better.

There's a Spicy Fried Chicken Sandwich, too, a red-hot but not too hot crispy cut. Full in flavor, highlight by a smoky, creamy sauce and cooled down with a cucumber cured.

I hesitated before I ordered the Shoyu Pork Ramen. Shoyu broth is never my favorite, and after years of the real deal in Torrance, I wasn't sure it would feel the same. It feels the same. Same rich, porky broth, so savory and dense it could be a sauce. Same thick, dissolving chunk of belly with marbled shredded shoulder, and a seeping poached egg. Noodles still al dente, a bowl of all sorts of happiness.

I got another ramen for our last lunch, and we ordered the Jidori Chicken Ssam as a lighter contrast. The chicken is perfect. Thin skin and tender meat with all the juices, savory-flavory in a crisp and fresh lettuce wrap. Ginger-scallion perks up the rice, and pickles refresh the palate. 

David Chang makes fireworks when he gets it right. His Momofuku will be the Bellagio fountain once people catch on. It's a classic that never gets old, and it's breathtaking no matter how many times you have it.

Milk Bar - Las Vegas, NV

Almost ten years ago, my first taste of Milk Bar rocked my world. It threw everyone for a loop, dishing out just desserts, the likes of which the Lower East Side had never seen. 

For me, it was the Crack Pie. Cue clouds opening, streaming sunlight, and epiphany music. 

You don't even feel anything on the first bite, but we all like our sugar with butter and cream. The second bite sneaks up on you, and an insatiable desire to have more sets in somewhere between the second bite and the third. It sounds so simple, but what it does to you is something I can't even try to explain.

The Cake Truffles are another favorite. These aren't so original anymore, but I dare say they started the cake pop revolution. All sugar, crumbly and sweet; They'd probably turn your kids into bullets of energy and keep you clubbing all night.

Nostalgia makes me bold. I've always wanted to try the Cereal Milk Soft Serve, and I decide today will be the day. I should have quit while I was ahead. There is a reason it sounds like a bad idea. Spoiler alert: it is a terrible idea. It tastes like soggy corn flakes soaked in milk except the corn flakes are at least a year old. The cereal flavor is STALESTALESTALE and it is disgusting. In my husband's words, "It tastes like something I (and no one else in the world) shouldn't be eating."

The soft serve went into the garbage where it belongs, but we did get half a crack pie for the road. I still have a soft spot for Milk Bar, but I'd be damn glad to never see their cereal milk again.

China Poblano - Las Vegas, NV

Jose Andres never stood a chance. I walked in cynical AF, and I walked out just the same. The man openly admits that he doesn't know how to make Asian food. He goes a step further to admit he fears that which he cannot create and yet he somehow gets the gall to fuse a food he cannot cook with a cuisine with which he is all too familiar.

Except it's not really fusion. Aside from slipping you a little (duck) tongue inside a taco, they separate the Mexican and the Asian pretty clearly. 

We stick to the Asian side because that's what we're craving, and the Har Gow are quite good. They get that thin, see-through wrapper right, and the filling is impressively tender. The shrimp is far less detectable than the pork, but overall it's still a solid dumpling.

I wish I could say the same about the XiaoLongBao. Doughy, crude, undercooked wrappers encase a delicate practically-consommé...What the hell kind of broth is this? Did they seriously just take a dumpling from a culture that cooks every scrap of food because it can't afford to waste and fill it with the juice of a baby cow? What. The. F.

Fortunately, their take on the Dan Dan Mian is much more acceptable. They do a lovely hand cut al dente noodle, and the barely-spicy ground pork sauce is clean and simple.

The Liang Fen is less firm than the more authentic ones I've had, but they're not at all mushy. The chili sauce has a gentle bite to it, and the turnip butterflies make me smile. 

Dessert is Mango Sticky Rice, the only truly fusion item we ordered. It's made well, and it's an enjoyably sweet, fruity and creamy mix, but I can't get over the fact that it tastes like mango sticky rice without the pulpy, dripping juices of sun-ripened Thai yellow mango. It lacks the firmly gummy texture of sticky rice, and there is no oozy, creamy coconut sugar-milk to be found. It's mango sticky rice stripped of everything that makes it mango sticky rice, and I cannot say I like that better. Also, this is not a Chinese dish. 

China Poblano didn't turn out all that bad in the grand scheme of things, but I just don't get it. First of all, if you're trying to break into a cuisine you have no experience with, maybe don't start with all their most beloved and iconic foods. I can honestly say that nothing here was by any means inedible or completely unpleasant, but nothing was memorable, and there wasn't a single dish the demonstrated creativity or skill.

Jose Andres was honest about his trepidation about Chinese food, but he then chose to create an entire restaurant based on that. Nothing all that wrong with the food, but it's all a little too clean, simple, unfortunately, too boring. It tastes exactly like a meal someone who is afraid of Chinese cooking would make, and it's not something I ever need to taste again.