Intelligentsia

(Via)

Here's my dilemma. I was ready to write about Intelligentsia coffee's revelatory "Angeleno" iced coffee beverage, and tell you all how great it is, and how I still think about it, weeks after I tried it.

I was ready to tell you that I've tried, daily, to recreate this magical elixir, and that I've hedged my bets that a lifetime of happiness hinges upon my success doing so.

Now, though, I'm not so convinced. In finding the picture you see above, I also found out that, allegedly, this tasty treat has four-- four!-- shots of espresso. Even people who believe coffee is good for you can't possibly believe that much coffee is good for you (nor would they, or anyone else, think spending $5 on a coffee beverage is a good idea even infrequently).

So I'm torn. This is a delicious beverage, and you should head down to Intelligentsia, make nice with the hipster barista at the "concierge" counter, and try it. But you should also keep reminding yourself, as you gulp it down, that this is a sometimes treat-- it's too expensive, and it's too caffeinated.

But heck, while you're there, try one of those fancy pastries. I didn't, but I regret it, mostly because I'm a sucker for everything red velvet (except for literal red velvet). Share it, though, because if you eat it by yourself, you won't be able to fit into those $200 skinny jeans that you hope people will think cost you $10 at Goodwill. And then you won't feel comfortable going back to Intelligentsia ever again.

You will, though, because they brew a damn good espresso.

Deliciousness: A+

Price: C-

Location/Decor: A

www.intelligentsia.com

Bazaar by Jose Andres

The SLS Hotel at Beverly Hills

(Photos by Daryl! The complete album is available here.)

I think we all have that friend we love, but only in small doses. He stays the weekend twice a year, you two paint the town red and, by Sunday, you're ready to get rid of him. Then Tuesday rolls around and you're already looking forward to his next visit.

That's kind of like Bazaar for me. It was three hours and, at points, it felt just plain gimmicky (I'm looking at you, $16 "magic mojito" that was really just cotton candy with rum and mint poured on it). At other times, though, a complete reimagination of food I thought I knew. And in a good way.

Here are some standouts:

This is "not your everyday caprese salad," and it's true. I can tell you, though, that should this dish ever become the "everyday" caprese salad, we wouldn't need war or religion. Those little

white mozzarella balls? They're liquefied, and they burst in your mouth. You get all three flavors-- the cheese, the tomato and the basil-- all at once, and all perfectly balanced.

Lest you think all I've got here is praise, take a look at these babies. They aren't mutant lobsters; they're Bazaar's reimagining of a Philly Cheesesteak. And, well, they aren't very good, despite the waiter's claim that they're a signature dish. The "air bread" it's served on? Sort of like a fancy hollowed out creme puff, minus the sweetness, and filled with too much cheese. Throw a few pieces of Kobe beef on top (sparingly!) and that's the sandwich.

Here's one of the two shrimp dishes we ordered. In fact, everyone at the tabled ordered it, so you know we had high hopes. And it certainly delivered. But if these shrimp were potential mates, and you were a high school girl (work with me here), they'd be the "nice guy"-- reliable, and someone to become good friends with, but not someone to date. Though they appeared on the side of the menu devoted to fantastical creations, they looked pretty traditionally prepared to me.

Same goes for the steak. These two plates were the [insert your favorite character actor here] of the meal.

Then came dessert.

The big winner for me was definitely the "Passionfruit Coconut Floating Nitro Island." Not too much passionfruit, and just the right amount of coconut, on a pedestal of perfectly prepared bananas. The texture was kind of like the cross between a whipped cream and a soft meringue, and it was probably the best dessert I've ever had that didn't include a lick of chocolate.

And so, three hours later (and two seatings), the meal was over. I was ready for it to be over too, not in the least because no chairs we sat in offered back support, and I'm too old for these designer seats.

Still, I loved that meal. And while I've had my fill of molecular gastronomy for the time being, I can't wait for my next adventure.

Ciudad

This was my second trip to Ciudad, which should tell you enough-- that it was good enough the first time to warrant a repeat visit, even though it's all the way in icky Downtown LA.

We went for Paella on the Patio, their blandly named special feature on Tuesday nights. Apparently, they save all their creativity for the menu-- a welcome change, if you ask me.

Anyway, each Tuesday features a different two paellas (you can choose one or get a half-and-half plate of both) and an appetizer for $30. Not a bargain by any means, but quality comes at a price. Ciudad, like its sister Border Grill, is up on all the latest dining trends: all food served is cage- and hormone-free, with no trans-fats and all those other things that might help assuage your guilt for spending so much on a meal. They're also a sustainable seafood partner and so on.

Yesterday's choices were eggplant and bell pepper paella and chicken, both of which were delicious, though I did favor the chicken. I also ordered the Argentine Gaucho Steak with Chimichurri sauce and two sides: fried plantains and garlic yuca. I don't know, I guess we were living it up.

Everything tasted fantastic, but I was still a little taken aback by the price, which seems to be happening a lot these days. $80 for two people is a bit excessive.

Overall, I'd give Ciudad a B+. Go for the happy hour (which, admittedly, I haven't tried, but if it's anything like Border Grill's, I can't wait to) or tapas Sundays, and avoid the rest.

Tom Sawyer Diner

This is a restaurant you'll probably never visit, and you have no reason to, even if you're desperately hungry at the wee hours of the night in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania.

And, honestly, I wouldn't write about it here, except that, in all honesty, I feel like things have gotten a bit too serious over at ZagatWho as of late. Gone are the funny pictures, and the witty comparisons of our food to some long-forgotten childhood memories, replaced with-- surprisingly enough-- real writing about restaurants.

So I invite you to slum it with me as I write an entry about a restaurant entirely undeserving of one.

The theming of the Tom Sawyer Diner ends at the name-- there is no other mention of Tom Sawyer, a whitewashed fence, or Mark Twain anywhere in the establishment. It's sort of like the Cheesecake Factory in that way, except they actually serve cheesecake (albeit not in a factory-like environment). This is also where comparisons to the Cheesecake Factory end.

I admire their honesty-- the ubiquitous diner dessert glass case did feature desserts, but the staff had chosen not to remove their tell-tale price tags and wrappings, betraying any notion of a home-cooked pie. Store bought through-and-through.

The food was less than unremarkable-- it was hardly edible (if CitySearch rated in Harrisburg, this place would get a negative score). Virginia mentioned that her tuna melt "smelled like death" and the beef gravy atop Andrew's meatloaf tasted like it was probably distilled from the sweat of the eponymous singer-songwriter. My open-faced turkey sandwich featured turkey meat older than the Berlin Wall, with the consistency of Butterball sandwich meat (pressed turkey product, I suppose). The baked mac and cheese looked like coffee cake and tasted like nothing.

And the service. It started out nicely enough, but quickly took a nosedive. I sort of blame myself for this-- why, Ravi, must you be so picky? After she dropped off our plates, I kept eyeing her suspiciously (not out of lust-- she was, as Virginia pointed out using an Arrested Development reference oft repeated throughout the trip, a bit of a "shemale"). She eventually cut herself on something at the bar, but continued to serve food with an open wound on her hand (occasionally sucking the blood out of the wound because, well, that's the sanitary thing to do, right?). I began to count the health code violations in my head, if only so that I wouldn't have to focus on the taste of the horrible food. Eventually, she got a bandage, but it wasn't big enough to cover the wound in my heart. Or the vomit.

Ravi

vindication

Following the trend on this blog lately to link to food-related news articles, I present my contribution:

The Five Second Rule should be used carefully

http://www.slashfood.com/2007/02/16/the-five-second-rule-should-be-used-carefully/

Ravi

Dessert @ Simon|LA

Let's start with the basics: SimonLA is located in the newly renovated Sofitel(LA) on Beverly Blvd. across from the eponymous Beverly Center.





And now the meat of the matter.





We went to Simon to try their signature dish-- the Junk Food Sampler. At $25, it's not a dessert meant to be sampled by just one person. Nor could you without dying.





What you get varies slightly-- In other words, I didn't get what was in this picture. We got: cotton candy, the rice krispies, two cupcakes, two "snowballs", a vanilla milk shake, a fair size of caramel corn, a bag with three cookies inside, and a scoop of sorbet (which seemed out of place on a junk food platter and dangerously approaching the "moderately healthy" category).

Like memories of my childhood, nothing stood out. Everything was good-- and a reasonable facsimile of the real thing-- but the novelty wore thin fairly quickly, even though we only ordered three to split with ten people.

We tried other desserts too-- some strange avocado-chocolate puddingish thing that actually tasted pretty good and a banana-caramel chocolate cake that also scores high marks for taste but was, ultimately, lost in my desensitized taste buds.

Do what Simon says and go try it once, if that's your thing.

Rustic Canyon Wine Bar and Seasonal Kitchen

Inspired by Surafel single-handedly breathing new life into the food blog, I'm going to probably write 2-3 entries today. Alas, my long-in-the-works Happy Hour Round-Up isn't quite ready for the big leagues.

Last night I went out to Rustic Canyon Wine Bar and Seasonal Kitchen, encouraged by the promising review from the LA Times and the yuppy-sounding name (the Prius felt right at home).

But I won't be returning.

Let's start with the name. The restaurant, located at 1119 Wilshire Blvd, overlooks a strip mall with nary a canyon-- or any rust, thank God-- in sight. I'm all for idealistic names, but you have to have the theming to go with it-- just ask Disney's California Adventure (or... don't).

Walking in the restaurant, I hadn't felt that conflicted since I found out The O.C. was finally ending (once it got good again, but before I could get bad again). The decor is pretty nice and mellow-- some would say stark. But the acoustics are awful-- it might have been the loudest restaurant I've ever eaten at, and whole "communal table" idea pushed things over the edge, to the point where I felt like I had to yell at my dining partner to carry a conversation.

The food was good but overpriced. In all, a glass of wine cost about $10 dollars, bringing the total meal cost to over $50 for just one person (no appetizer-- just drink, meal and dessert). I had the chicken-- and while the chicken was perfect, the strange cabbage and risotto combo underneath added some interesting flavors. Still, good chicken. But nothing truly daring or remarkable.

The money would have been better spent at a therapy session-- at my personal favorite, the Rustic Canyon Whine Bar and Seasonal Bitchin' (that's the obligatory pun, admittedly weak, for this entry).

Overall: Don't go.

(to other food bloggers here: since we all know Jane has the market cornered on super-detailed numeric rating systems, how's about we go for a simpler "go/don't go" standard rating system?)

BLD

Like others who write for this blog (and maybe even people who don't), I have a hard time naming my favorite restaurant. There are too many factors-- are we talking about food only? or food and price? or food and ambience? There's no one answer.

Until yesterday. Even before my food arrived, I knew I had found my favorite restaurant in LA.

Opened just a week or two ago, BLD has it all-- food, environment, friendly servers, and fairly reasonable prices for the quality of food. A few items on the menu are over $20, but nothing is over $30-- we're talking Cheesecake Factory prices. Desserts are about $7.

The restaurant comes from the same team of chefs that brought us Grace. I ate at Grace, and I loved it, but it was pricey-- about $120 for two people.

BLD-- which stands for Breakfast, Lunch, and Dinner-- cost much much less when you don't include the booze. And about that, beware: I had a Long Island Iced Tea (I was with my parents, and that's apparently my dad's favorite drink) that set me back a whopping $11. For one drink! I can't stress the need for a pre-party enough, people.

I had the construct-your-own-dinner option: I chose the hangar steak with the garlic nage sauce, some fancy name for green beans, and 'taters (of the mashed variety, though they also had a fancy name).

The food, as I said before, was delicious. The service was attentive. The chef came out to meet people. All of that was great.

But I really enjoyed, apart from the food, the atmosphere. I'm a casual guy, but most places with great food require pants. No such requirement here. Come as you are-- the wait staff wears t-shirts and jeans, so you won't feel out of place.

And come early (and often). You probably won't regret it.

Ravi

Eat Well

I suppose I should count myself among the fortunate. Part of the reason I don't write about every place I eat in this blog (though I will try my best to catch up) is that all good food now seems to taste the same-- delicious, but of the same (high) quality. It makes for happy tastebuds and a boring review.

We're talking about the Graces, the Wilshires, the Violets, the Fords Filling Stations, and Fogos of the world. The freshest ingredients wrapped up in an enchanting ambience.

And then you have places like Eat Well. There are 3 Eat Wells scattered throughout the greater LA area, and I knew I had to try it when LA.com said that it's "rare a true Angeleno foodie hasn't stopped by an Eat Well at least once." Well, ok, maybe that's not the exact quote, and I shouldn't have put it in quotation marks, but I'm no journalist.

Whatever. They said I had to go, and being a follower, I went. And boy was I disappointed. The service was rushed, despite the fact that there were only two other tables occupied in the restaurant (which should've been my first clue). And while I appreciate the open kitchen, the food that came out of it was bland.

My vote: in the $5-10 price range, it's more expensive but less tasty than Chipotle. Stay away, unless you're in the neighborhood and crave diner food (in which case you probably don't belong in West LA).

Ravi

Mrs. Knott's Chicken Dinner Restaurant

There's a song that comes to mind, and I'm not proud to admit it, but you've all heard it. It's by The Fray (will they still be popular in the fall... say, around September 24th or 25th?) and I think it's called "Over My Head."

Heeding Kathy's warning, I hadn't eaten all day (some would argue that, by the time we arrived, I was so famished my stomach was tied up in Knott's, but I wouldn't stoop that low with a pun).

The "deets":
- Salad
- Soup
- Unlimited buttermilk biscuits (while I remain partial to the Fogo de Chao biscuits, these were still delicious)
- Side dish: corn (everyone's wise choice at our table) or a weird-sounding ham+cabbage number
-3 pieces of fried chicken
- mashed potatoes and gravy
- Your choice of boysenberry sherbet or a fruit pie.

In the short time I've lived in LA, I guess I've become "LA." Food isn't enough. Ambience counts for something in my book, and Mrs. Knott's has none (well, it has a truck stop ambience...) but, more importantly, no air conditioning. It was sweltering in there, people. For that matter, virtually all of the "California Marketplace" shops had no a/c, which isn't very Californian.

But back to the food. The chicken was far and away the star of the meal. I won't bother with the sides, because they were predicable and not stellar (you've probably eaten corn before). The chicken, however was moist, tender, and white, with a crispy brown skin. Delicious.

In many ways, Knott's Berry Farm is merely a shadow of its former glory-- the park was sold to Cedar Fair LP about ten years ago, and the food businesses (jams, etc.) were sold to ConAgra Foods about eight years ago. Inexplicably, Cedar Fair's first plan was to add a replica of Independence Hall to their parking lot. I don't know why. I'd like to think the restaurant also deteriorated (because it's easier to blame corporate accountants for cost-cutting than genuine employee negligence)-- once spotless, its most recent regular inspection cited violations for vermin and other small insects in the food preparation areas. Had I known this before... well, I wouldn't have had the opportunity to try the chicken.

And the chicken made it worth the trip.

Ravi

Panera Bread

How you let me down.

Oh, I've been before-- which is what makes this post so hard to write. Panera, how I loved you. And how you've hurt me so.

Eric was hungry. Kathy, Colin, Eric and I were driving down Wilshire trying to decide what to do. I suggested Panera and everyone else agreed (they were all first-timers).

We got to Panera. I went to the menu (I had already eaten, but there's always room in my tumbly for a baked good).

Kathy asked, "Ravi, are you going to order something?"
I answered, never one for word variation, "Yeah, probably a muffin or something."
"But what about the grade?"
OH GOD.
I glanced up and there it was. Panera got a B! Panera, a chain restaurant that can afford to pay for reinspections, settled for the B!
But you know what, I ordered anyway (more about that on my personal blog).

As I made my way to the line to order, there was a vision usually reserved for my nightmares: a basket of bread, in which they had placed several loaves, and from which sampling patrons would have to tear a piece of the bread off, and (if they so chose) dip it in olive oil.

EWWWWWWW.

This picture is far too large:




-->Ravi

Diddy Riese Hot Dogs

Working under the assumption that no meal is too trivial to be blogged about, it's time to talk Diddy Dogs (as I now call them).

Problem is, I may never call them by that name again. Indeed, the old Diddy Riese should stick to making cookies, because the hot dog was a little disappointing. Of course, when price gets factored in, I'd probably eat them again-- $1.75 for a hot dog and soda can only be beaten at Costco (but then, what can't be beaten by Costco? Whenever my mom would go to Costco and ask my dad what he wanted, he'd always say: "a new wife," and then she'd get offended and pretend like he hadn't told that joke before, which to me establishes Costco's frequently superior quality-- so much so that my mother would feel threatened by the big box retailer's bride selection).

The main problem with the Diddy Dogs was the way they were served.


Imagine your pre-made hot dog rolled up in a longer version of these puppies (canine imagery galore!). It just isn't right.

Bonus points for having Strawberry Slice on tap, though. You just don't see that kind of dedication to a soda fountain anymore these days.

Next time I'll just stick with the cookies: Cinnamon Sugar, Candy Chocolate, and Chocolate Chip.

-->Ravi

Ford's Filling Station

After I got over my bout of pancake fever (see entry below), Joanne and I took a trip to Ford's Filling Station, located at 9531 Culver Blvd, deep in Culver City's burgeoning fine dining scene (part of the overall transformation from "Westside slum" to "wow, this city has more than just roads to the airport" the city is currently undertaking).

Wouldn't it be cool if you were so rich that you could open a restaurant (Chadwick's), sink it deep in debt, close it, and then open another one? If your name is Ben Ford and daddy (Harrison of such gems as Firewall and Hollywood Homicide) is your version of a small business loan, you can!

Let me give you the highlights, in bullet-points, as I have no narrative this time around:
-Trendy but not unwelcoming ambiance
-No Dept. of Health grade posted (they have an A, so they should be proud!)
-Kinky service. And I don't mean sexy-- I mean it had kinks. They took our menu before we could order and our waiter must've been working on some sort of commission because he oversold the $7 butterscotch pudding like it was yesterday's fish. What's worse: we bought it. Bill Cosby hasn't been this embarrassed since Leonard Part 6 was released.
-One single-stall bathroom per gender. The women's room had a carpet. Men's, unlike Days of Our Lives, didn't have enough soap.
-Bread was DELICIOUS. Just enough garlic to keep things interesting.
-Salt and pepper were served in weird mini-bowls that, as Joanne pointed out, could lead to some unsanitary salt-pinching (it's like penny-pinching but can cause scurvy).
-Brook trout, like Brooke Shields, was decent but not particularly flavorful/talented.
-Seated very promptly.

Don't let your hopes get as high as Josh Holloway before he tapes Lost (like I did) and you might like it.

Orange County: where good bargains go bad.

If I retired in Orange County I think I'd have to hire a live-in chef.

The day began early at 9:00AM, which, on Saturday time, approximates 6:00AM. Fortunately, I didn't have to throw a tantrum to get Mickey and Kathy to drive out of our way to Ikea for breakfast.

IKEA
We saw their $0.99 breakfast advertised in front of the store whilst on our way to San Diego the weekend before (see previous entry). Hours (nay, DAYS) of internet research later, I craved it-- what could be wrong with $0.99 for two strips of bacon, scrambled eggs, and seasoned potatoes?

Nothing, except for the crazy/mentally unstable IKEA employee who served us. Basically, imagine a whole lot of crazy wrapped up in sass with a nice sprinkling of "the Health Department ain't the boss of me" and you've got the woman that served us our food.

Despite the odd environment of the "Bistro" (which, apparently, isn't normal for an IKEA store), I decided to splurge: lingonberry pancakes for $1 more and then a cinnamon bun and coffee to split with Mickey for another $1. While the eggs/bacon/potato portion of the breakfast tasted good, the coffee was watery, the cinnamon bun tasted stale (despite being freshly baked) and the lingonberry pancakes had the texture of the forearm of one of those tough guys who likes to put out his cigarette butts on his person. Burn marks aplenty. Lingonberries are tasty, though.


such hopes and dreams...


ikea breakfast (worth every penny, all 200 of 'em): swedish pancake, lingonberry, potatoes, eggs & bacon (also note, free tropicana juice)


had the ikea staff been on their a-game, they wouldn't have let these babies go unpaid for. they are quite difficult to open however.


A for ambiance.

TORTILLA JO'S
Let me start by saying that I'm generally opposed to "restaurant groups"-- companies that operate multiple facilities with no real focus on the food type, but rather the income segment they're trying to capture. Tortilla Jo's, operated by the Patina Restaurant Group, pleasantly surprised me-- the food, while probably not authentic, was tasty and plentiful.

Still, it came at too steep a price for me to go again. Orange County has tons of cheap Mexican food restaurants, and even though I haven't tried most (or any) of them, this place won't make my Top Ten, simply because $15 for a burrito is too much money.

The environment was pleasant and fun. The wait: almost unbearable after a day at the park (TJ's is located in Downtown Disney).

Basically, I have no doubt Tortilla Jo's is the best tasting and best value restaurant in Downtown Disney, but that's like being the smartest kid in the slow class. While I love Disney, and generally don't mind handing them my hard-earned cash, Downtown Disney Anaheim is a little too "we'll distract you with pretty buildings while we rob you blind" for my taste.


ravi's burrito and strawberry margarita (also note: ravi made the keen observation that their chip to dip ratio was off. they gave tons of chips, and not enough dip for it. however, both were quite salty and tasty)


mickey's carnitas (w/ beans + rice). he was disappointed to report that their carnitas were not tender.


my wet burrito (sans cheese, sour cream and beans). mexicans hate me. it looks albino because i can't operate the flash.


"I SAY, I DEMAND SOME SERVICE!", he bellowed.


My face immediately after some kid popped the balloon of another kid. Another note: Tortilla Jo's margaritas very strong. You could still taste the tequila in Ravi's strawberry (this ain't no Acapulco's) and I could practically whiff the alcohol from Mickey's from a foot away.

In summary: Fortune magazine missed the mark, apparently, when they claimed IKEA was one of the top 100 places to work, and Disney hit the mark entirely when planning a shopping district to win the hearts and wallets of guests.

OVERALL:
Ikea:


Tortilla Jo's:


Chipotle:


All photos and photo comments posted by Kathy!

Lickity-Split

3 Locations, plus one online: www.lickity-split.com

Bottom line: Citysearch lied. Best Ice Cream in LA? Not even close. I'd put Lickity-Split somewhere between Ben and Jerry's and Yoplait.

With the texture of melted ice cream, frozen custard is allegedly all the rage in the eastern United States. If there's one thing I hate more than people who always tell me about how much better everything is in Europe, it's people who tell me that folks on the east coast are more sophisticated. To paraphrase a movie quote, more or less, from Jack Nicholson's finest: sell your arrogance someplace else-- we're all stocked up here.

The restaurant was empty when we got there, which should have been a clue (that we're still in February should've been a clue too).

9 of us went, and 9 of us were sick of the stuff by the time we had our last bite.

Weirdest of all was the scene that transpired between the restaurant worker (RW) and Eric (EC)-- this is as best as my memory can recount right now:

[Eric finishes his sundae. RW approaches with a broom after sweeping up the rest of the eatery.]
RW: I just emptied that trash bin. If you throw your trash away in there, I'll fucking kill you. We have cameras and I'll hunt you down.
EC: That's funny because I already threw my trash in there.
[they high five]
[it's incredibly awkward for everyone.]

Overall, lickity split made me feel:

























--> Ravi

New look

Here's Mindy's new design for ZagatWho. I'm not entirely sure she would have taken credit for it herself, so I'm writing this to make sure everybody knows Mindy designed it.

Campanile

http://www.campanilerestaurant.com

Honestly, I was underwhelmed.

We went for our Campus Events Directors' Dinner, meaning that ASUCLA picked up the tab, but did I get my money's worth? I don't think so.

I had the fluke (puns abound) on a whim. Nothing fishy there (it was fantastic). Actually, all of the food met or exceeded my expectation, except for the dessert, which was mediocre at best. Sharing ownership with La Brea Bakery (at one point), the pre-meal bread was naturally the best I've ever had.

But the service killed the meal. I know we were a big group (9) but we sat there for over three hours-- essentially the duration of their entire dinner service. People came and went and came and went while we sat waiting for someone to take our order. And trust me, we earned the service-- we probably spent enough money to cover the salaries of the wait staff for the evening.

When our server did come, she was helpful and attentive.

If you know me, you know I hate/thrive on awkward moments (if only to talk about them later), so it should mean something to you that while we were tabulating out tip I said, consciously within earshot of the staff, that the service was disappointing and we should reflect that opinion in our gratuity. Oh, they heard. And they best recognize.

I don't know what else to write. This entry sucked.

(A note about the entry: I usually include pictures, and I was going to attach a photo here of a morbidly obese man-- someone that roughly resembles a very large man sitting at the table next to us that thoroughly entertained Aiko. But I couldn't bear the Google Image Search results, so you're spared.)

Ravi

24 Hour Dining: Canter's Deli

419 North Fairfax, LA

I'd been to Canter's once before, so I should have known to expect mediocrity.

24-hour joints like Canter's and Fred 62 are meant to be experienced only in the wee hours of the morning-- what passes for acceptable food at those hours become Dennysesque at best when the sun rears its bright head. And it was 2am.

I had a fruit bowl. Last time I had the hot open-faced turkey sandwich (also at around 2am-- a bad idea). The fruit bowl was decent and not outrageously priced, which is more than I can say for Swingers (and their $8 bowl), but the service was so-so and the environment shared frightful similarities with the dining hall of a retirement home (both in clientele and decor).

Their pickles put me in a bit of a sour mood. Call me old-fashioned, but I believe that when a restaurant publishes in their menu "Try our world famous _____," said food item should be amazing. And yet these pickles-- which were delivered to our table for free-- were the worst I've ever had. They were still 98% cucumber, which (coincidentally) makes them 98% bland.

I should've just sliced them, put them on my eyelids, and gone to bed.











-->Ravi

Breadbar

When I was little my mom used to say that if I didn't behave she'd send me to prison, where they'd only feed me bread and water.

If they served bread from Breadbar, then I'd look forward to life in the slammer. (I don't know who I'd kill-- vehicular manslaughter, of course, because I don't want the death penalty-- but it would probably be a Baja Fresh executive or someone else responsible for introducing some sort of horror into this world.)

More of a regional detention center than your local jail, Breadbar delivers the goods to several restaurants in the area, including the Wilshire Restaurant.

And like any institution run by the government, they suffer from subpar customer service and a workforce that exhibits less motivation than a brick. Instead of greeting us when we entered, the server didn't even pay attention to our arrival-- eventually we had to ask for a menu. Likely graduates of The Milford School, these employees only speak when spoken to. We got our food after a party that arrived after us, and once we were done, we just sat awkwardly while no one got us a check. No one bothered to check up on us or offer water refills, and we were sitting five feet from the counter. During our visit though, every employee I saw did find the time to stuff their face with bread.

Awkward moments abound when we found out they mislabeled their bakery display case, incorrectly positioning a $4 dark chocolate bread loaf under the label of a $1.50 chocolate croissant. What was a bargain at $1.50 became decidedly less so when offered at $4.

Without the warm embrace of federal subsidies (like sick people who commit crimes and go to prison just because it's significantly cheaper than actually paying for the medical care-- the analogy continues!), prices were a bit on the steep side. $9 for a filling chicken sandwich or salad.

The food certainly was tasty, but I would prefer the bread to come for free as part of a much larger (albeit more expensive) meal or a life sentence. That's just how I roll.

(Okay, I'm REALLY proud of that last pun.)

Overall, Breadbar made me feel more or less:


-->Ravi

Easy as cake? I think not!

Let me preface this entry by saying that I know WKMTZ is designed for us to post restaurant reviews. But I'm in Davis right now and that isn't really possible, since any Davis restaurants I review are probably of no consequence to you. You may, however, some day have to suffer through my cooking.

I raised to believe that cakes should celebrate something. Yesterday I decided to celebrate my love of chocolate by baking my first cake ever-- a Grand Fudge Cake with a recipe from Ghirardelli.

Not since the ant infestation of 1999 has the Dehar family witnessed such a disaster. I made the cake competently and followed all of the directions, including the ones that seemed superfluous to me ("alternate adding the flour/sugar mixture and the milk, beginning and ending with the flour").

Not a perfectionist so much as a person with self-diagnosed obsessive-compulsive disorder, once I ran out of confectioner's sugar for the frosting I decided to start ad-libbing all sorts of recipe ingredients and amounts because in my heart I knew that Perfection, that fickle monster, had escaped my grasp. I used regular sugar instead, giving the frosting a texture that sand dunes would consider too grainy.

Things went from bad to worse when the finished cakes wouldn't come out of the pans. I let them cool for an hour, and then I stuck them in the freezer in hopes of loosening them that way (first hardening them, then scooping the damn things out). This only served to freeze the non-stick cooking spray, meaning that the cake would never come out in one piece. So I scooped out what cake I could, hoping to cover up my mistakes with the sweet-tooth's makeup, frosting.

The result was lop-sided and badly frosted with bad frosting. I could take a picture of my cake, but I think I would lose everyone's respect.

I was so embarrassed with my effort (I know I don't have to earn my family's love, but it helps when they aren't ashamed of you) that I tried to cover up the uneven frosting with shavings of Valrhona chocolate. But I was cheap and wanted the Valrhona all to myself, so I only covered the top and gave up.

Then I placed my cake underneath a stainless steel cover and sat on the couch, afraid of my creation. I think I know how Frankenstein felt.

-->Ravi