Best Vietnamese Restaurant in L.A. is Now Plural

I just got this notice in my inbox, and since I'm running off to class to hand in a final project (on the oh-so-scintillating topic of "Departmental Analysis, Demographic & Psychographic Profile, Sales Plan, Assortment and Purchasing Plan for Lauren Jeans Co. in Macy's at the Westside Pavilion"), I don't have time to rephrase--but I'm so excited about this news I'll just post it up verbatim. Viet Soy Cafe is one of the best places to eat, period, and this new one is the perfect excuse to go, er, taste-test. I.e., eat everything on the menu.

"Sometimes it feels like you have to travel to the Far East to get a good bowl of bun chay.

Or at least trek to Atwater. That’s where the new Viet Noodle Bar is now open for lunch and dinner.

An offshoot of Viet Soy Cafe in Silver Lake, the decor is simple: white walls, two long, communal tables, and books piled high along a shelf that runs the length of the room.

The menu’s simple, too. Beverages like homemade soy milk and cleansing tonics C-shot (sugarcane, lemon, cayenne) and pennywort and apple juice have been carried over, while new Central and Northern flavors are introduced with dishes like banh nam (thin rice flour pancake with shrimp steamed in a banana leaf) and rice noodle bowls like bun ca thi la (turmeric white fish). Pho debuts next month.

That should give you enough time to find a map."

Viet Noodle Bar, 3133 Glendale Boulevard, between Glenfeliz Boulevard and Edenhurst Avenue, Atwater Village (323-906-1575).

[Psst--the brown rice with lotus seed is INSANELY good. > r r < ]

Ain't No Celery at the 5%C Thanksgiving Table

So, inspired by fabulous blogs like LAist, I'm making a list of things I'm thankful for at this very moment. I don't know why anyone cares about this type of thing, since what I'm thankful for very likely has nothing to do with you, but everyone else is doing it (even Perez, in his way), so it must be cool (right?). I will even try to make it relevant to 5%C by including fabulous foods and fashions. Not difficult. OKAY.

RR is all like "THANKS" about some stuff including these things:

• Schizophrenic fall weather that lets you wear little skirts or big sweaters
• The advent of holiday baking season!
• Clifton's Cafeteria in downtown L.A. with all the old people and the weird forest dioramas
• Beautiful old postcards
• LOLcats
• These Prada shoes
• My new job
• Our cat learning to use his scratching post
• Mezzanine Owls' upcoming record
• Project Runway
• Persimmons
• Gloves with fur trim
• Animals with fur trim
• Babies dressed like animals
• Not having any babies
• Wooly tights (Hue and DKNY make great ones for stingy girls like me)
• Establishments that let me stay stingy: The 99 Cents Only store, taco stands, Thank You Mart
• All the new movies I actually want to see
• The fabulous Louise Brooks
• The fact that I didn't succumb to the iPhone craze, since now there's a Google phone in development
• And...I am thankful for today's being notably full of food, as I am currently starrrrving.

On that note, I'm audi (oh, & of course I am thankful, as always, for Clueless).

> r r <

Party Like It's The Frozen North

In an effort to beat the shocking, life-sucking heat wave in Los Angeles this weekend, we decided to throw a bash honoring that part of the world where it's generally very cold: Scandinavia! I'm Swedish, my friend is Norwegian, our third posse member had just been in Stockholm--et voila, a bash is born. (Also, as you may gather from my post on Swedish chic, I am utterly convinced that Sweden is the best country in the universe--and therefore also an extremely good theme for a party.) It was last-minute, on the cheap, ridiculous...a.k.a. totally great. Since the event was definitely food- and fashion-related, here's the report:

MENU: In order to be thoroughly authentic, we obviously had to forgo the grocery store and instead do a major IKEA run. We scored Swedish meatballs, lingonberry preserves (for the meatballs, of course, since all right-minded people put fruit on their ground meat), Knackebrod (dark Scando crispbreads; apparently, the hole in the middle is traditionally made with a broom handle) with Danish cheeses and sliced cucumber, canapés with peppery cream cheese & smoked salmon & caviar (swank, no?), and Swedish gingersnaps. We decided against pickled herring for obvious reasons (and also because it's just nasty). Oh yes, and let's not forget little bowls of Swedish fish (duh!) and chocolate Dalahasten (Swedish horses) (see below).

We did not serve bowls of real Swedish horses, however.

"The qualities that the North Swedish Horse possesses are energy, durability, stamina, and respectable longevity."

Ah, good old respectable longevity...which reminds me, in order to help test our guests' durability, stamina, etc., we of course had to have a big old bottle of Sweden's own Absolut (the grapefruit kind--my fave. Hey, my party!). Tasted fab with the random Scandinavian berry juice we had plus a little seltzer. Or, you know, straight from the bottle.

FASHIONHAGGEN: On the fashion front, I managed to assemble an entirely Nordic getup (thanks, H&M and my blue-and-yellow Converses). I would've worn my Cheap Monday jeans to mix up the labels a bit, but the 100-degree weather persuaded me otherwise. Others obliged with chich that would put bike-riding Norwegians to shame. We all tried to channel thoughts of Scando snow as we ate our salty, fishy foods and listened to a playlist of exclusively Nordic bands (their ratio of good bands is so unfairly high. Even their white rappers are better than ours.).

For more reasons Sweden rules, go here. For my patented family recipe for Swedish meatballs, go here. THAT'S RIGHT, NO LINK, SUCKAS! You'll never get that secret out of me.

The real question now is: where's that last little bit of Havarti? It might go well with a little Robyn on the stereo.

> r r <

Everyone is Doing It

Happy Monday!

Wanna know why I'm so happy? I can't even begin to tell you...it couldn't be because I watched a three hour cheezoid movie about Charles Manson and then walked home at midnight by myself.

Nor could it be because I was a sex sandwich (and not in a good way) last night--as both people that live on either side of me were having loud, passionate sex whilst I sat and watched Law and Order reruns with my pooch.

It might be because I need focus to do a good job with work, and these days finding inspiration and conversation about food is easy to do.

Doesn't it seem like everyone cooks these days? I remember the old days when I was a sophisticate with my knowlege of haricot vert and squid ink pasta. Now I am a dime a dozen. Never fear, I rejoice in this new found love for good food--it can only mean fabulous things for me and my belly.

The book that will tell the tale: The United States of Arugula

This website proves that it is hard to get visits without a few recipes: HEYA HIFI

The master at writing about it: Michael Ruhlman

Someone who makes art with it: Aya Brackett

Someone who cooks it: .:tt:. (hey...how'd that get in there??)

These ladies LOVE food: Food Porn (not for the faint of heart or the under-aged, this is REAL PORN. Seriously. Don't look if you don't like porn. I HAD to look. Research. I swear. Research.)

So sit back nation, it's time empty your bowls of plastic and polyester food--there's a revolution going on.

.:tt:.

Tasca, A Review

I put the best thing I've ever had in my mouth last night...and it WAS in fact food (I always knew it would be).

Of course that lead in has you gripping the edge of your seat (especially if you are my father) but alas, like a good journalist, I will make you wait for the payoff--as I in fact did.

A few months ago this very cute, albeit way too-cool-guy gave me his card saying that he is a chef at Tasca, a tapas bar. His name is Nano Crespo, and once I got passed the name (and the sunglass wearing inside the building) I put the card in my wallet and thought I would visit when I had some time.

What with all of the restaurant openings in Los Angeles, I've gone broke and gained 13 pounds--so Tasca was down far on the list. (Coincidentally, I met Tiffany from Top Chef and she said she was heading over to Craft for dinner last night). But my friend CH invited me to dinner, and I never turn down a free glass of wine.

We sat in the very tiny space (it's soooo Spain that way) and met the owner right off of the bat. She's young, yields a light accent from somewhere outside of Los Angeles and is very nice; in fact the whole staff is very nice.

We started with the Brandade, which is salt cod, reconstituted and mixed with a thickener (in this case mashed potatoes) and made into a dip. It was fair. My dining partner was immediately turned off as it looked like "hairy mashed potatoes" and tasted like "kitty food". It is authentic, it's true.

The owner sent an amuse of truffle potato chips that were very good; highly scented with truffle but lightly flavored. That is the wondrous thing about truffles, they speak more to your nose than your palate; it is confusing enough to the brain that you only think you are tasting what you are smelling, but if you taste very carefully you will see the flavor has little to do with the smell.

Next we had the potatoes stewed with chorizo, another classic Spanish dish. Chorizo is one of my favorite meats of all time, and this chorizo was no exception. The menu claimed to braise the meat and potatoes in Sherry, but I didn't taste any here. What I did taste were exploding flavors of very fresh, piquant paprika and smolderingly earthy, cumin. The flavors were phenomenal. These are two flavors that die in our kitchen cabinets in the United States, as our paprika is weak and our cumin stale. Preserved in the chorizo it held its flavor from table to mouth. What I didn't taste were the potatoes as they were so starchy they didn't want to stay on the fork. I would suggest using small yellow potatoes with the skins on or making crispy potatoes out of the russets they are using in the dish.

But alas we are to the finale and what a finale it was. I'm no sucker for things like, "vanilla scented" or "red wine and demi glace braised"; in fact I'm jaded from all of the bad "vanilla scented" sauces I've experienced outside of a pastry or dessert. THIS is the "vanilla scented" to kick all of the other "vanilla scented" sauces out of the water.

I'll leave it up to the waiter to explain; "Red wine and Demi Glace Braised Short Ribs with Butternut Squash Ravioli and Vanilla Scented Cream Sauce." I almost didn't order it because it is THE MIDDLE OF SUMMER. But my dining partner had stopped by earlier in the evening and smelled the short ribs a braisin'; so she asked to have them included in our tasting.

I’m glad she did otherwise I would have left the restaurant less than enthusiastic. I probably would have written this review like Frank Bruni wrote about Harold’s restaurant last week..."eh, ‘tis okay." But now I can boast that the most perfect dish I've eaten was consumed at a little unassuming wine bar that only recently got its license.

The first bite is always the best, and I'm glad to have savored it like a chocolate truffle. I cut a ravioli in half, scooped some short rib on top and laid it on my tongue. It melted right then and there and I went with it. Forget about the sunglasses inside, this guy is my new crush! It's like he knew that I, personally had been offended by so many "vanilla scented" sauces that he sat out to make one that I would approve of. And approve I do.

I think I'm in love...with the meal of course.

.:tt:.

Foodie Fashion: Lessons from Top Chef

Remember last season of "Top Chef," where Padma Lakshmi's stunning good looks were often overshadowed by her blindingly tacky and inappropriate outfits? From Victoria's Secret clearance-bin satin camisoles to booty shorts and undershirts, Padma had it (un)covered. Christ, it was bad. I wondered if being a fashion model had rendered her incapable of choosing clothes when left to her own devices, or if she was the victim of a particularly vengeful Bravo wardrobe mistress.

Padma's only foolproof outfit?

Whatever the answer, the problem has been very nicely remedied this season (thank god--I couldn't enjoy the cooking and drama as much when Padma's ensemble was making me shield my eyes and whimper). Either Padma or the wardrobe lady has stopped drinking to excess, and has instead come out this season with some flattering, fashionable and even subtle (!) getups for ole P-Lak. Nore more shiny ruffled cleaveage-baring rags! No more workoutwear! Instead, neat little tailored tops and pencil skirts...lovely dresses...and even a hip little pair of skinny taupe jeans with buttons at the ankle, worn with a loose white tank and navy men's vest. This may be my favorite (it's also bascially what I wear every other day, though surely plus a few hundred dollars retail value). Huzzah! My "Top Chef" viewing companions can now watch in peace, instead of listening to my shrieking about clothing the whole time.

Well...I still shriek a little. Have you SEEN what those contestants wear under their chef's whites?!? Casey (the Jennifer Aniston lookalike) generally looks like an American Eagle Outfitters ad, which, compared to her colleagues, practically makes her Kate Moss. Last episode Lia, I believe, was called in because of her poor-quality dish--and no one mentioned the unspeakable quality of the sarong/pants/tie-dyed monstrosity she was passing off as pants below her white jacket. The appetite this show generates in me was GONE as soon as I saw those...things. EW. And let's not forget the questionable tee shirts worn by many a male chef on past and present seasons. The worst offender may have been Sam, who had that horrible shirt that he wore like evvvvvery day that said something really lame on it...okay, I don't remember, but it was really bad and he thought it was badass. I could go on and on, but the point is that chefs do not seem to get enough hours outside of the kitchen to see what real people actually wear. Hint: NOT SARONG PANTS.

So we now have as this a given: The only chef types who can dress genuinely stylishly that I know of are Padma (now) and the lovely .:tt:., who causes much envy on my part with her flawless collection of Blahnik, Balenciaga, Marc Jacobs, et. al. Based on that data, our deep and meaninful conclusion for today is: Chefs can't dress, unless they started their careers as international fashion models. Can't, uh, bake your cake and wear it too.

> r r <

Algabar, A Tasting

There is a new tea house in town, Algabar Home and Life. It is one of the most beautiful places you will step your two little pieds. It is co-owned by my friend Gail Baral and her business partner Robb Wain, and is truly a classy place.

Gail knows her tea after having traveled to China and Japan on many occasions, she makes the best cup of tea I've ever had. If you stop by the shop, she will ask you a few questions and brew a special cup just for you while you browse. If you have tea questions (does it have caffiene, brewing temperatures, or even recipes for tea cocktails) she will be happy to oblige.

I attended the first tasting that was held at her store jointly with (alas!) my favorite preserver/chocolate canner/syrup making purveyor, Robert Lambert. The food was exquisite, composed by chef Crispin Kitto and menu designed by Kim. The event was just lovely, and everyone involved is quite talented.

I have been working with an importer to develop recipes with her products and the product that I have included in almost every recipe is, of course, Roberts. Today I offer my favorite recipe thus far.

Brioche French Toast with Blood Orange Glazed Foie Gras

1 whole Cardamom Pod
1 Egg
2 T Cream
2-3 Slices of day old Brioche, 1" thick
10 oz Foie Gras, sliced into scaloppini’s (1/4" slices)
Robert Lambert Blood Orange Syrup
Mascarpone, whipped (optional)
Raspberries,
glazed with a little bit of the Blood Orange Syrup
Butter for frying

- Beat the egg with the cream and then grate 1/4 tsp of the cardamom
into the mixture. Pour in 1 T of Robert Lambert Syrup and set aside.

-
In a hot sauté pan, melt some butter and caramelize each piece of foie gras on
both sides.

- While the foie gras is caramelizing, heat another
sauté pan to medium high heat. Once it is hot, place some butter in the pan and
dredge the brioche through the egg mixture. Cook the pieces of bread on medium
high heat until caramelized on both sides.

- While the brioche is cooking, pour in Robert Lambert's Blood Orange syrup (enough to cover one side of all of the pieces of foie gras) and glaze the scaloppini’s for 30 seconds.

- Plate the french toast and place the foie gras pieces on top. Dust
with a little powdered sugar and serve with a dollop of whipped mascarpone
and raspberries tossed with a little of the syrup.

This is not low fat. In fact if you have heart issues, this is the dish that will stop the blood flow. This is the dish to eat before you fast. I would like to think Gandhi ate a plate of this stuff before he stopped eating. I would like to think it but am sure he didn't as Gandhi would never eat foie gras.

This is the meal I would request at my hanging.

If I could only eat once a month, this is the dish I would eat.

If I had to come back as a meal, this is the meal I would come back as.

Please eat responsibly (like perhaps with a glass of champagne).

.:tt:.

Cannifaux.

Oh those Asians. They slay me...

click the picture for the story.

.:tt:.

Apple

I just started a food writing thing. (note to self, "thing" is not a descriptor).




So I'm posting my first...um...thing.

About an Apple

An apple crisp in my mouth is as satisfying as any steak. My teeth bite through the flesh and the fruit gives way to juice and meal. Held in my hand, I eat hurriedly and worry I might bite a thumb or finger as I work my way around the sphere.

I prefer apples brought to room temperature, neither hot nor cold as to not scour my teeth—I like to keep myself out of it when I’m eating. A good piece of fruit, a vegetable rich in flavor, or a piece of meat cooked to perfection will transport this diner beyond her physical self. This can cause problems as she would like to stay there—but alas her belly fills to the brim and her body cries to come back.

I come back and find one more bite left; I'll make it fit. The last bite is not as good as the first, for I’ve already satiated my urges, but the juice of the last bite drips down my chin and catches the eye of my dining partner. He steps forward to help and whisks me up in a deep, fruity kiss, satisfying both of my appetites.

.:tt:.

Cooking Is Easy

Even a Monkey can do it.

.:tt:.

EEW Number Two

Celery STRAWS!

Soon, they are going to start engineering celery forks, celery plates, and celery couches!

How are we going to keep up our promise of 5% Celery >rr<, how?

.:tt:.

Mrs. Jagger in London

WELL!

No sooner do I read in InStyle about how white wedding suits a la Bianca Jagger's are again in vogue (she wore the iconic one, a supremely low-cut jacket and trousers, with a fabulous white hat) do I receive an invitation to join her for dinner. No matter why--let's just say that while she may once have been known for this:

and for looking like this:

and for causing people to say things like "Remember the night Bianca Jagger rode into Studio 54 on a white horse?"...

she's now quite the international human rights activist and political figure. I tried to talk fashion with her for a moment, and she quickly steered the conversation back to Nicaraguan government. As she should--that's clearly the more pressing topic, and I'm really in awe of the woman now for refusing to sit back on her popstar laurels and instead really making a second career about something other than herself.

Also, I'd be amiss in leaving out the restaurant. Even trusty Toscana, Italian landmark of Brentwood, doesn't turn out delicacies like the shoestring zucchini fries we started with at this place (Sandalini or something--I'll have to fact-check that one), the cheese-filled zucchini blossoms, handmade pasta, and the startling fruits scooped out and filled with gorgeous sorbets at the end. They say the Brits aren't really foodies, but the past few days here have proven more than otherwise.

In the immortal words of middle-schoolers, TTFN...I've got to pack for Paris.

> r r <

Sure...

(click on the picture for the article)

.:tt:.

Sous Vide, a Primer

My mom had this idea a long time ago. She saw this machine on the Home Shopping Network (we were in a hotel and there was NOTHING else on) and she ordered it. It was this narrow machine that reminded me of a white Knight 2000 grill (I had to Wilkipedia that; apparently the onboard computer was named Kitt--NOT the car). It was not much bigger than a three-hole punch. She had this brilliant idea to put chicken in the pouch with seasonings (I recommend parsley, garlic, lemon, thyme and rosemary) and then would freeze it and boil it when she was ready to eat. To me it sounded gross. I come from the school of "color equals flavor" (so to speak), so a boiled chicken breast is about as unappealing as eating dough after its second rise.

Then she read something about plastics putting off carcinogens when heated to a certain level--that was then end of sous vide in my house. The debate is still on, but that hasn't stopped the trend from reaching our restaurants. Sous vide literally means "under vacuum". The method used by chefs is much more refined than my mother’s sous vide pot roast; cook the flesh at a low enough temperature that the texture is not compromised. In fact it is a texture that we can't get with our traditional methods of baking, poaching, or sautéing.

In culinary school we are taught to cook thin slices of meat (and high protein meats) at high temperatures. This ensures the meat will be cooked evenly and will retain its juices. In sous vide cooking there is no where for the juices to go but back into the meat--so the result is a finer texture and a juicier piece of chicken.



But the machines cost 5 grand and the New York Health Department has nixed the process by explaining that there are rules about chicken reaching the designated 165 degrees (the temperature at which salmonella can no longer live).

Don't get me started in on the salmonella debate--it's the FDA's lack of regulation that our food supply is so diseased in the first place (google the term "fecal soup" and have fun).

As with any fad or trend I roll my eyes, but the possibility of eating rhubarb that looks raw but is neither stringy nor crunchy has my curiosity peaked. Imagine what salmon that has been cooked for an hour at 100 degrees will feel like in your mouth! Imagine the flavor--a chef's job would be to baby-sit the meat (insert your own joke here).

.:tt:.

Pretention of the Day

Okay, so I certainly understand that there are faux pas in the kitchen (i.e. using pre-peeled garlic, cooking with iodized salt, or overcooking the tuna) but this is ridiculous:

http://lifeandhealth.guardian.co.uk/food/story/0,,2075380,00.html

I dare you to go into your favorite neighborhood restaurant and ask for their leftover lobster shells. Write me and tell me how that goes down.

.:tt:.

Izakaya, A Review

Sushi.

Fabulous lunch menu.

SOOOOO GOOOD.

GO THERE.

DO IT.

.:tt:.

1OO!

One hundredth post, and it was done in conjunction with my favorite city. And my favorite glass of wine. And my favorite new drink. And in my favorite underwear.

I'm so sorry I've been gone. I have missed you 5%Celery. I have.

I do bring gifts with me though.

First a prediction: The "new" hot (as in faddish) thing will be yellow bell pepper sauce/soup. I'm just saying...my ESP is telling me. Quote me on that. Write it in your calendar. I've said it. I stand by it. Wait and see...

Second: I've found the best Bloody Mary ever--and it has about 5% Celery content. It is at a great little (and by little I mean to say there are FOUR, count them FOUR in Manhattan) place called Sarabeth's in the Upper West Side (and in three other locations around the city). Anyway, it is absolutely the place to go for three things:

1) Bloody Mary's with 5% Celery
2) Preserves with NO celery!
3) Pumpkin muffins...I'm not gonna make a joke about these. They are really good.

This is a teaser. I have intention to "talk" your ears off about my journeys as of late.

Thanks for listening, and remember you heard it here first; yellow bell pepper sauce--the wave of the future.

.:tt:.

Pinkberry: The Scoop

I know, that was a hideous pun of a heading, but you'll have to deal since it leads you to THE REAL TRUTH ABT: PINKBERRY YOGHURT <--(much more fun spelling than the American way). I hereby allow you access to nutrition info and secret tips! Ooh-wee!

[Intro: Everyone in L.A. knows that Pinkberry's spreading like herpes around these parts, and though I'm usually not a huge fro-yo fan--if you want ice cream, for god's sake eat ice cream--a reputable source told me it was "my kind of thing." So the other day I was heading back from the accountant's office for the store where I work, which entails a harrowing drive all the way down Highland from Burbank, and when I finally hit Melrose I spied a Pinkberry. I was starving from my strenuous drive, so I pulled a quick U (my signature move) and got in the queue. How impressive is it that I know how to spell "queue," by the way? I totally got it right the first time. Damn. OK SO SO SO I got my yoghurt; 'twas a plain flavor with blueberries; I adored it; 'twas v. sour and delectable and fantastic; yes, a small size is more than enough; yes, fruit is fresh and marvy, etc.]

REAL DEAL info (OOH-WEE):

-->Nutrition Facts--> While there is much myth and legend surrounding Pinkberry's health benefits and calorie count*, the plain facts are:

-The yoghurt has 25 calories per ounce.

-A small serving is 5 oz; a medium is 8 oz. For those who failed fifth-grade math, a small has 125 calories and a medium has 200 cal. Obviously, add on whatever berries/cereal/junk you put on top.

*Take, for example, the theme song that plays on the PB website: "..I don't feel like I'm cheatin'/ when I'm eatin' it...it's like a dream/Take that, ice cream...." Whatevs, you ARE cheating when you're eating it...cheating on your true love, ice cream.

--> Speaking Of Toppings!--> According to denizens of P-Ber (like Restaurant Girl, who details her fave combinations), in addition to the normal toppings, you can get MOCHI on your yoghurt! She even goes all hedonist and orders extra mochi without even using yoghurt as an excuse for them! What lines we can cross here! What boxes outside of which we may live!

--> L.A. Locales--> Koreatown, Larchmont, Bev Hills somewheres, Los Feliz, Melrose, Studio City, WeHo, West Olympic, & Westwood. Otherwise, you kin git yer fix at 3 shops in New Yawk Sittee. Speaking of sittees, remember that Harvey Danger song, "Flagpole Sitta?" Anyone know what in tarnation a sitta is? Gangsta talk for "sitter?" Why would you need a sitter for a flagpole? They're so well-behaved.

HAHAHA FROGHURT! I want to be in a froghurt frenzy.

> r r <

Holy Crap

BUTTER CUTTER!

LOVE IT.

(the all caps just goes to show.)

.:tt:.

Best of Both Worlds

For those of us who aren't high-falutin' culinarians or whatever they're called, we can admit to liking total junk food. But some of us like to think we're above that, so when we discover junk food in fancy-food form, we rejoice. Especially when that fancy-food-form manages to combine chocolate and pizza.

> r r <