WOOO! (RR's San Sebastián Report, Pt. 1)

Hello kiddies!

Apologies for the long absence: tt has been increasing her stardom in the world of chef-ery and I (rr) have been kicking up my heels all the way to San Sebastián (capital of the Basque country, Spain--yes, the one with all the terrorists). WiFi is still a new concept here, and internet cafés are just so bleh, so hence the delays in reportage. Anyway, a quick 'n' dirty listing of my discoveries here might entail a list such as this following one.

San Sebastián--a summary: Adorable resort town with horrendous exchange rate and more bars per square meter than any other city in the world. Keep in mind, though, that these are tapas bars (pintxos bars, if you're cool & speaking Basque) that feature lots of loud, stout, happy old people. Beautiful beaches, unfortunate tendency to drizzle. Fabulous place to eat and shop (basically all you can do in the afternoon, when everything else closes for siesta).

What's IN:

• Mullets, especially on girls
• Skinny jeans, still
• Giant awkward jeans, unfortunatelyBright burgundy hair, on old ladies only
• Industrial-strength umbrellas (thanks to the crazy rainstorms here, everyone's got one)
• Fried potatoes of any sort
• Mayonnaise
• Mayonaisse ON fried potatoes.
• Optical shops (seriously, on every block is another "General Óptica")
• Cod (SanSeb. is basically the Spanish equivalent of Cape Cod, fishing-wise)
• Phone charms with mini Chupa-Chups racing helmets on them
• Zara (their navy paper bags are as ubiquitous here as Trader Joe's bags in Silverlake)
• Middle-aged women unsuspectingly wearing shirts with vulgar English sayings
• White asparagus (a must on top of any salad*)
• Fabulous flats that make me especially regret the heinous valuelessness of the dollar

What's OUT:

• Earth tones
  Vegetables (*"salad" =pasta, peas and canned olives held together by copious mayo)
  Pooper-scoopers
  Vegetarianism
  Flip-flops (hello, rain & slick tiles along the waterfront don't mix)
  The Atkins concept (everything here comes with bread on the side)
  Yet nor can one find decent bread (it looks like french bread...but is SO not)
  America (pretending you're Canadian is always helpful, to avoid the accusatory exclamations of "BUSH!")Comfortable shoes, even for old ladies
  Spending too long on the internets when one could be downing more tapas with various irresistible combos of goat cheese, foie, olives, etc...)

Speaking of which, off I go, then--

> r r <

Note: My gleeful tone and sloppy list-making has nothing to do with the abundance of sidra, the local fermented apple drink. NOTHING whatsopoever. Yeah, I said it, WHATSOPEVER.

Lark Cake Shop, A Review

Occasionally we like to have another voice of reason. This voice of reason comes from John Southern, an architect and an avid eater (that's what I said, AVID). Please sit back, relax, it's not my voice you will be hearing your head all day...

.:tt:.

“Let them eat cake”-- According to Wikipeda, it ain’t Marie Antoinette.


Living in what I refer to as the “Silver Lake Lowlands”, any new culinary opportunity is observed with the same type of anxious optimism usually held by peoples under siege. It’s not that we don’t have options down here, it’s just most of them tend to be on the low end of the culinary totem pole. I mean, how many papusas or pho bowls can one eat before the taste buds tire and shrivel from too much salt and MSG? We also don’t have much in the way of dessert options either, which is why the addition of Lark Cake Shop on Sunset Blvd. is such a welcome treat.

Lark, owned by Colleen Standish, has established itself in a commercial strip just south of Micheltorena St. normally associated with auto-body shops and Latin American storefront churches. After eyeing their sign during construction, I found that they’d opened while I was away in Berlin. An attack of the late afternoon munchies forced me and my date to drop in one hot and steamy Wednesday afternoon.

Enough chit-chat already! On to them’ baked goodz!

Lark specializes in cupcakes, frosted cookies, and fancy cakes, all of which earn a prize in aesthetics and sugary-sweet goodness. The staff is super nice and is quick to offer up samples from the on-site bakery, which is cleverly on view through a large glass window. What gets though me are the prices. Cupcakes are currently pegged at $1.90 (tax incld.) which for the quality and size is remarkably fair. In a neighborhood that is quickly gentrifying (which means we’re going from cheap to posh in the blink of an eye) this is a welcome addition that will no doubt pull in hipster and long-time residents alike.

My date, Emily, and I each ordered a cupcake to sample the standard fare of the house. I chose the coconut-nut vanilla frosted cupcake, while she picked a delich’ chocolate-frosted dream that was surprisingly light on the taste-buds, despite its rich appearance. The coconut was crisp and the icing cool, sugary, and fresh- sweet relief on a hot summer day. I ordered an espresso to compliment my snack and it came out frothy and smooth, rather than the usual bitter and oily combo that one finds at Backdoor Bakery and Casbah. Emily, an avid baker herself, is a tough critic when it comes to baked goods, and she agreed that Lark beats the pants off other bakeries in the area, due to its homegrown taste, and reasonable prices. I couldn’t be happier with the place since it now means another “sweet” destination in a neighborhood that needs more.
The bonus is that Lark is open late- 7pm weekdays and 10pm on the weekends. This means that whether you’re on your way home from a tough day at the office, or out for a walk after dinner, Lark is going to be a constant temptation, that’s heavy on the taste buds, but light on the wallet.

Oh! I also forgot to mention that it’s next to Stark- a waxing spa, so the ladies (or the frictionless inclined gentleman) can pamper themselves with fuzzy coconut cupcakes after their “Brazilian” and lament what was lost.

Eat and Enjoy!

Lark Cake Shop
3337 West Sunset Blvd. Los Angeles, CA 90026. (t.323.667.2968)

Keffi-huh?

I've been getting requests for a more in-depth lecture on the "fringe-y Arabic-y scarf things" I mentioned as being so popular with the youngsters in London and New York. Turns out they're called "keffiyehs" and are "generally white, square, cotton cloths that are wrapped around the head in various styles, but many have a checkered pattern in red or black stitched into them. The black and white checkered style became especially well-known during the 1930’s as a symbol of Palestinian nationalism, and continues to be associated with Palestinian political sympathies." Observe:

Let it be stated here and now that I predict the imminent arrival and subsequent overuse of the keffiyeh in the L.A. scene (not that I'd mind; I think they look kind of neat). Hey, if Colin Farrell's doing it, LiLo can't be far behind....

I would go into the cultural and social implications and questions raised by the use of a religious garment as a fad, but this post on the (CRIT) design blog does it for me. Personally, I don't find it offensive to use something that's traditionally religious, if it's not used offensively. I.e., if wearing the keffiyeh is saying only "these scarves are like so rad" or even "I support Palestine," in no way is that negative. So my own personal panties are by no means in a twist over this one. But remember how my store decided it was too controversial to sell them? Apparently, Urban Outfitters ran into the same problem. Interesting.

> r r <

Cannifaux.

Oh those Asians. They slay me...

click the picture for the story.

.:tt:.

The RR Report: London & Paris

Oh gosh, gee whiz, after plowing through my buildup of e-mails from my past 10 days in Europe, I'm afraid of how coherent I'll be (or not) here...but still, the show must go on, non?

LONDON: STYLE
I was expecting to go to London and be bowled over by everyone's sheer coolness (see: Ms K. Moss). I even *almost* went as far as to purchase a way avant-garde strapless silk jumpsuit for the trip, just as an attempt to compete on UK sidewalks (sadly, despite the jumpsuit's being the last of its kind in the store where I worked and my never having requested a big discount before, my boss refused to give me any extra % off and I couldn't afford the thing. I was so annoyed; it had been too long for Monica Keena but looked most excellent on me since I have a good six inches on ole Monica). BUT! BUT! It turned out that it was money well un-spent: while your average hip kid on the street did look much more put-together and sharp than your average American shlub, I found soon that their getups were awfully cookie-cutter. Skinny jeans--REALLY skinny--, big hi-tops, raggy tops...eh, too unremarkable to remember more details. The less sharp ladies were often decked out in painfully bright colors (my boyfriend remarked on the incredible frequency of hot pink), the ever-horrifying tracksuits, Hot-Topic-esque accessories and loads of makeup. The guys fared a bit better--the cool ones in their slim jeans and scarves are pretty decent--but the chavs are just as unfortunate as their big-shorts-&-caps-wearing allies over here. Then there were your most forgettable folk, those many passersby who seemed to have zero understanding of their own body shapes and what might be flattering. Or NOT. God, so many too-tight tops and ugly capri pants. Ughhhh. Oh right, before I forget, the one big trend I noticed was those raggedy fringed Arabic-y neck scarves. EVERYone and his kid sister wore them. My boss came back a few months ago reporting that all the overseas hipsters were rocking the scarves, which apparently have by now hit New York. They have yet to really make waves in L.A., save for a few visionaries, but I do know they were pulled from my store for fear of being "too controversial."

PARIS: STYLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
What can I say? Every time I'm in France, I'm basically entranced every time I walk down the street. It seems as though everyone, from teensy kids in leather sandals to very old ladies, is gorgeous. It's not that everyone is literally shockingly physically attractive--though they're certainly far above average as a nation, lucky willow-framed jerks--but more that they all seem to naturally embody an easy, effortless grace and, well, chic. Seeing these flocks of girls in their slim-but-not-skinny jeans, sheer wrinkled tops, soft blazers, ballet flats (very few heels in sight), and Charlotte-Gainsbourg-like long flyaway hair made the carefully constructed, colored and laquered hipsters of London seem instantly paint-by-numbers. And the boys were all perfect in their slim slouchy trousers, tennis shoes, cardigans and jackets. But not in an artful way--no, just as if they were born knowing that corduroys go with twill and jeans go with cardigans, and shorts aren't even acceptable topics for consideration. Oh, and the old people! The most stylish, adorable old men and ladies. When they carry baguettes wrapped in paper, I can hardly stand it. Anyway, after all this, I couldn't help but pick up a wonderful Marni top (Italian designers are cheaper in Europe, plus it was sale season!) before I left.

I took this photo set in the Musee d'Orsay, to epitomize the difference between your average French girl, not trying to look cool, and your average British tourist girl, not (I hope) trying to look cool:



Myabe I should've just put those two pictures and left out the whole gabby description. You can see what I'm saying here.

So yes--while London is lovely, and I ate some terrific meals and saw some fantastic theatre (Gorky's "Philistines" was especially memorable), Paris is paradise, where everyone is beautiful without Vuitton or facepaint, and all the coffee is good, and the phone books have listings like these:



> r r <

YUMMO

This is something I could wrap my mind around.




official press release here.

Geddit? In Japan only.

.:tt:.

The Little Door Next Door, A Review

My what a beautiful little place that sits there on 3rd street next to Doughboys. My dining companion and I were annoyed that we couldn't find parking close, so we nearly passed up this opportunity to go for a quick visit. But alas, I claimed New York legs, so I was happy to walk a few blocks (besides Satine was on the way and I have some credit on file). We arrived at Little Door and Little Door Next Door and stepped through the doorway into another world. I'm a fan of fantasy dining, anything that makes me feel like I've taken a little vacation outside of my big, dirty city is alright by me.

The Little Door is a full scale restaurant, while the Little Door Next Door is a more casual version of itself. Sort of like Friday Jeans versus Business Attire. Or lunch versus dinner.

The first person I ran into was Suzanne Goin. She looks amazing (she recently had twins). She asked me what I was going to order and I admitted that I was visiting for the first time. She also had not been before.

Unfortunately I had consumed some yogurt (really good yogurt) and chicken salad three hours before, so I wasn't up for much more than Prosecco.

My dining companion had the smoked salmon sandwich and a glass of iced coffee. We were thrilled with the service and the people watching. It is clear that people come to sit for hours while enjoying the French/Mediterannean influenced menu.

It is not an inexpensive place to dine, but it is very good food. The sandwich was full of flavor and the side salad, though quite boring looking, was outstanding.

I'll go back for a more full review. In the meantime, you will not be wasting anything to try it yourself.

.:tt:.

A Very Good Article

Here.

August, A Review

I'm on a roll. I haven't been to a bad restaurant in awhile (except Cafeteria in NYC--but that was quickly canceled out by the next stop--Rosa Mexicana--more on that later).

This restaurant was recommended by my friend Chris who was a chef in the city. Okay, I must clarify. I use the word "friend" with people I like, sometimes I jump the gun. He is a friend of a friend. But that's a mouthfull. Anyway, this post isn't about me (they all are) it's about the food (that I ate).

On my last day in NYC I visited my favorite part, the West Village. I don't know why it took me until then, but I was busy hanging out on 5th Ave (read: shopping). I came to find the restaurant, August and grab a bite to eat before the driver took me away from NYC kicking and screaming.

I found it. It was closed until noon--but I was STARVING. So I went to another restaurant, St. Ambroeus. I walked in and asked for a table for one. The server headed off to fetch me a table (the restaurant was half full) and NEVER CAME BACK. So I sent someone else off. THEY NEVER CAME BACK. So I left. When I got back to August they were open.

I did the LA thing and sat at a table in the middle and talked on my phone for the first ten minutes. But they didn't bat an eye. The very nice server brought me a fabulous glass of wine and I ordered the hamburger.

Soon an older couple, I would learn they were from Texas, walked in and sat near me. Not sitting near someone in this tiny restaurant is difficult--it is small and romantic. We all chatted about food and suddenly another diner came in--to fill the place. A very pretty little baby looked up at me with huge eyes, and I followed her gaze up to the pusher of the buggy and it was my friend's family! New York is small this way. I ran into people all over the place. I love that about the city.

My food came, and I dug in. I was sure my request for "medium rare" would become something closer to "meduim well"...but it was perfectly cooked! Maybe that seems simple to you--but too often focus is on flavor and not how well the product is cooked. This had both. I know it was a simple burger--but the best burger I've had. If I were to open a restaurant it would be like this tiny little place; filled with warmth and chatter and everyone feels at home.

.: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:.

Delilah's Bakery

New Bakery Alert!

I was minding my own business the other day, when someone suggested I take lunch at a new bakery down the street from my friend Nina’s shop. I took a walk with Jasmine and we were delighted to find Delilah’s Bakery. It is a gem in hipster haven, Echo Park. The food is yummy, the desserts fabulous and the atmosphere is swell! I recommend the ham sandwich and the red velvet cake (I’m going to ask them to make hummingbird cake—the father to my friend Brian’s favorite cake—and now mine too). I sent a txt to my friend Scott (as he loves to eat and it is down the street from his house) and he said that he had popped in for a bran muffin one morning that was fantastic.

Chango is not a bakery. It is barely a coffee shop btw. Walk 20 more yards and find gustatory satisfaction.

.:tt:.

How To Order in Strange Places or They Ran Out of Things to Write About

This made me shake my head.

Who said "regional cusine" is the best?

I'm just not sure what I think of this idea.

Scallops in St. Louis?

For shame.

.:tt:.