Showing posts with label Valley. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Valley. Show all posts

Wednesday, November 18, 2015

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!

Sunday, October 11, 2015

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.

Tuesday, October 6, 2015

Chili Dog Smackdown Part II

At the end of my recent post on L.A. chili dogs, I asked you, my readers, if I'd left any of your faves off the list. Thanks to responses on Facebook and Chowhound (no one comments on actual blog posts anymore!), I was forced out of journalistic duty, to try all of your recommendations. Here's the roundup of other places I visited, and my final rankings. Will Carney's reign supreme?

Original Tommy's
2575 Beverly Blvd
Los Angeles, CA 90057
(213) 389-1682
www.originaltommys.com
Yelp It



And by Original, I don't mean any old shack that claims to be an Original Tommy's, even if it is part of the same chain; I mean the one and only original location of the Original Tommy's, on First and Rampart, in the no-man's land between Silver Lake and downtown. I've had a few dozen burgers here in my time, but it had never occurred to me to try their chili dog (in fact I don't think I knew they made one), recommended on Chowhound by malibumike.


Now I have. It's... fine. The chili is Tommy's: say no more. They make the perfect chili for dogs and burgers, dense but still fluid, full of all those secret savory spices that are a chili-maker's heart and soul. Simply delish. As for the rest of the dog, it didn't quite carry its weight. It's possibly the largest, messiest of the dogs I tasted. While it was flavorful, it was a little bit on the tough side, without being snappy. In a dog, one wants the resistance on the outside, tender juiciness in the middle. This was curiously reversed on my Tommy's dog (sounds weird, saying that!) Also the bun was a little stale... as if it had been sitting in the sun behind the streetside shack... oh wait, it probably had been. A possible disadvantage to the "original" location, or at least of the streetside service area as opposed to separate one set back from the street.

Cupid's Hot Dogs
9039 Lindley Ave
Northridge, CA 91325
Yelp It

This was by far the most-recommended other dog, and with good reason. I was told to go to the original branch across from the entrance to Cal State Northridge. On approach, I was immediately comforted that they make hot dogs, and nothing but hot dogs. This is the entire menu:

Hot Dogs - 2.50
Cheese - 0.25
Everything is - Mustard, Onions & Chili
Upon Request - Ketchup, Relish, Cheese

Chips - 0.75

Drinks
Small - 1.00, Medium - 1.25, Large - 1.50
Refills - 0.50
Bottled Water - 1.00
Milk - 0.75
Instant Coffee - 0.40
Hot Tea - 0.40

***Tax Included On All Items***

I love that when Cupid's makes you "One with everything," it's just the way I like it: mustard, onions, chili.


This is bare bones doggery, man. No indoor seating; three outdoor picnic tables. And it's an excellent chili dog. If I lived in the northeast reaches of the Valley, it would be my go-to. Cupid's chili is unique in this group. I'm no expert on chili, but this one is more of a fluorescent orange color than a brick red. My guess is it's greasier. It's also got more of tang; perhaps the presence of more tomato in the sauce? And although there isn't a lot of beef in it, it's what I consider a delightful texture: creamy. Mind you, this isn't the type of meat-forward chili you'd want to eat a bowl of; it's strictly a hot dog topping. The dog itself was good, but (especially after Tommy's" it seemed a little small; you'd definitely want two to make a meal here, where I'm usually good with one. The bun was steamed to perfection.

Skooby's
6654 Hollywood Blvd
Hollywood, CA 90028
(323) 468-3647



This is also a dogs-only joint, a couple of years old, on Hollywood Blvd. It's a hipster/retro version of the Cupid's vibe. Which is fine.



What's unique and delicious about Skooby's is their buns: more a French sandwich roll than a bun, nicely steamed to a chewy but not difficult texture. The dog is snappy, tasty, but unfortunately, the chili here isn't in the same league as the others on this quest. It's bland and watery.

Papaya King
1645 Wilcox Ave
Los Angeles, CA 90028
Neighborhood: Hollywood
(323) 871-8799
www.papayaking.com
Yelp It


The new kid on the block in Hollywood, and the current "it" dog. A New York institution, but I gather it's more because of their papaya drinks and shakes (I tried one, too sweet for me!) than their dogs.

Their chili dog (by far the smallest of the group) is okay, flavorwise, but somehow it doesn't have the left coast balls to the wall panache that homegrown chili dogs do; chili is not, after all, a New York calling card. This pup just doesn't stand out against the rest of the group here. I plan to come back, though, and try a New York style dog along the lines of the ones to be found at the original Nathan's on Coney Island, with those orangey grilled onions. (Perhaps the next quest...after my triglyceride levels have recovered from this one.)

Fab Hot Dogs
Loehmann's Plaza
19417 1/2 Victory Blvd
Reseda, CA 91335
(818) 344-4336
www.fabhotdogs.com

This place makes a big to-do about hot dogs, with a vast menu of replications of regional hot dog types and toppings. As I say in my reviews, I don't post negative reviews, but I thought readers would like to know that I did order a dog here. Suffice to say I didn't finish it.

And finally, after all this tasting, I went back to Carney's on Sunset Strip, just to make sure. Yeah, I'm sure.

My final rankings in the great Chili Dog Smackdown of 2015:



1. Carney's
2. Cupid's
3. Pink's
4. Coney Dog
5. Original Tommy's
6. Papaya King
7. Skooby's
8. Fab Hot Dogs

Monday, July 13, 2015

Tofu! Tofu! Tofu! - Vinh Loi Tofu!



Vinh Loi Tofu

18625 Sherman Way, No. 101,
Reseda
(818) 996-9779
Open 7 am - 7 pm
Cash Only

Google Local Info

If you're like me, you're an equal-opportunity diner. Just because you love few things in the world more than a perfectly grilled 14-ounce New York strip doesn't mean you can't appreciate the delights of a nice, fresh salad, a good veggie stir-fry, or even... tofu.

Some otherwise reasonable people I know won't go there. Any food that has to sit in water in your fridge must be for pussies, they figure. And the average Buddha's Delight at your local Chinese greasery isn't likely to persuade them.

Vinh Loi Tofu just might.

I can't claim to have found the place, as Linda Burum's piece in the Los Angeles Times sent me slavering there a couple of weeks ago. But holy bean curd, this place is good.

It's yet another outpost of cutting edge cuisine in a dodgy strip mall; this one in the deepest depths of Reseda. Ambience: one counter, five pictures of food on the wall, one cooler with drinks and other specialty items, one handful of formica tables.

It's my first time there, and Kevin Tran, owner, proprietor, and cashier can tell. As I and my lunch date study the menu, he says, "First of all, don't order off the menu. Get what I tell you."

We do.

First of all, it's Vietnamese food, which means it's good to begin with. Vietnamese uses all of my favorite ingredients: tender, sliced, savory bits swimming in flavorful broths among delicate noodles, seasoned with lemon grass, chiles, and cilantro, juiced up with a squeeze of lime.

But what Kevin Tran does with the savory bits is truly amazing.

Anchoring all of the spicy salads, stinging hot soups, and fresh spring rolls -- where you're used to beef, duck, pork or shrimp -- is humble tofu. Tofu that, in a dazzling array of preparations, manages to to taste, feel, and sometimes even look like the beef, duck, pork or shrimp of the original.

The beef- and pork-style tofus in the spicy noodle soup are as different from each other as cow and pig: the beef, thin-sliced and slightly chewy, the pork tender and succulently chunky. And they're both as different from the pillowy hunks of what-you-know-as-tofu in the same soup as different can be.

The "seafood" with wide, flat noodles (first photo, above) arrives topped with what looks for all the world like a perfectly breaded, grilled, sliced calamari steak. It tastes a little more like shrimp than calamari, but there's no actual seafood involved. When my vegetarian dining partner, entirely skeptical, asks Kevin if all this is really vegetarian, he replies no, it's vegan!


The slices of browned stuff in the spring rolls? Tofu.




The absurdly duck-like stuff in the duck salad? Vegan.


Only the fried tofu with dipping sauce looks and feels familiar. Yet with its perfectly crispy, chile-flaked crust, it's the best version of fried tofu I've ever had, with the possible exception of the world-famous Fatty's in Singapore.



And it all comes from Kevin's very own tofu factory in the back of the restaurant. It's fresh. It's one-of-a-kind. I guarantee you, you CAN'T get these dishes, like this, anywhere else, even if you're food crazy like me and make the requisite pilgrimages to far-flung parts of the county for exotic Asian food. And it's right there in freakin' Reseda!

With apologies to Soul Coughing: We are all going to Reseda, someday, to die... for the tofu.

You'll have to excuse the lack of detail here. I rarely post about a place after visiting just once, especially when I'm not even allowed to look at the menu, but I had to get this up, to make sure people keep going there, to make sure Kevin's place is a huge success. You gotta go. And I gotta go back.

When are we going?

Saturday, July 4, 2015

Waiter! -- This Food Is Too Fresh!



First, apologies for infrequent posts of late. I'm scribbling about food when my novel is being uncooperative, but I've had a good few weeks of writing -- which means less time for foodblogging. This is a good thing.

But you know, I've had something gnawing at me for awhile. My plan in this space was to write only about places I like, places that I think you should check out. I've had some pretty awful meals as research that you'll never hear about. But I have a little bit of rant for today that was inspired by my visit to Hot's Cantina in Northridge.

I read about Hot's when it came up #1 in an AOL Citysearch poll of L.A.'s top five Mexican restaurants, beating out places like La Serenata de Garibaldi and El Cholo. Not that I don't think anyplace could beat El Cholo for Mex food, but I'd never even heard of "Hot's." So I made the Conrad-like journey up the 405 to the Deep Valley to visit its shopping mall location.

Now over the years, I've been a fan of "Fresh Mex" joints. I loved the fish burritos at Poquito Mas, the shrimp tacos at Baja Fresh, and when you could finally get decent carne asada at the Beverly Center thanks to La Salsa, I was overjoyed. I still love the lobster burrito at Rubio's, but that's a topic for another post.

But you know what? I'm bored with the whole genre, and Hot's was the straw that broke the charbroiled chicken's back. The decor is fabulous, all tropical Mexican indoor thatch. There's groovy '70's deep tracks playing on the sound system. The waitresses are hotties of the type that only exist in that part of the Valley. The chips were delicious, greasy and stuck together three-thick the way I like 'em. The salsa bar had the usual array of mild green, hot red, and smoky chipotle sauces, fresh lime and onion/cilantro mix. My food was, indeed, fresh, and it comes on those faux-vintage metal beer trays.
But the recommended "BBQ Chicken Taco" was as bland as could be: a flour tortilla with a skewer of chicken breast covered with an utterly lame BBQ sauce. The fresh mex salad, boring. And the special board freaked me out. Sushi Burritos? Shrimp Tempura Tacos with Mango Salsa? Give me a freakin' break.

It was this day I decided: I'm sick of "Fresh Mex." I'm sick of that same salsa bar, the same tender grilled chicken, the watery salsas, the underseasoned pinto beans, the soggy burritos, the whole I-can-make-this-spicy-if-I-drown-it-in-Tapatio rigmarole. To hell with "fresh." When I go for tacos or a burrito or a plate of chile verde, the last thing I want is "fresh."

The Mexican food I love is poor people's food, a couple pieces of pork and beef stretched by a thrifty old matriarch into a week's worth of meals. I want chile colorado that's been stewing in that abuela's pot for days. I want pork that's been marinating for the adobado for a week. I want the crispy, caramelized edges of slightly burned barbacoa. I want bits of blackened carne asada, scraped from the same overworked grill that also gives the tortillas a bit of meat flavor when heated. I want thick smoky salsas that have congealed a little to concentrate the texture and flavor. I want moles that take months to prepare and taste like every ingredient in a barren cupboard was used. And every now and again, I want lard in my beans. I want my Mexican food down, amigo, and yes, I want it a little bit dirty.

Sure, I'll go to Poquito Mas if it's there, have a couple of tacos and some pasty black beans, and it'll be fine. But whereas a few years ago I couldn't wait for a Baja Fresh or La Salsa in my neighborhood, now that they're there I find myself wishing that just one of them had an abuela behind the counter, her chile verde getting just a little crispy in the bottom of the pot.

For now, I drive past those places, and go to Yuca's.