A Sad Postscript - The El Coyote Boycott

According to several management-level sources at El Coyote, Marjorie Christofferson has submitted her resignation, both as a member of the restaurant's corporate board and as an employee. "Margie submitted her resignation today," manager Billy Schoeppner told me last Thursday. "I just got off the phone with her. She was crying."

This is the emotional result of the boycott of El Coyote launched by elements of the local gay community in response to Margie's personal, $100 donation to the "Yes on Proposition 8" campaign. So, the question is, does this mean the boycott's over?

During the largest protest against the restaurant, I asked many of the 200 protesters picketing enthusiastically on the sidewalk during prime business hours what they were after: what were their "demands" were before they would return to El Coyote? "Margie needs to resign," was the unanimous answer. So now she has. But various posts on other boards about the issue have expressed the opinion that "as long as ANY of the money I spend at El Coyote goes to the Mormon church, I won't spend my money there." It has been asserted on some other boards that: Margie is secretly the owner, because she's listed as the corporate contact with the state of California; that her family is Mormon, and because it's a family business, that means 10% of any money spent there is tithed to the church. I did some deeper digging, interviewing members of the staff, family, and longtime friends. Here's the real scoop.

"El Coyote is not Mormon. Margie's family isn't Mormon. They're all drinkers, except Margie!" Billy repeated to me over three days, over and over again. I thought this curious; Mormonism tends to run in the family. How did she end up the only one? Billy asked another manager, Larry; Larry asked Margie's husband Chris. Word came back. There were three Salisbury siblings: Blanche and the twin brothers George and Jim. Blanche and her husband founded El Coyote; George founded El Cholo. Jim married Margie's mother, Grace, and when her sister Blanche passed away, ownership of the restaurant passed to Grace. One of Margie's older cousins attended Brigham Young University in Utah, where he converted to Mormonism. Margie, at her cousin's recommendation, also went to BYU -- where she also converted. Jim (a life-long drinker and smoker) converted to Mormonism just before he died. Margie's cousin later left the church, leaving Margie (aside from, possibly, her two daughters) as the only practicing Mormon in the family.

As far as Margie's recent corporate involvement, El Coyote is run by a small, family-held corporation. Grace is its president and CEO. Margie has functioned as its Secretary. That's why she was the listed contact with the State of California. When she gave her notice as an employee, she also submitted her resignation from the board to Grace.

So there it is. Margie's out the door. I wonder who will be coming back in? The only possible rationale for continuing to boycott the restaurant (aside from not liking the food -- de gustibus non disputandem est, is I'll say about that) is that she might inherit a portion of it someday. True, she's the current owner's daughter. She also has siblings, so (and I am not, nor do I want to be, privy to anyone's will over this) maybe she'll get a piece of it someday. Is that justification for a boycott? Should your livelihood be imperiled for something one of your nieces, or nephews, or children did, or might do in the future? That seems absurd to me.

El Coyote has given thousands of dollars over the last few weeks to GLBT causes and charities. The restaurant is now -- believe it or not -- being boycotted by various right-wing groups for doing so. Mormon wards as far away as San Diego have sent groups to the restaurant in support of the restaurant's supposedly "anti-gay" policies. But of course, those Mormon's ain't drinking margaritas. Business is off dramatically, even considering the current economy. Waiters and waitresses -- many of them gay -- are having their shifts cut back.

The gay community has made an important, and nation-wide, point about civil rights, separation of church and state, and the power of the gay pocketbook. El Coyote has done everything it can -- and Margie has given up her lifelong job -- to make amends.

So could someone please declare victory achieved, and the boycott over? My local diner's in trouble.

Have a Bibimbap-y Christmas - La Korea @ Farmer's Market

LA KOREA
Los Angeles Farmers Market
6333 W 3rd St
Los Angeles, CA‎
Stall # 510
(323) 936-3930

If you're like me, and you live in Hollywood, you're going to be spending a little more time at The Grove than you'd like. Schlepping from the Apple Store to Crate and Barrel, bags and shopping list akimbo. That case you got for a stocking stuffer just won't fit your mate's old iPod, you're considering a new iPod (your household's third) Your blood sugar is dropping, blood pressure rising. You look around for Grove food: all too sit-down-y. You go to the historic Farmer's Market, but you're not sure what to grab, quickly, that won't knock you on your shopping ass for the crucial next two hours.

I recommend La Korea, at the northeastern end of the market, near the Gumbo Pot and Dupar's. If you know me you know I loves the Korean food, and while this is several miles from the wonders of Koreatown, it totally satisfies the lunch jones in a way that few other cuisines can. Its menu is reassuringly small; not too many stress-inducing choices to make (which is my main complaint with Loteria... I never seem to quite get what I expected, and other people's plates look so much better), and all in the $6-8 range. The La Korea menu features grilled meat, either chicken, pork, or beef, served with steamed rice and choice of two side dishes. The side dishes are right there, so you can just point. Or, perhaps you're new to Korean food? If so, I recommend the bibimbap. Don't be scared by all those b's, it's pronounced exactly the way its spelled.

Bibimbap is literally "stirred meal" in Korean. It's a bowl of steamed rice with an array of ingredients on top; think of a fresh-Mex style "burrito bowl" but with Korean meats and veggies, instead of rice, beans, lettuce and guacamole. In a Korean home, the rice would likely be topped whatever is leftover from last night's meal. In restaurants, it's often a selection of the Korean banchan, or side dishes, and that's the case here: cucumber salad, julienned carrots, bean sprouts, cabbage, broccoli, and lettuce. It really should have a fried egg atop it all... ask, and I'm sure you shall receive. I forgot to ask, and my photo model arrived egless.



While you're waiting for your meal, it's only few steps over the EB Wine Bar, where they are always cheerfully pouring some microbrew draft beers and well-chosen wines by the glass, for 5 or 6 bucks. I suggest you treat yourself to one, you've earned it and it'll go really well with your lunch. That's a Santa Barbara County Pinot Noir...


Your bibimbap bowl is served with the veggies and meats arranged like pie slices atop the rice, along with your choice of tender, thin, freshly grilled beef (the ubiquitous, soy and sesame seed-seasoned beef bulgogi that is to Korea what carne asada is to Mexico) or chicken. They'll give ya pork if you wish (as pictured below), or, rumor has it, grill up anything you bring them from Marconda's the famous butchers next door. I'm totally doing that next time I visit!



Of course an all-veggie, or veggie and tofu, version is available, too. Be sure to take a small tub of the chili paste-sauce from the counter. At your table, drizzle sauce on your bowl (don't worry, it's quite mild) and stir it all up. You've just created a light but filling dish, fulfilled your vegetable-servings requirement for the day, and added some delicious grilled protein to boot. And you've now partaken of one of the staple dishes of Korean cuisine.

My only gripe is that the chili paste is not nearly hot enough for my taste. I get around this by borrowing from the extensive selection of bottled heat at the end of the Gumbo Pot counter. True, La Korea is not quite up to what you'll find in Koreatown, but it beats the hell out of Cheesecake Factory. And if you eat here enough, you might save enough money left over for that third iPod.

That Bloody Bazouki: Ulysses Voyage

Ulysses Voyage
6333 W. Third St.
Los Angeles, CA 90036
(323) 939-9728

M-Thurs. 11am - 10:30pm
F-S 11am - 11:30 pm
Sunday 9am - 11:30pm
MC, VISA, AMEX

I know the stated purpose of this blog is to explore cheap ethnic eats in LA. I've decided that's both too limiting and too vague. After all, everything is ethnic to someone else, "cheap" is subjective, and I've been doing some extensive research into macaroni and cheese around town that must be published someday soon. But not today.

Today is about a place you probably walk past all the time, little knowing that inside is some of the best Greek cuisine you'll find this side of 5th Century B.C. Athens. I don't know if you can Greek food "ethnic" anymore, when gyros and kabobs and Greek salads are ubiquitous. And anywhere you can get Ketel One probably ain't cheap. But damn, the food here is good, and as carefully prepared and authentically Greek as anything I've had on two visits to Greece.

Here's the dish:

Ulysses Voyage is near the west end of the main drag at The Grove. Not Farmer's Market, thought their website says so. It's in The Grove proper. It's a two minute walk from the movie theaters, less from the Apple Store.

The dining room is small, just a few tables, but it opens out into a spacious heated patio where you can watch the people parade and the trolley go by. Neither the greasy-spoon type of Greek place with Santorini travel posters peeling from the walls nor the over-the-top "atmospheric"
Greek with dancing waiters and plates whizzing past your ears every thirty seconds on their way to destruction, Ulysses Voyage is the type of place you might find on the Plaka in Athens: good, clean, local food done right, with enough atmosphere to evoke a hint of the Aegean. (Translate: one guy on a bazouki playing and singing over the somewhat inadequate sound system).

Ulysses Voyage professes to be "meze" cuisine, which means it's a place to snack on small items over a leisurely beverage -- the Greek equivalent of a tapas bar. But it's actually a full service restaurant with dishes ranging from mezes like olives and feta all the way up to pastas, salads, and rack of lamb.

Ironically, the "meze" here are fine, but unexceptional. The appetizer menu is dominated by an extensive array of hummus- and tzaziki-based dips. At lunch, $10.50 gets you a sampler of any three. Try the Taramosalata, a salmon egg whip that's as Athenian as the Olympics or the Fava beans whipped with eggplant; if you like a little spicy, the Tyrokafteri dip of feta and hot peppers is the trick.

The Calamari Salad ($12.00), is one of the best of this noble dish I've had; the steak is big, tender, grilled to perfection with lemon and paprika on a bed of fresh greens. God I love squid, and I don't eat it enough!

But where Ulysses Voyage shines is in its iteration of classic Greek entrees. The Moussaka ($11.95) is heavenly. The layer of bechamel cream on top is a fluffy, jiggling, two-inch think souffle of the lightest texture; beneath are layers of thin-sliced potatoes, eggplant, and ground lamb baked and spiced. A vegetarian version ($10.95) deliciously substitutes zucchini for meat without missing a beat. The Pastitsio (11.95) -- a deep dish of baked penne dish with ground lamb and bechamel -- is equally divine, and a little heartier. Rack of lamb is tender and juicy. And all the main courses are served with fresh, tasty veggies and the lemon potatoes that every Greek restaurant specializes in, but which achieves apotheosis here. And there's a feta cheese spread that goes on fresh-baked bread that tastes like it must be all butter, but it isn't. Just feta, in healthy Mediterranean style.

Two other things worth mentioning. One is that they do a great brunch. I know, I know, you haven't had brunch since the late '80s: all that cream cheese and hollandaise went out with your size 3 dresses. But you can do a lot worse, calorically, than a Greek omelette. Or even better, if you crave Eggs Benedict every now and again but can't afford to sleep for the rest of the day, try their Artichoke Eggs: sauteed spinach and poached eggs on top of two perfectly- baked artichoke hearts, served Benedict-style. It's both light and decadent.

The other thing we have to talk about is ouzo. Now most of you will wince. You had it once or twice. Ultra-strong, licorice-y, and maybe you got too drunk.

You weren't drinking it right.

In Greece, ouzo is almost universally served over ice, mixed with a liberal amount of water: about one part ouzo to two parts water. The water turns the clear ouzo a pretty, milky white, and from a syrupy batch of lighter fluid to a refreshing late-afternoon drink... really!

Of course if you really can't stand the taste of licorice, there's always that Ketel One.

So... next time you find yourself at the Grove with an hour to kill before that movie, or pooped from fighting the Christmas shopping hordes, step into Ulysses Voyage, and into a little bit of Athens.

I Almost Forgot Dessert! - Mashti Malone's

Mashti Malone's
1525 N La Brea Ave.
Los Angeles, CA 90028
(323) 874-6168

143 N Maryland Ave
Glendale, CA 91206
(818) 662-0400

www.mashtimalone.com
Google Local Map



You folks with sweet teeth must think I hate you. I've been raving on here for over a year, post after post about appetizers and main courses: steak, tacos, sushi, noodles, tofu, you name it... and not once have I mentioned dessert. Fact is, I just don't have a sugar jones. I don't object to desserts, mind you. I dig a cheesecake or creme brulee as much the next foodie. But as a true metrosexual, I like to maintain my girlish figure while keeping a good buzz on, so I' usually pass on that flan at El Coyote (excellent, btw) or the what-the-hell-is that-du-jour at that Korean joint, and head home to spend my calories on a nightcap instead.

Unfortunately for my figure, Mashti Malone's Ice Cream Parlour is on my way home from just about everywhere.

We're zipping up LaBrea, and I see that quirky sign. (The legend is that when two Persian brothers bought the place to sell their exotic ice cream, they could only afford to change the first name on the sign left by the Irish former tenants.) "Mashti!" I scream, and we screech into the skanky parking lot the parlor shares with a skanky liquor store, a skanky laundromat, and The Lava Lounge.

Mashti's has a couple dozen flavors, all made fresh on the premises. There are favorites like chocolate and vanilla, butter pecan, blueberry. And they are really, really good. Award-winning, in fact, as the festoonery on the wall will inform you. But you go here for the Persian ice cream at the far right of the counter.

Made with a base of rosewater, the flavors read like the aromas of a bivouac on the ancient spice road: Creamy Rosewater Saffron, Orange Blossom, Ginger Rosewater. You could get 'em on a cone or cup, but why? You want the full experience, so order a "Mashti." It's a scoop of ice cream squished between two light, sugar-cone style wafers. It's a unique dessert in every way, from flavor to presentation. My wife loves the Ginger Rosewater, though it's a flavor I find odd in a sweet. Give me the Rosewater Saffron with pistachios: yellow like Indian pullao rice, creamy like a good French vanilla, and punctuated with big, juicy nuts.



And the best part is, you can take the experience home with you. Check the freezer in the corner, and you'll find their signature flavors by the pint, as well as plastic-wrapped Creamy Rosewater Mashtis-to-go. Though the sugar wafer is nowhere near as good frozen as it is fresh, they're still a staple in our freezer.

Face it, as long as you're food crazy-ing around L.A., tasting all those diverse ethnic cuisines , you might as well cap it off with a little detour to Persia on the way home. And I see there's a new Mashti outlet in Glendale, too!

The -- Okay, MY -- Final Word on the El Coyote Boycott

The time has nearly come to move further discussion of the El Coyote Boycott off of my food blog, and get back to describing the sweetness of a caramelized onion or a perfectly charred steak. El Coyote has become just one part of a much wider political, social, and legal issue, which I'm interested in and will continue to discuss over at infinitejess.blogspot.com. In fact, if you go there now you can see some pictures and discussion of Saturday's big rally downtown... where I saw quite a few familiar faces from El Coyote.

But since there's been such impassioned discussion on this board, I'll allow myself one last post on the subject.

I feel like I've been trying to be a voice of reason during what has been an emotionally upsetting time for regulars of the restaurant, be they gay or straight, and for the gay community that surrounds it. I truly appreciate the civil dialogue that's cropped up in the comments on my last two posts.

Last Thursday, I had a plan to dine at El Coyote in the early evening, but then heard about the planned demonstration there at 7. After, believe me, a lost night's sleep, I decided that I could support the freaked-out staff of EC and honor the protest at the same time, by showing up long before the protest started (so as not to cross a picket line), and then chatting with arriving protesters, when I left as they were arriving. I was helped in walking this tricky line, and developing coping strategies, by the best political strategist I know. Bly's take on boycotts is a must-read.

My group of six sat at the infamous Tate table (where Sharon Tate ate her last meal the night of her murder at the hands of the Manson Family). Billy, friend to every El Coyote regular, came by our table to thank us for our support in being there on what was going to be a nightmarish shift for the staff. We sucked down margaritas, fortification against the screaming, chanting, and horn-honking that could be heard coming from outside.

When we left, we talked, one-on-one, with some of the 175 protesters. All were understandably angry and frustrated; after all, 52 percent of Californians in our true-blue state had voted to take away equal rights granted to them by the constitution and the Supreme Court of California. A gentleman who gave his name only as Tom said he felt betrayed by manager Marjorie Christofferson's donation to Yes on 8; that whether Margie was an owner or not, his money, spent here over decades, was going to people who voted to taken away his civil rights, and he could no longer support the restaurant. He opined that if Margie was just an employee, she should be fired for her views. I asked if he would be comfortable being fired from his job for his political views. He said, "If I was a white supremacist... yes." This was of course impossible to formulate a suitable response to; there's no denying the emotion of being oppressed. We left, watching a sad scene of protesters harassing confused and frightened folks -- tourists, regulars, whoever -- leaving or trying to enter the restaurant, chanting "shame on you" and other, choicer epithets. As strongly as I feel about the wrongness of prop 8, this, I thought, is clearly not the way to win the hearts and minds of voters.

I went back to El Coyote on Friday night. There were still some protesters out front, maybe a dozen or so. But to my surprise the restaurant was pretty hoppin' inside. It was just... different. A straighter crowd. Much straighter. In fact, the management told me, and my conversations around the restaurant confirmed, that though there were a lot of extra-supportive regulars, like myself, there were also a lot of Mormons and other Yes on 8 supporters coming out to make their own statement.

Ouch.

I don't think this is the desired effect of a boycott.

Backlash against this boycotts has begun, from the most recent comments on my own blog to Tim Rutten's Op-Ed in the L.A. Times to the national media: I watched a debate on CNN
Sunday night where a pro Proposition 8 spokeswoman focused on "the hateful boycotts" and "harassment" of "Mormon employees of businesses" by the gay community. (I won't even tell you what Mike Huckabee was saying on Fox News!) This type of activity allows the H8ers to debate debatable tactics, rather than confront the larger issue of civil rights.

El Coyote has made every possible overture to the community short of "firing" Margie (the founder's niece), by making large donations on behalf of the restaurant to gay charities and even, as reported in the L.A. Times, gay and straight employees gathering personal donations totaling an amount five times greater than Margie's controversial 100 bucks.

Now, I'm not gay and this is not at the deepest level "my battle." Nevertheless, I will humbly offer to those of my fellow El Coyote regulars who happen to be gay this proposition: that El Coyote is not the enemy, it is an old friend, deserving of forgiveness. Do you really want to stay away while El Coyote -- a place where gay and straight used to hang out and speak the truth as only El Coyote margaritas can make you speak the truth -- stay away while El Coyote -- El Coyote??? -- transforms its business model into a hangout for Mormon families and Yes-on-8'ers?

Instead, why not take all that justifiable frustration and turn it into time and money donated to your local Repeal 8 campaign, energy at the phone banks during the next election battle, letters to legislators explaining, simply, that the majority does NOT have the right to deny civil rights to any minority group of law abiding, tax paying citizens.

I urge my gay friends to come back to El Coyote. Spend your time there doing as you have always done: relaxing, getting loose, and chatting -- nicely, please -- with the tourists and youngsters and oldsters in this diverse establishment, be they Mormons from Utah or bigots from the south or local blacks who voted for 8. Tell them how much this means to you. Tell them how human and compelling your stories are. Make El Coyote about what you're fighting for: love, not hate.

Tidbit: Del Crispy Fish Taco

I'm going to have to start posting some smaller items, so that you my readers have material to check out more often than the once a week or less I find time to post a full review with photographs and all. So let me just say this today. Have all of you who love good cheap eats tried the $1.49 Crispy Fish Taco at Del Taco? I know, all the real foodies believe you can't find any really decent food at any fast food establishment. I beg to differ. The crispy fish taco here, while maybe not up to the absolute best you could find in Rosarito or Ensenada, is the real deal. Two flour tortillas, cabbage, a light cream sauce, pico de gallo, and a squeeze of lime. Add some Del Scorcho sauce, maybe a little guac, and you're in Baja, dude. And there's a little something extra. The "Crispy" in the fish taco moniker is no lie, but it's NOT about the shell like you might think. It's the fish fillet. And the batter has a little rice crispy-ish crunch to it that makes for one satisfying taco. While the fish itself may not be quite as fresh and light as the best of Baja, it's not the fish stick you may be fearing. Really, trust me, check it out.

Soon, I'll do a full piece on Del Taco... there are some real delights to be had here, and I'll tell you about my friend Kent's Tuesday Taco Night ritual. It's worth the price of clicking here all by itself.

Taquito Revisitado -- Rodolfo's

Rodolfo's

8 Olvera St
Los Angeles, CA 90012

(213) 625-8501

Google Map

You may recall that some time ago, I posted a near-encyclopedic review of the numerous taquito stands lining the East side of Olvera Street. I concluded that while Cielito Lindo is the most famous, the best was Juanita's Cafe. I apologized at the end of the review for having mis-calculated my taquito intake on the way up the street, and being therefore indisposed to check out Rodolfo's at the top of the street.

Perhaps some of you saw the comment that appeared on the post a few weeks later:

you can't write a taquito review of olvera street without eating at Rodolfo's. Juanitas is good and you are right about the other restaurants, they suck (Luz del Dia excluded) but you started on the wrong side of the street cuz you would've eaten 10 straight up had you eaten at Rodolfo's and your review would have been totally different.i guess what i'm saying is you have yet to eat the best taquitos at Olvera Street... our taquitos kick ass. so come back and ask for Daniel and i'll give you the goods.

I went back to Rodolfo's. Now, even though I'm a blogger, I at least pretend to have some journalistic ethics. I rarely post about a place after only one visit, and I never let an establishment comp me a meal. Not that any have offered. But still, I would never have accepted special treatment from Rodolfo's, despite the invitation. That would not be fair you, my humble readers, who might not receive such preferred taquito treatment.

Besides, "Daniel" wasn't there when I asked for him.

But you know what? Rodolfo's taquitos do, indeed, kick ass. What sets them apart from the other tubes of greasy goodness on the block is the delicacy of the shell. Where Cielito Lindo's taquito is positively chewy, at Rodolfo's the tortilla itself manages to be crispy on the outside, fluffy on the inside, like a pastry or a perfect french fry. That's no mean feat to achieve in the 1/16th inch width of the flattened-maize medium. Only one small gripe: the stand's photographic menu tantalizingly shows taquitos served with a chunky, fresh guacamole, but it is in fact topped with that very different beast, avocado sauce. But it's a tangy, creamy one with a nice kick so no points deducted.


Add to that Rodolfo's delicious beef filling -- yes, it passes the whole-thing-wants-come-out-in-the-first-bite litmus test for stringy beef -- and Rodolfo's has clearly earned its spot at the top of the Olvera Street.

El Coyote Boycott News

I was out of the office yesterday, and so was unable to report on yesterday's meeting between management of El Coyote and local members of the gay community upset about the revelation that a member of El Coyote's family ownership had made a personal, $100 donation to the Yes on Proposition 8 campaign. I can be saved the time of describing the meeting blow by blow, as there is a factually correct account of it posted on shutupiknow.blogspot.com.

What the report fails to communicate is the level of upset among the El Coyote staff present. Each and every one I spoke to was visibly shaken, some crying openly. Each one stated clearly that although they disagree with Margie's personal position on the issue, that it is not the position of El Coyote as establishment or its management, so they do not understand the boycott. They truly wish everyone could just get along, and allow individuals have their opinions without threatening the well-being of the entire establishment, a gathering place for a uniquely diverse community. I tend to agree with that sentiment.

That said, it is not surprising that the meeting went the way it did, and it need not have done so. One important element is missing from the reportage that helps explain why it turned ugly so quickly. When Sam asked Margie if she would be willing to donate an equal or greater amount to Repeal Prop. 8, she deferred to management. Management stated "We know Margie is so upset about this, and she would take back the donation if she could."

But when Sam pressed his question, Margie refused to donate a C-note to the opposite side, which would have effectively "taken back" the donation. The deeds did not match the rhetoric. I suspect that if Margie had agreed to do this, to put some meat into her apology, the issue would be dead. But, sadly, it is not.

So... while I think the boycott is misguided, and its energy could be directed toward any number of larger, more complicit establishments, I understand and respect the anger and frustration of the community, and the need to make a visible protest of a visible target.

I had plans to dine at El Coyote tonight, at about 7:00... when the protest officially begins. I will honor the protesters by not crossing that picket line. But I will not boycott the restaurant before or after the protest. The gay (and Other) staff, nearly all long-serving, dedicated employees, and truly wonderful people, depend on my dining dollars to feed their families. Suggestions posted elsewhere that employees should "get other jobs" truly don't understand the nature of the restaurant: it is a family place in every sense, where owners, customers, and especially staff treat each other like family. One might as well suggest these employees "get a new mother and father."

You may see me in El Coyote the next few days... you will also see me at the Repeal Prop. 8 rally at City Hall on Saturday. I truly feel that's a more appropriate place to display our displeasure at the passage of Prop. 8.

Politics Meets Food -- The El Coyote Boycott

My novel, MY NAME IS WILL, is a cautionary tale about the danger of mixing politics and religion. I gave our friend Margie, the niece of the owners of El Coyote, a copy last week, but I doubt she's read it yet; now she's learning the lesson the hard way.

Margie appeared on a list of donors to the Yes on Prop. 8 campaign, which has led to calls for a boycott. Now as you know, I spend a lot of time at El Coyote, and I've spent some time here defending its kitchen. I'm going to spend a little more time defending it against a boycott.

Margie is variously described as the owner or the manager of the restaurant in various blogs and e-mails currently making their way around the 'net. My understanding is, she's possibly in line to take over someday; currently just an employee. When questions come up about the menu, or prices, or my and others longstanding request for some seafood, any seafood, she invariably refers us to the managers, Billy or Bobby. Billy and Bobby are both gay. In fact, I'd guess (with my fairly accurate straight man's gaydar) that a solid majority of the staff of the restaurant is gay. On any given night, particularly a Thursday (which has become an unofficial "gay night"; always amusing when I sometimes go there with Kent while Sa's at her belly dance class!) a majority of the clientele is likely to be gay as well.

I'm sure she's not going to need to hear from me about the mistake I think she made donating $100 of her own money -- and listing her place of work as"El Coyote Cafe" -- when I go there tomorrow or Thursday for dinner. But I hope that the boycott call doesn't hurt their business. Some of the wages that her family pays to all those gay employees no doubt made its way into the No on 8 coffers. I'd hate to take money out of the bank accounts and ti- takings of Billy and Bobby and Roberto and Jose and allof our other gay friends there, just because another employee (however closely related to the owners) prefers to donate differently.

We've talked with Margie quite a bit. She's the nice, tall, willowy lady who comes around with ice water and asks how you're doing. We talk about movies, current events, and, yes, politics. She's a Republican. So is almost half the country, and about four in ten Californians. She's also a lifelong Mormon (is there any other kind?). She was very excited about my book, and asked for a signed copy; I warned her it might be a little "racy" for her taste, but she wanted it anyway.

Perhaps when she reads the book, she'll get some reinforcement of the concept that toeing a church line on political issues is a slippery slope. But I think maybe she's already gotten that. From an apology letter posted online at shutupIknow, where there is some heated discussion of the issue:

I HAVE BEEN SICK AT HEART THAT ANYONE HAS BEEN OFFENDED BY ME.

I HAVE FAMILY, FRIENDS, EMPLOYEES FROM THE GAY COMMUNITY WHO ARE TREASURED PEOPLE IN MY LIFE.

I HAVE BEEN A MEMBER OF THE MORMON CHURCH ALL MY LIFE. I RESPONDED TO THEIR REQUEST WITH MY PERSONAL DONATION.

FOR YEARS THE EL COYOTE HAS FINANCIALLY AND GENEROUSLY SUPPORTED THE GAY COMMUNITY AND MANY OF ITS CHARITIES.

PLEASE BE OUR GUEST FOR AN EARLY LUNCH WED., NOV. 12TH AT 11:00 AM AT THE COYOTE AND ALLOW ME TO SPEAK WITH YOU PERSONALLY.

PLEASE CALL AND MAKE A RESERVATION AS SEATING IS LIMITED. (323) 939-2255.

Was Margie on the wrong side of this issue? I think so. Does the restaurant where she works deserve to be boycotted for it? I don't think so, but if you do, I'd at least go hear her out before deciding.

I leave you with a photo of one of the clearly-oppressed staff of El Coyote a couple of Halloweens ago. That's Roberto, affectionately known as Betty...

If Yucan't Go To Yucatan Yucan Go To Yuca's

Yuca's

2056 Hillhurst Ave
Los Angeles, CA 90027
(323) 662-1214
Mon - Sat. 9-6
Cash Only

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At this moment, Sa’s cooking dinner for me and I’m sure it’s going to be delicious. But the fact is I’m still full from my lunch today. I took her to Yuca’s Tacos & Burritos, and I had to keep ordering tacos to, you know, research this post.

For those of you who haven’t had the pleasure of visiting the Mayan Riviera, as the stretch of white sand beaches between Cancun and Tulum is known -- or was until it was washed almost completely away by Hurricane Wilma -- the food of the Yucatan peninsula is memorable for two things: pork and hot sauce. The food itself tends to be mild, but the habañero- and jalapeño- based salsas served with it are blazingly spicy -- which as you know is just the way I like it. And both the pork and the salsa are available in quantity at Yuca's.

Here's the dish.

It's the kind of taqueria that makes my taste buds do jumping jacks of excitement. The kind that, as we drive past, I'll say to Sa, "That could be the best Mexican food in the world! What if it is, and we never know?" It's a scary little shack in the middle of Los Feliz village, in the middle of Hillhurst, in the middle of a parking lot. Okay, actually it kind of is a parking lot. A handful of rickety particle board tables teeter with legs half on sidewalk, half on asphalt. A dozen or fewer garage sale wedding auditorium chairs make up the "dining area." There's a blue plastic tarp strung up overhead for shade. That's it.

But did I mention there's parking?

The menu is disarmingly, charmingly small. Burritos of carne asada, carnitas, machaca, chile verde, and pork cochinita pibil (more on that in a moment) and bean & cheese for you (ugh) vegetarians. Tacos and tortas of the same, minus chile verde. Special pibil tamales on Saturdays only. There's also a selection of hot dogs and burgers -- what up wid dat?

You go to the window, and Socorra Herrera, the doña who runs the family operation, takes your order and name... she writes it down on the very paper plate on which your order will be served. This is apparently an excellent system, as it's ready seconds, not minutes, later.

Whatever else you get, and it's all good, you must get the Mayan classic cochinita pibil. This is the local specialty of the Yucatan: it's their gumbo, their deep-dish pizza, their nigiri sushi, their cheesesteak. It's shredded pork that's marinated in spices and steamed in banana leaves. Mmm, yes, it is good as it sounds, and the version here is terrific. What's in it? Achiote, a staple of Mayan cooking. (For info about it click here.) Cumin, definitely. Maybe a bit of cinnamon? Something citrusy, either orange or lemon; I'm thinking orange. Red onion. Mild chilies. It's like the best BBQ pulled pork you can imagine, only not nearly so sweet or spicy, subtler, more tender and juicy. It totally fuckin' rocks.

The carne asada is flavorful and toothsome. The carnitas... well, it's Yucatecan pork. Less unusual than the pibil, but just as tasty. The machaca pictured above, which can be uninteresting on a lot of taqueria menus, is delicious here. It obviously gets the same careful marinade treatment as the pibil. It's incredibly juicy and bursting with flavor. The chile verde is unusual. It's not the tomatillo stew that is my personal favorite food in the world (Sa makes the best version of it I know), but a pulled-pork concoction with tender stewed jalapeños that's addictive. The flour tortillas have that slightly gritty feel that I believe says "eat me" or simply, "lard!". So do the beans.

For two bucks, you can buy a bottle of either the red or green "El Yucateco" brand habañero ultra-hot sauce, or borrow one from the rickety tables, to jack up the heat once you've tasted a bite or two "straight" to appreciate the subtle flavors. Wash it back with a lemonade (the only drink on the menu unless you count coffee, milk or orange juice, which I don't) or your favorite beer or soda from the liquor store two steps away. You're in parking lot heaven.

But I'm sure most of you know about Yuca's already. It's right there on Hillhurst above Franklin. Surely you've already been there. Right? No? You'd better go.

It might just be "the best Mexican food in the world."

Killing Time Until The Polls Close -- Houston's

I had big plans today. I was going to work the Obama phone banks, then try to find somewhere where I could get a classic American hot dog and a slice of apple pie. I was going to photograph it for you, to get you all warm and fuzzy about the U.S. of A. so that if you hadn't voted yet, I could inspire you to go out and do so.

I worked the phone banks, me and Donald Sutherland. I was calling Virginia and Ohio. People were mostly very nice, and many had already voted, and voted for Obama.

But then do you have any idea how hard it is to find someplace in Beverly Hills that serves hot dogs, apple pie, and martinis? Did I mention I needed a martini?

I went to Houston's at the Westfield Century City mall. I don't, as you know, post bad reviews. So I won't say much about it except to say that while they didn't have hot dogs, they also didn't flinch when I ordered extra arugula on my left wing liberal California arugula eating chardonnay drinking cheesburger. And after requesting olives for my martini, twice, they finally located some. Okay, here's a picture of the burger, and the martini.




Now on to the serious stuff. Get out and vote if you haven't already. If you have, and you're scouring the internet looking for early results... you, like I, will have to wait 'til polls close in Virginia at 4:00.

That's 45 minutes from now. It's relocated to http://infinitejess.blogspot.com. That's where I blog about Everything But Food, and I just posted a recap of my recent trip to Washington D.C., and the reading of my novel at the Folger Shakespeare Library. There are some photos to inspire you about great presidents past, and perhaps great presidents future.

Happy Election Day!

Where the Food Craziness Began -- Lupe's Mexican Restaurant

Lupe's Mexican Restaurant
1710 Thousand Oaks Blvd.
Thousand Oaks, CA
(805) 495-3573

Maps and Info at Yelp.com

This is the very first restaurant I ever went to. My memory of that first visit is as blurry as this dying-battery photo. Yet I do remember it, even though I could only have been 2 or 3 at the time. Lupe's used to be set back about 50 yards from Thousand Oaks Blvd., tucked into the oak trees against the hillside and painted a bright, fiesta green. I remember the screen door you went through to enter, and I remember formica and naugahyde. I think I had a hamburger. I remember a fly.

That photo is actually a painting of the restaurant during those days, that hangs on the wall at the current Lupe's.

By "current," understand that it hasn't changed significantly since that last remodel in 1966 or so. Even the black velvet paintings of toreadors lining the interior walls are the same.

I will receive comments about why Lupe's sucks, about the better Mex food even in Thousand Oaks, about how it isn't "authentic" Mexican food, blah blah. In this case, it doesn't matter. It was my first restaurant, my favorite restaurant, and it informs everything about my take on food since.

I used to go once a week. My mom would take me bowling on Thursdays. She didn't bowl, but she'd watch me, and keep score, and then we'd go to Lupe's. They had a good jukebox. I remember my favorites as "Yesterday," "Raindrops Keep Fallin On My Head," "Sugar Sugar," and "ABC", which places me there a lot in '70-71.

The food hasn't changed since then. Not an iota. And I suspect it hasn't changed much since 1947, when it became the first established eatery in the Conejo Valley. As one post on Ventura.com says, "It's as old as the oaks in Thousand Oaks."

Lupe's still serves California Mexican cuisine of that era, which happens to be what I love. Scratch that, it doesn't "happen" to be what I love... I love it because it's what I grew up eating, right here.

Originally owned and operated by a sweet and tough lady named Martha and named after her eldest daughter, Lupe's has the distinction of now being operated by Lupe herself. That's cool.

The salsa and chips are perfect, the salsa served in little metal bowls. Ground beef tacos are quintessentially SoCal tacos of the era. The Chile Colorado is delicious, smoky and intense like it's been stewing in the pot since 1947. Combo plates are just like you want 'em, big and inexpensive and cheesy and tasty.

But what keeps me coming back are the taquitos. They're utterly addictive: fresh, crispy tortilla; stringy-yet-moist hand-shredded beef; a pile of fresh guacamole and shredded lettuce on the side; finely shredded mild cheddar on top, some Thousand Island dressing, and a couple of black olives to boot.



Did they always serve it with sour cream? I don't think so; I've never cared for sour cream on Mexican food. When I was ten, I remember winning a bet with my waitress that I couldn't eat two orders of 'em (that's six taquitos) plus a guacamole and ground beef taco. She lost. If she'd been paying attention she would never have made the bet because I ordered and devoured the same mountain of taquitos every week. These are, you heard it here, the best taquitos in the world. Because they were my first.

For someone who's lived and traveled and eaten over the world, it is supremely satisfying to be able to re-visit one's first foodie love and find it entirely unchanged.

If only "Yesterday" were still on the jukebox.

Big Fish Story -- Sushi Dan

Sushi Dan

8000 W. Sunset Blvd., #A2020
Los Angeles, CA 90046
(323) 848-8583
Google Info


11056 Ventura Blvd.
Studio City, CA 91604
(818) 985-2254
Google Info


I know the stated purpose of this blog is to identify "cheap ethnic eats," which evokes (as it should) images of holes-in-the-wall in Koreatown, Thaitown, Little Tokyo, and East L.A.. I suppose, Sushi Dan is "ethnic," as mush as the ubiquitous raw fish can be said to be truly Japanese anymore; and true, the lunch special is an extraordinary deal. But somehow a spacious marbly room that shares a mall with Virgin Megastore, Crunch, and Sam Ash at the entrance to the Sunset Strip seems unlikely for this space. Suffice to say I'm no slave to labels, man. I'll review whatever's making my taste buds do jumping jacks at the moment. And Sushi Dan fits the bill.

Here's the dish.

It's on the top floor of the Virgin Megastore mall on Sunset Blvd. and Crescent Heights, right across from the Laemmle Theaters. You know the Laemmles. You were there to see an indie film, how many months ago? Damn, when was the last good indie film playing at the Laemmle, anyway? It's a space that's seen a couple of restaurants come and go, most recently a pretty decent fresh-Mex grill.

A big modern room with full bar greets you as you enter, along with the obligatory cute young Japanese hostess. There are a large number of dining room tables, and an expansive sushi bar... sadly, mostly empty. The best tables are in the back, past the huge aquarium whose seemingly continuous issues with water clarity are not, I hope, an ill omen for the restaurant. There, five or six booths line the windowed back wall, affording panoramic views of the Hollywood Hills and the east end of Sunset Strip: SkyBar, Chateau Marmont, the Marlboro Man-cum-iPod Girl billboard.

I confess I've only been there for lunch; why go any other time? There are three lunch special combos, all of which offer a mix of traditional nigiri sushi with one of the restaurant's many specialties. For $9.95, (that's right, $9.95), you get miso soup, five pieces of sushi and one of a selection of a dozen or so rolls. This may not sound like much. It is. The slabs of fish on the nigiri are huge. On my first visit what already looked like a gigantic salmon slab on my sushi turned out to be twice as big... the slice was double thick, folded under the rice. It was the entire end of a fillet which would probably be counted an entire "serving" at your local Weight Watchers. But for all the emphasis on quantity, the fish has been uniformly excellent on every visit. And refreshingly, the five varieties of fish reflect what people (well, what I, at least) in the 21st Century order at sushi bars: the salmon is complemented by hamachi, albacore, maguro, and seared tuna instead of the standard 80's palette of tired shrimp, fishy mackerel, cheap tamago and rubbery squid that make up so many combo plates.

But the highlight of the meal is your choice of one specialty item that comes with the combo. I've yet to work my way through the menu, but I can vouch for a couple. To call the Calamari Tempura Roll "generous" is like calling Gary Busey "quirky" or the Bush Administration "pesky." It's probably bigger than your head. The roll itself is tasty, all crisp nori, tender calamari highlighted with avocado, cucumber crabmeat and eel sauce. But it's invisible under a PILE of bic-lighter sized pieces of additional calamari tempura. Imagine your favorite steakhouse's "fried calamari" appetizer done Japanese style and dumped on a single maki roll, and you've got the idea. It's delicious, and if you are light luncher, probably enough for two. The Yellowtail Collar is a large piece of fish grilled to a slightly charred crispness on the outside but yielding nooks and crannies filled with an extraordinary amount of tender, flaky fish.

Downsides to Sushi Dan include spotty if friendly service. Several orders have been botched but corrected with apologies stopping just short of seppuku. My urgent need for a Bloody Mary at a hangover brunch brought a "so sorry." Apparently the batch of mix had gone bad waiting for anyone to order it. This leads to concern that the slow turnover could lead to fish laying about longer than it should. You can help. Go to Sushi Dan. Order fish. Demand a Bloody Mary. And then go check out that indie movie... I hear The Calamari -- sorry, The Squid and the Whale -- is good.

A Closer Noodle - Mishima

MISHIMA

8474 West 3rd Street, #108

Los Angeles, CA 90048

323.782.0181
Google Local Info

I seem to spend more and more of my life these days at Cedars Sinai Medical Center, for the general poking, prodding, screening, testing, and tweaking that comes with middle age. (Since when did 47 become middle age, anyway? If I wasn't so tired all the time , I might protest!) Of course I always park at the Beverly Center and walk the two blocks, saving ten bucks or so for parking. And, since I was trained as a child to expect treats after visits to the doctor, I always take myself out to lunch on the way back. But where are you gonna go for lunch at or around Bev Cen? CPK? How 80s. Grand Luxe Cafe? Yuck. PF Chang's? Double yuck. Chipotle? Well, yes, but I'm middle aged, so I rarely have a burrito for lunch anymore.

I go to Mishima. Tucked deep in the corner of a strip mall on Third Street just west of La Cienega, it's a squeeky clean, reasonably priced, impeccably tasteful cafeteria of the type you expect to find in Little Tokyo, not on the Westside. It is, as my friend Kent would say, "sooo Japanese," from the minimalist, brushed metal sign out front to the cool marble bar that offers counter seating inside.

I first discovered Mishima when searching for Udon noodles, and there are some who maintain these are the best in town. I wouldn't argue. They're thick, tender on the outside with a springy, manly resistance on the inside. The variety of broths are few and simple: tender flank steak, pork, chicken, or tempura. The traditionally mild and subtle flavor can be juiced up with the chili powder or seaweed-and-sesame sprinkles on the table.

Other faves: the curry udon is rich and hugely satisfying comfort food for a rainy day. Also available here is an excellent bowl of Sansai vegetable udon, Japanese mountain vegetables that include a variety of mushrooms, greens, and herbs that I guarantee you don't know: honeywort, bog rhubarb, shuttlecock fern, or spikenard, anyone? The names are unfamiliar, but if you like veggies but are bored of broccoli, green beans, peas and carrots, these are delicious and different. Other items on the menu range from soba noodles, sushi and sushi combos to rice bowls, from bento boxes to light and delicious salads of albacore or soft shell crab.

The only things on the menu more than ten bucks are big bento boxes and combinations of soup and rice bowls (like the one pictured here, of plain udon noodles with a bowl of slightly sweet, tender miso pork don with onions and mushrooms over rice) that are easily big enough to share; nearly everything else is in the $5-9 range.


Add a $3.75 pint of draft Kirin Ichiban, and that not-painful but certainly-invasive last procedure recedes into the distance, a memory now pleasantly clouded like a Japanese mountain landscape... a landscape abundant with bog rhubarb, who knew?

Taylor's Steak House -- What Amurrcans Do In Koreatown

Taylor's Steakhouse

3361 W 8th St Los Angeles, CA 90005 (213) 382-8449 Google Map 901 Foothill Blvd La Cañada/Flintridge, CA 91011 (818) 790-7668 Google Map

I think the best food to be had anywhere in the world right now is in our very own Koreatown. But not everyone can eat kimchee, tofu, pork belly and the like. Check that -- most everyone can, but will they?

For those of you who are squeamish about internal organs or have bad memories of Korean food from the war or too many M*A*S*H reruns, there is an oasis for you in Koreatown: Taylor's Steakhouse. It's a piece of perfectly preserved midcentury nostalgia food that'll take you right back to the Eisenhower administration when we were fighting Koreans on the battlefield, not the golf course, and we'd only eat their food if we were caught behind enemy lines with Hot Lips but no hot dogs.

Here's the dish...

Smack in the heart of Koreatown, surrounded by tofu joints, BBQ houses, noodle shops, and spas staffed by Korean lesbians in black lace undies (or so Sa tells me -- I sadly have yet to experience this first hand) is Taylor's. Founded in 1953 as "Taylor's Tavern," the operation moved to its present location on 8th Street near Western in 1970. And while the Caucasian population of the 'hood has since moved out to the suburbs, and the Latinos have vacated to wherever they vacate to, Taylor's remains, unchanged. It's classic steakhouse food: shrimp cocktails, Caesar Salads, and steaks of various cuts and sizes. Period. I think there's a fish on the menu somewhere but why bother? (This is not vegetarian-friendly food.)

Taylor's "world famous" item is their "culotte" cut, described as "the tenderest portion of the sirloin -- only two cuts per steer!" Sa imagined that they just take those cuts, and throw the rest of the cow away. How very 1950's. The full sized, 16-oz. $26.95 culotte is big, thick, and juicy, perfect for those (like me) who find filet mignon too flavorless, and like their meat to fight back a little bit, but have been burned once too often by leathery sirloin. If you're not the type to drive home in the big fin Caddy with white sidewalls to Jane Wyatt and the kids, you can get a more 21st-century sized "dinner" cut of the culotte for $19.95, including your choice of potato. Awesome deal. The house "Molly Salad" that comes with full dinners is a half-iceberg head, quartered and drenched in delicious blue cheese dressing with diced tomatoes -- a great version of a classic dish. The steak fries are underwhelming; get the baked potato, which is worth the price of admission by itself. It's got a toothsome, been-cooking-all-day skin, and it's like buttah inside... literally, if you're as liberal with the butter as I am.

The decor is just the way I like my steakhouses: all red vinyl booths and dark paneled walls adorned with bad seascapes and photos of sports stars, crooners, and regulars. Those guys sitting at the table next to you wearing big glasses and talking point spreads look and sound like Mafia, but they're actually former USC head football coach John McKay and buddies... identified by Sa from his picture in the foyer. The waitresses are all "honey" and "sweetie." The martinis are great, and retro-old fashioned in size: no birdbaths here. The wine list is smallish but there are some good buys... try the EOS Zinfandel ($24) with your steak.

It may not be the BEST steakhouse in Los Angeles -- the best I've had was probably at Mastro's in Beverly Hills -- but it's superior to places like Musso & Frank or Dan Tana's, and it's unquestionably the best bang for the buck. We're talkin' steak dinner for two with a good bottle of wine and maybe a salad to share for under a hundred bucks. At those prices you can even go when it's not your anniversary, without having to sell your Barbie collection to pay for it.

There's a nearly identical branch of the restaurant in La Cañada/Flintridge, but I recommend Koreatown, because while you're there you can scout out where you want to go for your next Korean meal -- or get that special "spa treatment."

While I Get The Attraction -- Cassell's Burgers

Cassell's Hamburgers
(or, if you read the small sign in the window, "Hambugers")
3266 W 6th St
Los Angeles, CA
(213) 480-8668
Google Maps, Reviews, Info


In case you haven't been paying attention, Cassell's Burgers has consistently rated among the best burger joints in Los Angeles for many, many years; right up there with Apple Pan, Tommy's, the recently departed Mo' Bettah Meaty Meat Burger, and everybody's favorite In 'N' Out. L.A. Food Crazy loves him a good burger, yet I'd never made the pilgrimage to Cassell's, until yesterday.

I have probably made more hamburgers in my life than anyone you know. Not only did I work at Carl's Jr. as a teenager, but I still cook a couple hundred a year, most of them in one day -- I insist on personally grilling the burgers at our annual summer party. So I have opinions about 'em. And my opinions and prejudices very much color my take on Cassell's.

Cassell's has been making burgers since the thirties, and the room, tucked inconspicuously on an entirely nondescript corner in the Koreatown stretch of the Wilshire corridor, has a cool wartime vibe. The burgers are slung cafeteria-style. You grab a tray and order your burger, 1/3 or 2/3 pound, cheese or no. Your burger is cooked to order and the bun toasted in a single proprietary double broiler-device while you stand and read the articles on the wall extolling the virtues of the burger to come.


One lengthy L.A. Times feature posits three varieties of burger-stand burgers: "primo patties," which use high quality beef and usually fried and served with a plain bun to highlight the quality of the patty; mid-level "char-burgers," which are more likely to use flame grilled patties and sesame seed buns; and "grease bombs," where condiments are dominant, the patty merely a protein layer to act as a platter for the other ingredients. Who knew?



Once your burger is plated and delivered, you sidle down the condiment bar. This a truly impressive smorgasbord of burger bits: homemade mayonnaise, ketchupy relish, another spicier relish, hand-leafed lettuce, and most delightfully, beefsteak tomatoes and slices of onion that are uniformly huge and ,in fact, sized exactly to cover the entire beef patty. The resulting burger is an aesthetic delight, a stack that rivals the Capitol Records buildiing for rounded symmetry.




Then why did I find the Cassell's burger, while good, not great?

Part of it is personal taste. Cassell's claims to be a "primo patty" joint. You can even buy their grade A patties by the dozen to take home and cook yourself. But personally I prefer the flavor of a burger with grill marks and a hint of charcoaly char, and a sesame seed bun. And I frankly didn't find Cassell's patty to be that interesting... to my palate, ground beef patties rarely are.

That said, if you believe that a good burger is essentially about the condiments -- a greasebomb fan -- this is the place, because the condiments and your ability to adjust their quantities to taste is fantastic.

Oh, and those fries are terrific!

Noodles!

Did you hear the earth-shattering news? A bowl of 4000-year old noodles was recently unearthed in China, solidifying the Chinese claim to their invention. Read the LA Times article here. All foodies bow down and thank the Ancient Chinese and their noodle-y secrets.

In a bizarre synchronicity, at the same time this discovery was being announced I happened to be eating noodles. I was in San Francisco... I know this is supposed to be an LA blog, but I'll occasionally mention foodie bits outside the basin. You never know when you'll be in the Bay Area with a hankering for a four-millennia old source of nourishment, right?

Here's the dish...

My niece and fellow food crazy Erin lives near on 16th Avenue and Judah... out in "the Avenues," as Bay Aryans call it. The
Avenues are, and have always been, home to a large Asian population. You know what that means. Yummy.

The noodles we had for lunch were just around the corner from Erin's apartment, on a block chock-full of Asian eateries. She recommended two Vietnamese joints; one for rice plates, the other for noodles. The rice plate place has noodles, she said, but if you want noodles, the place across the street is better. Sensing the importance of noodles on this day in history, I opted for the noodlery.

Pho Hoa Hiep, which somehow translates to "Kevin's Noodle House," sports standard noodle house atmosphere: Spartan decor; fluorescent light; all business. Just the noodles, ma'am. The menu begins with Pho, the gold standard of Vietnamese fare: thin rice noodles in a beef broth, with steak, tripe and, other better-not-to ask-if-you're-squeamish bits of cow served with a plate full of other condiments like basil leaves and lemon that you add to taste.

But it was one of those cool, crisp, clear fall days in the City. It was the first inkling of comfort-weather. So I got the beef stew soup with egg noodles (pictured). Oh, man. For the first several bites, I didn't even add any condiments, the seasoning was so perfect "as is." A rich beefy stock (think Campbell's Vegetable Beef-weight) swims with a kaleidoscopic film of chili oil and black pepper. Thin egg noodles were more al dente than I'm used to in Vietnamese soup -- a good thing. But mostly, it was about the generous quantity of hunks of dice-sized flank steak, which was just the right combination of toothsome and tender. It would shred along the grain with a little effort from a chopstick. Although quite lean, the bits of fat on some pieces were creamy and tender, not gristly. And the meat had absorbed the spicy red broth to such a degree that every piece was infused with its stewy essence. I slowly began adding condiments, one by one, to experience the flavors change. By the time I added my second tiny spoonful of the searing infused chili oil on the table, it was too spicy for Sa to handle... not me.

I learned two things this day: the Chinese invented noodles; and there's more to Vietnamese soup than pho. Pho sure.

I'm now going to have to find an equivalent bowl here in LA. Ideas?

New York Pizza Round Two -- Village Pizzeria, Tomato Pie, Little Toni's

Village Pizzeria
131 N Larchmont Blvd
Los Angeles, CA 90004
(323) 465-5566
Google Maps, Reviews, Info

Tomato Pie
7751 1/2 Melrose Ave
Los Angeles, CA 90046
(323) 653-9993
Google Maps, Reviews, Info

Little Toni's
4745 Lankershim Blvd
North Hollywood, CA 91602
(818) 763-0131
Google Maps, Reviews, Info

As I expected, my last post about New York style pizza in Los Angeles generated a mini-firestorm. Not so many comments here, but a record number of daily hits on the site, a nice link from la.eater, and recommendations from half a dozen friends about their favorite NY style pie in town. Your dedicated Food Crazy is nothing if diligent in following up recommendations, particularly if by doing my culinary duty I can escape my low-carb diet for a day or two. So here are the latest entries, and the current standings.

Village Pizzeria I've been up and down Larchmont Blvd. dozens of times in the past decade. I get my hair cut there, I go to Le Petit Greek every now and again, and there's some great Italian bistro food. But somehow I'd never noticed Village Pizzeria until my friend Terry (who cites his NY pizza faves as Grimaldi's in Brooklyn and Lombardi's in Manhattan) sent me here. It's very much in the same mode as Lamonica's. The walls are covered with sports memorabilia from New York and (oddly) San Francisco. It took me a while to figure out why photos of Jerry Rice adorn the walls of a Brooklyn pizza parlor: apparently, the first Village Pizzeria outpost opened in SF. It has the feeling of a step-up-and-order-a-slice place, but it isn't. It's table service, and after standing unnoticed at the counter for a bit I was told to take a seat. The slice that arrived is what I, before I began this quest, imagined to be classic New York pizza. Ultra thin, floppy crust. My friend oB told me, if you can't fold it in half lengthwise, it's not New York pizza. Village Pizzeria fits the bill.


My slice featured spicy, ultra thin sliced pepperoni, curled up around the edges like Quisp cereal, and with a little puddle of grease in each one. The mozzarella was unusually tangy. My Coke came in a classic, logoed red plastic cup. Jerry Rice says, "two thumbs up, this is good NY pie, go Niners." Another branch is scheduled to open in December, 2015 on Yucca and Ivar in the heart of Hollywood.

Tomato Pie My friend Tom sent me to his favorite, Tomato Pie on Melrose. Tom extolled the owner's obsessive chemical analysis of Los Angeles vs. NYC tap water in his effort to recreate that elusive dough. Again, this is a fine slice.


The dough thickness is somewhere between Vito's and Village. The sauce is tangy, the slice is foldable; but the vaunted crust, chemically analyzed though it may be, didn't work for me. It was slightly undercooked, and a little chewy for my taste. But I'll go back to give it another try. It's worth the trip if for no other reason than to sit at a sidewalk table and watch the fashion parade that accompanies the end of classes at Fairfax High across the street. I note that a goodly number of students sally forth from their studies and charge immediately into Tomato Pie.

Little Toni's Little Toni's is really in a different category from the other joints here. It's a classic, old school, red naugahyde and red sauce sit down Italian, complete with Shakey's style stained glass in the windows. I worked for three years less than a quarter mile up Lankershim from this spot. How did I not know about it? This is the old school Italian of your dreams, kicking all manner of ass over Miceli's, Antonio's, and the like.


Yes, it's dark. Yes, the bottles of house chianti are cheap and drinkable. Yes, there is as much crust on the waitresses as on the pizza. But the pizza is simply sublime. I was with a group, so we had a big combo of sausage, onion, garlic, mushroom and olive.


Even with all the toppings, the crust managed an almost supernatural combination of crispness and lightness, equally so from the tip of the slice to the outer rim. This would not pass oB's fold-in-half-test; the crust is too firm. But for me, the pizza is greater than the sum of its parts, an eluctable and indivisible whole that includes the comfort of the surroundings, the beverage that washes it down, and the capacity to share it all with friends in a big comfy booth. And Little Toni's delivers, pardon the pun. It's my new favorite VENUE for "NY Style" pie in town.

But my favorite NY style pizza... just the pie itself? It's still Pizza Bella, the odd little booth at the back of Whitley Heights market on Franklin and Highland. I reviewed it here. It's not perfect... it can take 10-15 minutes to get your slice, delivery takes forever, the puchasing process (get tag here, go to front of market to pay, return with receipt) is arcane, and you have to endure the gaze of those Star Wars standees while you wait. But the slice itself is, for me, unbeatable.

The current standings (until I get another must-try recommendation) for best NY-style pizza in Los Angeles:

1. Pizza Bella
2. Little Toni's
3. Vito's
4. Lamonica's
5. Village Pizzeria
6. Tomato Pie

NOTE: I wrote this yesterday to post today. I see in today's obituaries that Sam Martorano, the founder of Casa Bianca in Glendale has passed away. I love Casa Bianca, though I can't see categorizing its unique style as being "New York." But I do plan to go have a pie there, just to pay my respects.

My Crispy Taco Jones: Henry's Tacos

Henry's Tacos

11401 Moorpark St.
North Hollywood, CA 91602
(818) 769-0343
CASH ONLY
Google Local Info

It's been so long since I've posted! Been hunkered down, finishing the first draft of my novel. It's done, it's not perfect yet, but the word so far is good. Thanks for asking!

Despite my absence here, I have not stopped eating, nor embarrassing my wife by snapping pictures of food in restaurants and lunch counters around L.A. So I have a lot of research in the can. I hope you'll hear more posts from me in coming days.

For some reason, this fall I've been thinking about almost nothing but crispy ground beef tacos. You know, the kind mom used to make on Taco Night. Chopped tomatoes, shredded iceberg lettuce, grated cheddar, a pound of ground round, Lawry's Taco seasoning, Old El Paso shells. The kind that Del Taco or (less successfully) Taco Bell deals in.

There are many great versions of this humble taco in L.A. The most famous perhaps is Tito's Tacos in Culver City; but for me, Henry's Tacos in Studio City wins the horse race by a nose... because of the sign.


I love that sign. Maybe it's because the restaurant opened the year I was born, but that Jetsons-Meets-Shag aesthetic just makes me all glowy every time I see it.

I own the T-shirt.


Henry's perches on an anonymous corner in the Valley, unchanged since the street was dominated by big-fin American cruisers populated with guys trying to look like James Dean. The tiny menu is the kind I like, lean, mean, and focused on what the joint does well. We got beef. We got beans. We got rice. We got cheese. Chicken? Fuck off. You get your beef and/or beans in three different formats: taco, burrito, tostado (note the retro spelling), and "taco burger."


That's the only oddity here: the ingredients of a taco stuffed into a hamburger bun; a Mexican Sloppy Joe. Ain't that just the ultimate in early sixties muliculturalism?


Some like the taco burger, or the bean or combo burrito. They're fine, but too squishy for my taste. When I come here, I'm after that dialectical interplay between crispy shell and soft, savory beef that makes the hard shell taco so irresistible. Henry's Tacos ($2.40) have that in spades. The beef is mildly seasoned; it profits by addition of the little tubs of "hot sauce" (not salsa, please, remember this is 1961) that come on the side. The shell is perfectly crispy, less greasy than some other excellent hard tacos in town but not as cardboardy as either Mom's Old El Paso or Taco Bell shells. The shredded lettuce is fresh and crunchy, the real cheddar cheese perfectly sharp. The single slice of half tomato gives a tangy semblance of something healthy. If you must have a side dish, the beans, with green chile sauce added, are tasty.

But that's the great thing about a Henry's taco. you don't need a side dish. Just order another taco... and a t-shirt of that fabulous sign.

Be careful not to dribble the hot sauce on your swell new shirt.