tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7137891389605303412024-03-12T16:15:21.951-07:00FoodstuffsEat good food and listen to great musicUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger221125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713789138960530341.post-10767869183613493252014-07-03T11:15:00.000-07:002014-07-03T11:15:00.053-07:00Viets in VogueI've always thought that Viets are in vogue. But now that Angelina Jolie has welcomed Pax Thien into her multiculti brood, the people from the peaceful south, as we Viets are known, are representing. I think it's delicious justice that Jolie has two kids from previously warring nations: Maddox from Cambodia and Pax from Vietnam. I wonder if the tykes will play out the border skirmishes that have marred relations between their native lands in their new home. My cousin Peony joked that Pax might make flip-flops trendy. <br/>Last week, at a dinner with colleagues from another newspaper and a PR firm, I tasted trendy Viet cuisine at Crustacean, a new high-end restaurant in Beverly Hills, Calif. An extension of San Francisco's Crustacean, where I had feasted on Dungeness crab and other modern, albeit pricey, adaptations of Viet dishes five years ago, this restaurant reminded me of an opium den with its dimly lit interior, ceiling fans, second floor interior patio made of dark wood and brightly multicolored carp swimming in the aquarium encased under the clear floors. But the restaurant wasn’t stuck in time as a colonial caricature. After all, there was a live band accompanying customers who had one too many lychee martinis on karaoke and thus turning the restaurant into another kind of caricature. Still, that distraction was minor, especially compared to the yummy food, which was prepared by the family's matriarch. And yummy is understood by everyone, no matter what language they speak.<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ_BMuejL7c_nN-ZRe-38Ri_bq8H9q2qVQr8cK1QvJPhrViKQYO48BFjxwNkAI_Dn5djtVxSV6kNsQzvnAU8-KmsUXjiof-tjOPZo_RmHP4geo-AaYwEgoO4DKMj1VjQB4QvgGJzRexjRk/s200/Crustacean+appetizer+trio.jpg"><br/>This is the tapas trio comprising ahi tuna taco, eggroll stuffed with shrimp mousse and beef carpaccio. I think the traditional Vietnamese eggrolls are already perfect with their filling of carrots, turnips, ground pork and lump crab meat. Of the two wrappers that eggrolls are usually made with -- rice or egg -- I prefer the rice paper because it is lighter than the egg version and becomes translucent when fried. Still, Crustacean's egg wrapper version was a nice try at chichi crunchiness. The ahi tuna taco and beef carpaccio were both tasty, though I think they were probably added to the menu to appease the Euro-leaning Beverly Hills crowd.<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiciYbkD2GetMUsnBxLRE_csbQ_WrLiZhWkl__wz_xNzyFP78qeQo_6KswBS7nqBQbMMlyvCFgeuiJNJt3z6lYqksLck0DF79fGcYunCTdjSw9shNR-AlE5db5M8-C4211y9Ldsc_g0N_0G/s200/Crustacean+green+salad.jpg"><br/>Watercress is one of my favorite veggies. Perhaps the simplest dish my mom made was to boil the watercress in some water. After removing the cooked greens, she flavored the broth with a tomato, fish sauce and dried shrimp. We always had the boiled watercress and soup with shrimp sauteed in the shell with salt and some spices until they were a little caramelized. Here, Crustacean tossed watercress with frisee and mache, and plopped it atop thin slices of vine-ripened tomatoes and pears. The lemongrass vinaigrette was subtle, perhaps a little too much so that white pepper might have been a better seasoning than black pepper. Nonetheless, it was a very refreshing salad.<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGkfTRvszwrPOxXoiHYWSxTOuO9w4SqGYxhj4SKhdUwFVkeu9cE7KpVql2kh3vjLKdb990wkS9xutNR59XpNO9QsAY797mN_O7yvajDFiHN09VX4nIr3SB1Lll2xV4_WdC7CLsnr3DJjst/s200/Crustacean+ravioli.jpg"><br/>This ravioli made of rice flour was something that I could see my mom serving, if she ever had the time or energy to make banh cuon, or rice flour crepes. We usually buy it from someone who charges about $5 for a big plate that can feed three people. Crustacean opted to use fresh shrimp instead of the dried ones that were traditionally pulverized and seasoned with salt. It also stuffed the ravioli, whose wrapper was a tad thicker than expected, with braised fennel. The old-school Viet ravioli would have nothing but the dried shrimp or ground beef sauteed with dried mushrooms as filling. The garnish of fried onions added a touch of tradition.<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLqjXhcDQrQZ5_THh9E3E0vZRqD34eIH59RRF72LNCQEZ2x0gBQbmMtnWG_OjW6g01gFfVPKfZPTTVFniywhEG_sTs5r-NZjWjA8xqwqHVZZ3gkHN65-wJfu8WZkU69CZpCkq5XcpZMMxh/s200/Crustacean+prawns+garlic+noodles.jpg"><br/>For the fourth course, I was asked to choose between charbroiled tiger prawns and Mama Chef's famous garlic noodles or Chilean sea bass steamed on a bed of ginger and topped with scallions, cilantro and ginger citrus sauce. As you can see, I picked the shrimp with noodles. Delicious! Missy let me try a bite of her sea bass, which was also tasty. But the garlic noodles were the Viet version of comfort food, a pleasant antidote to carb-hostile Los Angeles.<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVr3LEJjgK8LpkRHyIZ63QpaGTwd-whNHb9M2c70oc4F8W-A4QoY1Y5QdKjqsJgQjPFBtX3X74nZx0wFAOg9-r0ZgP5Ou38csmAs3kbEHc7ktOx5f5rvJ1b5VlKNMMSOIyATtvZnAKrlGE/s200/Crustacean+Godiva+cake.jpg"><br/>Dessert was also an opportunity for me to exert my personality through the selection of a warm pistachio cake a la mode with apple ice cream or a warm walnut cake made with Godiva chocolate. So what if neither of these sweets originated in Vietnam. The chocolate cake was soft, gooey and rich. The caramelized candied walnuts sprinkled on top provided the perfect crunch. Unfortunately, I took only three bites before I had to bid quick adieus to my dinnermates and dash off to cover my last event for LA fashion week.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713789138960530341.post-41716258721113580062014-07-03T02:51:00.000-07:002014-07-03T02:51:00.623-07:00Pigs & Pinot<img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlDcAyWFmjRsz1YO234QZI0vYarlbdiTklkgEWezTlGuDJz9K6lvxu_CPqbtLceYUwdMJMXQsVaPYC7M7gxWxyydspRTyYWgVIeadonL6hjJEFsjMOQgpaWhrBwhyphenhyphenhEx60pX5DZfDBKLxU/s400/Charlie+Palmer+exterior.JPG">On Sunday, Miguelito and I hustled down to South Coast Plaza in Costa Mesa, Calif., to celebrate the birthday of a friend who turned 66. A momentous occasion called for an extraordinary meal. So we pulled into the high-end shopping center's parking lot in front of Charlie Palmer at Bloomingdale's. It also helped that the birthday boy is a good buddy of Palmer's.<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjUvEl-mxv5UOkVMS1A1p9PZVDWnWaXfCYYehTlF3I3snrrFsItka4_Mhb984cCSbthIwbFkG5vvTIxvoHohW-oWq7TBHzC2P5hzm7fyeegp9ra6sDvu-v_FzmTyTnrsgyKAoRQZcNNQcC/s400/Charlie+Palmer+pig+oven.JPG">The personal connection with the cooking maestro earned me a mini tour of the kitchen, where executive chef Amar Santana let me peep at one of the two -- count 'em, two -- suckling pigs that he prepared for our extravagant feast.<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinhCgwLLfL-ZUuXuV6vzITJAkokBvpoFDtrsYjpDzemOdh7wAqR2tFJiul4ZwDgziYHkR88d8ecqfWxDjU0b1PRqj6GM3eirolTBYgjWhQ-ivtuXKBD8EVUptOImDepeKyevz0rTbBpWxr/s400/Charlie+Palmer+plate.JPG">In tribute to Palmer's famed seminar, Pigs & Pinot, where participants spend a weekend in Healdsburg, Calif., learning how to make the most of the other white meat, Santana paired a Pinot noir with our dinner. (Our appetizer of seared foie gras with pears and apples was complemented by a Riesling.) Santana used every piggy part for our dinner. From left to right in the photo, my plate was filled with lentils, pork belly, crackling skin, polenta, sweet potatoes and shallots, Brussels sprouts roasted with bacon, mushrooms and a rillette of pig's ear stuffed inside pork belly.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713789138960530341.post-66547138837710335122014-07-02T18:27:00.000-07:002014-07-02T18:27:00.215-07:00Electroclash Tacos<img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4330/169/200/jd%20taco.jpg"><br/><img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4330/169/200/jd%20june.jpg"><br/>Six moons ago, my pals and I ended a night of head-bopping and booty-shaking with some $1 tacos. It was fitting that we closed the night with some carnitas in Los Angeles' Echo Park neighborhood because we kicked off the nocturnal festivities with a Hollywood concert for a multicultural hard-rock band called Madrepore. The group's half-Mexican singer didn't let his open fly distract him from crooning in Spanish. I can't think of any food that would have complemented the electroclash dancing that followed our rock-out en espanol. But my friend's boa certainly goes well with any midnight snack.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713789138960530341.post-32210946674426645932014-07-02T10:03:00.000-07:002014-07-02T10:03:00.414-07:00Cobras & Scorpios<img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4330/169/200/isabel%20bday%20cake.jpg"><br/>Isabel celebrated her birthday on Friday with a flourless chocolate cake, chickpea pancakes, pork tenderloin stuffed with bacon, crab croquettes and other little plates of delight from Cobras & Matadors' kitchen. There was also lots of discussion about sex -- and posing for suggestive pictures involving churros -- at the table among Isabel's randy friends. I was the prudish one who kept telling the others, "TMI: too much information!" I talked more about sex tonight with my five dinnermates than I had in a year with my other pals. Scott, the uninhibited Floridian who lassoed our blond waitress into the raunchy tales with a question about the name of a certain sexual act, assumed the position of matador -- until the check arrived. The server bypassed him to take instructions from me on how to split the bill. "I'm the matador!" the baby-face Scott said to the waitress. "She's the cobra!" the waitress retorted, pointing to me. Ssssss!<br/><img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4330/169/200/yuca%27s%20tamale.jpg"><br/>After dinner, and some suburban debauchery, I crashed at Isabel's house. On the way back to my place the next morning, we stopped at Yuca's, my neighborhood taco stand that won a James Beard award for its cochinita pibil, or Yucatan-style baked marinated pork, stuffed in tamales, taco, tortas and burritos. Isabel ran into one of her co-workers who was picking up brunch for her rambunctious four-year-old son and hungover hubbie. The little boy liked my purple boots. "Cowboy girl," he called me. Once we learned that he and I share the same birthday in November, we gave each other high-fives and called each other birthday buddies. Scorpios rule!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713789138960530341.post-41384409266243809992014-07-02T01:39:00.000-07:002014-07-02T01:39:00.057-07:00Artful Architecture<img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4330/169/200/florencia.jpg"><br/>My friend Bruna tipped me off on a gallery reception yesterday at SciArc for an Argentine architect named Florencia Pita. "Imagine a Junya Watanabe ruffle pattern transformed into architecture in a shiny magenta 67 PETG," Bruna said, adding that she wrote a fairy tale to accompany the artwork. A big fan of Watanabe, I had to pop in for a visit. Plus, I was already wearing my blue suede boots, which made me feel as if I were a character stepping out of the woods in a Grimm fairytale. I wasn't prepared for the shock of pink waves that greeted me in the shoebox of a gallery space. My writer's mind brimmed with metaphors: tripe, Balenciaga's Victorian-inspired blouses for spring 2006, an accordion, cotton candy, a garden maze, etc. Pita, who is in her early 30s and has been teaching at SciArc for fewer than five years, said she came up with the idea for the vinyl and foam installation after seeing a fashion and textile exhibit at the Cooper-Hewitt in New York. She supervised 57 students at the architecture school for the month-long project to cut, by hand, pink vinyl sheets that were attached together with metal screws and also to shape lavender foam that resembled sand waves left by a receding ocean tide. Clad in all black with a choker composed of pearl-sized laboratory glass beads, Pita had enough style and charm to get anyone to do anything. She said she originally wanted to have the pink sheets stand vertically in linear rows. On the gallery's smooth pink floor, however, the straight sheets fell over. So she decided to attach them at intervals and form curves that could defy gravity. The best view of the installation was from the second-floor catwalk above the gallery.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713789138960530341.post-79578323004300771612014-07-01T17:15:00.000-07:002014-07-01T17:15:00.348-07:00The Last Viet Meal<img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4330/169/200/huong%20que%20menu.jpg"><br/>For my last Viet meal in Virginia, my dad yesterday took me to Huong Que, one of the most popular restaurants in the D.C. area which happens to be owned by a guy who went to junior high with my mom in Vietnam. Though the restaurant's Viet name can be translated as "home fragrance," most Americans know it by its Anglo moniker: Four Sisters, which was in tribute to the four daughters in the family. I'm not sure how many know that there are only three sisters working in the family business now, as The Washington City Paper has reported.<br/><img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4330/169/200/Huong%20Que%20goi%20cuon.jpg"><br/>My $6.25 lunch special started with a spring roll, wrapped the traditional way with the green onion strand sticking out of one end.<br/><img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4330/169/200/huong%20que%20chicken.jpg"><br/>The lemongrass-marinated chicken was so tender that I didn't even need my serrated knife to cut it.<br/><img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4330/169/200/huong%20que%20cafe.jpg"><br/>My dad ordered the Viet coffee. Just as they do in Vietnam, the server brought a thermos of hot water for my dad to pour into the filter himself.<br/><img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4330/169/200/song%20que.jpg"><br/>After lunch, we went next door to Song Que, the deli that is also run by the Lai-Tran family. I bought sweet porridge speckled with black beans and the coconut milk on the side, sticky red rice with fresh grated coconut and sticky rice steamed with peanuts to eat on the train ride to New York. I had already stuffed my tote with a papaya and Asian pears for the trip. I'm turning into my mother! Next thing you know, I'll be carrying bags of dried shrimp to Los Angeles.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713789138960530341.post-52047427493792048602014-07-01T08:51:00.000-07:002014-07-01T08:51:00.477-07:00Job Perks<img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo5gYAmqMjX1Rtc6TMTrAZ4x8IzLY4gloGA1FBX0kWeHJpVeE8U5Vx25c-ldsou4VaUB8gSllKB0dgGbeUgF9WhXGReUhE0mQefoXjwFTh1vy4wbrORQM6x6-ToyRsticimNScCT7mFHCY/s400/Submarines.JPG"><br/>I am a social person who has a social job that often requires me to mingle with socials (that is, socialites, instead of Socialists) from the design, art, music and film worlds. This is the bird's-eye view of a free show played by The Submarines at a party hosted by an action sports line. Even if I didn't have to report on this event for a story, I would have tried to catch couple Blake Hazard and John Dragonetti playing live. I loved the album "Declare A New State!" that they made after they broke up. The music created from their pain was hypnotic. Since then, the singer and guitarist got back together and released "Honeysuckle Weeks." A little peppier, presumably from their reconciled bliss, the new album is just as good as the predecessor. Plus, Blake is quite the ingenious fashionista with her stash of vintage clothes and H & M finds. I liked how her pigtails and prairie-style frock coordinated with the daisies decorating her keyboard.<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbM4SUMO1MTbfBwClzm1KnJhL7xLL-gUFhJw75Tfqag4zQgFOLKBXAflKU_3j22UQFHVkdZM6O0QQ7oCYlLqEmoGdXBj_zKxjsNGCfaL8nSSQNFC8dJSBzRFPY6AM0SCOzwr3qEOZ1ASNR/s400/Raw+Nights+party+crowd.JPG"><br/>On another night, I went to a one-night-only art show that a European denim brand hosted in Beverly Hills with Dennis Hopper, who curated. Hopper is a respected photographer in his own right. The access he had to the vibrant personalities from his Hollywood heyday in the Sixties and Seventies was the source of some striking images. In the parking lot behind the apparel company's showroom, Hopper hung Civil War-style military uniforms near a white convertible classic. Illuminated above the heads of the scruffy dudes and chicks with short hair and long, skinny legs, were projections of Hopper's artwork.<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx2k82axEw47LI0nxt3Mnxc5_Ak08OeogIFcYaxOadnRms5FHXw_lkr0opbLGxLR4WpwNZiVHp-a57612P9zz7zXyaBJ1fVhZbmMKXzBqqGV4Ip1RWsQnz6w6gRkpH6ivLDIVObNMzLUWg/s400/Raw+Nights+mural.JPG"><br/>This appears to be a painted billboard of a photo that Hopper took decades ago.<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs-OCpwxJQzXx2RK1AS2mzc52PEFn4JRdHTiiUYDwGrhk4NNc4-mNapO4BjmehqOB14CTJEJUGXON9u3ZHIEw3OSspidxrx_jhu5IcVbnN4Q34-z9qOKqlZn8TXZ4OmBKez129v7ULSZX7/s400/Raw+Nights+trashed+art.JPG"><br/>Hopper's son, Henry, also carries the creative gene. I missed his real-time creation of a paper and plastic installation that sprawled over a quarter of the parking lot. I did catch his destruction of the piece, an act that was also part of the art, I was told. The hipsters seemed unfazed by the trash. They continued to sip their champagne, forage for mini burgers and dot their mouths with white linen napkins. Well after Henry Hopper got bored of his art, these tykes jumped in to accelerate the denouement.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713789138960530341.post-73491898866474983262014-07-01T00:27:00.000-07:002014-07-01T00:27:00.059-07:00Pet StarsMy sister is a big fan of Animal Planet's hit TV show "Pet Star." Because I don't live with two sweetly rambunctious herding dogs as she does, I don't feel compelled to wake up early every Saturday morning to watch Spencer Lococo the Rhodesian Ridgeback, Einstein the parrot and other talented critters shine in the spotlight. But after my Shanghai-based friend Lisa alerted me to this video of a kitty playing a theremin, I felt an urge to become a talent scout for "Pet Star." I love that the performer has a feline fan, who looks just as confused as human audiences do when they see a theremin in action.<br/><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/0ONJfp95yoE & hl=en"></embed><br/>Theremin kitty is but the second musically inclined animal I've seen in the past four days. On Friday, Miguelito and I joined his rocker buddies at El Cid on Sunset Boulevard to watch a guy wearing a tight bunny suit bang on an electronic panel while hip-hop samples were cued in the background.<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq7BfknNGPwHY2o-Xc2TM6oZMDZh9IKp0vgn2viGK3t_pEZWTQS72e8bQVHMVHQ-D3EAbvh_WnN3DEjqSnjYy-4dIze2ejRb-ysPxZcWXFs2zXyUFFFxeZz54v9ILEq90zijW3iVxrw8bn/s400/Bobb+Bruno.jpg"><br/>The plushy performer's name is Bobb Bruno and his Web site is called Bunny Tuff. The photo I took on my cell phone doesn't do justice to Bobb, or show the puff of a tail in the back and the ripped seams under his armpits. Bobb was the musical equivalent of an amuse-bouche for the head-banging duo known as Tweak Bird. Miguelito and I both agreed that the guitarist resembled a grungy version of "Project Runway" winner Christian Siriano. Fierce!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713789138960530341.post-89526877785157682162014-06-30T16:03:00.000-07:002014-06-30T16:03:00.167-07:00Plus-Ones and Schlubby Guys<img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEildpxZI_oDxO3qldtQB3KvIsgxe-kDAx7be4nwfqCtq94Rac49p_MWdv1b2U-qIJhFv3lqkSIPbmGWNwFVNH53L9NMNm_CtTTHPOSnjCmbcFgzMyYYDGflfqSiLuwNqfjsFM1Ly1rlWR7Q/s400/HBO+John+party.JPG"><br/>Having been invited to all the HBO premieres in the past three months, I've been the 30-something version of the popular girl on campus. This is the view of the after-party for the surf-themed drama called "John from Cincinnati." We were standing some 20 miles from the ocean, but HBO hauled sand, a VW van and fish tacos to make you think you were just steps away from the waves. The surf videos were groovy. I was told that surfers like to watch other surfers surf. I couldn't figure out why until I caught myself standing in front of the giant projection for a few minutes with my pal and plus-one, Sho, just gawking at the super-cool moves the cinematic shredders performed.<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj77KREOcm2_LtmqxStjXxQ9JXW-kSUsEyM94RneDIYWuHw6eQoLZGYmn4TO7kxDI-xGaFsYfClD3RzsiV-g7TyIJEaCt2f7zQ8vDzrU9QTr7XWh0CJ_EimZ5Uex7yDT3QBvxJH9u9ltZI6/s400/HBO+Big+Love+1.JPG"><br/>The following week, the "Big Love" party peeps hired some foxy ladies dressed as birds to swing in giant cages for their bash. Caged birds=Mormon wives=miserable lives? I don't know. But this feathered female was hot. I could never handle polygamy. I've always been selfish in the sense that I want all the attention on me and to devote my loving to one person. Still, I couldn't pass up a chance to catch the first episode of the second season. I was a bit lost during the hour, but my pal and plus-one, Isabel, gave me a 30-second synopsis of the first season's finale. I am happy that I've warmed up to so many friends in Los Angeles that I've got a rotating roster of plus-ones. A few days later, Colin was my plus-one to a party thrown for a celebrity fashion line. I had him hold my mini beef Wellington while I dug into my purse for a business card to give to an apparel executive.<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh82fKHJxbf9WW97VQO8gj_V5zWlJ8u2dYiAG-JBNwnK5v9h8mdM9sclAszfnWiuf5vVWtyM9EzhqrGC0Ei3CjJ0_j6LromALThu0z3sUDe3VHPSKNApGEeFecTtCUYDk6cMJAL3jVpjcp1/s400/HBO+Big+Love+2.JPG"><br/>I nearly lost my appetite when I saw the box filled with dead butterflies at the "Big Love" bash. I quickly recuperated and gobbled up four corn tamales.<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS5RkuSyuR5MBX4VKR3YtcyEHCnXyCcZXRCKiDEB-4hI3MqqbGxdlHJtHLe3KzWJ_uX8XZG87NwS3HEJftWLomqEmxHzKMbmbFAtWBEbwQ2MzzYDPSzwjiqqaiBfuZnc2dSCeZzDllX-va/s400/Bagel+Shack.JPG"><br/>Two days after the polygamy party, Max and I drove to San Diego for a writer's workshop. The aim was to master techniques for reporting and writing a narrative story. I was a little too seasoned for the workshop, which accepted about 40 people. It would have been better to halve the number of participants and actually have people talk about actual stories they were working on like a real workshop. Still, it was quite a bonding session with Max. We left Los Angeles at 6:30 on a Saturday morning and grabbed breakfast at the halfway point in San Clemente at The Bagel Shack, which was a cross between a Jewish bagel shop and a tiki hut. I ordered the multigrain bagel filled with microwaved eggs, cheddar cheese and bacon. If I ate one of these every morning for the rest of my life, I'd turn out schlubby. That synonym usually used for a chubby, unkempt dude was used at least 20 times throughout the day by Max and me. On the drive back to Los Angeles, Max said I should write a narrative about how schlubby guys are hot. That pitch is a reflection of Max's personal opinion, not of mine. He urged to bring on the sexy slobs! Myself, I prefer scruffy guys who are long, lean and smell good. Still, Max and I brainstormed a list of schlubby guys who are hot. They include:<br/>Philip Seymour Hoffman (although Max said the Oscar-winning actor "doesn't count for some reason. Too arty, weird.")<br/>Jack Black<br/>the bassist from The Hives<br/>LCD Sound System's James Murphy<br/>Sean Astin, especially in his hobbit outfit<br/>Seth Rogen from "Knocked Up"<br/>Donal Logue from "The Tao of Steve" and in MTV's Jimmy the cabbie skits<br/>Hot ChipUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713789138960530341.post-6413054235178260502014-06-30T07:39:00.000-07:002014-06-30T07:39:00.614-07:00Scrumptious San DiegoI was in San Diego last weekend to cover a trade show. But as soon as I arrived at my hotel in the port city, I had to hunker down in my hotel room and interview a couple of denim designers for a late-breaking story. Just before I had to balance a cell phone on my shoulder to conduct the interview, room service arrived with my lunch of seared tuna salad, seasoned cole slaw and green tea.<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitq5-nUALB-_Bw1HZ01a2Gb_jQ2GNWMaSdW3ZCs89xPwQfRKiHikW6sHfvyWekE1mhyphenhyphen3Q3-uoFtyGt-Fo8BJ_-qj7L8QdjTePePTsLpHHGFArh83vQsGP-ljvk6nbA8w7gbK3QC61_r4yE/s400/W+San+Diego+seared+tuna.JPG"><br/>Later that night, I joined a couple of other writers and a source for dinner at Red Pearl. The fusion food at Red Pearl isn't anything to write home about, although the yuzu lemon drop is something worth straggling home drunk for. What made our meal special was that we sat at the table set inches away from the fire-breathing stove and sous chefs who were busily chopping vegetables. I concede that service was a little faster at the kitchen table in comparison to the pick-up joint-cum-dining room. But it was a little weird sitting between the cooks and the pedestrians peering through the large glass window. At least I had on a photogenic top made by Lemon Twist that I bought at least five years ago but will still be in vogue next spring when geometric prints become all the rage. My dinnermate also got the memo about wearing some colorful blocks on her shirt.<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVpfZCfa1vJGENbnxMtrXaTJGasD2Zzje9zCX_laNxObb5-o-W8I16QuI64PdJ0yQgtXA_hx7JTR7v3dWIgcPFFJXidDXCK5rXc-Fb07uLKKCQEDkogsRhZs5LOgxGnmmXr5ePd2nC409X/s400/Red+Pearl+Khanh.JPG"><br/>These other dinnermates decided to be more graphically laid back. Don't they remind you of dolphins waiting for their fishy snack at Sea World?<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE1d7SgVQQYVr8Hf5kVsbJu774VoKwgdJvCq8LzI2I-dInQ69E2cTfsQhYzSg7lXfETeJkwsneNQixqC_ra6RWKGTcVVTHGToOHRb2PBqdJ2Diovm4_FqRBzhp7h5TU3XjB4Fm9wTqcAWx/s400/Red+Pearl+Rachel+Max.JPG"><br/>As I've noted previously on my blog, I always drop by Cafe Chloe whenever I'm in San Diego. On this trip, I went there twice. I had to return the second time because of the dessert. But I also wanted to try every single item on the menu. For a solo Sunday lunch, I had the croque madame with a glass of lavender lemonade at the bar.<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtoOKKuqb1TRx-UH1P-iXk8XSTjUl1uPta4OV2O4e8Fzy_evE8eBkZoJb8eET-vgKMrrVxBXtPfld_A_IKT2uMc1oMObfXrQ1EyZatl9gKSrgU0VYnHpZOTpD-FQBjxodZ87dtbM1td12t/s400/Cafe+Chloe+croque+madame.JPG"><br/>The frisee salad was softened with a couple of roasted tomatoes. The gnarly leaves are usually too bitter. But Cafe Chloe picked a mellow bunch, which was perfect for sopping up the bechamel sauce that drenched the ham and fried egg on brioche toast.<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP5-ggtqZgKRL9wIefjBRn1oRHm2_mMeRBJHf7hIHEZtIJDUB8z_WDMrIHiCk4i_wxOabzfgjzIezs3pD6rlCcSmaZJco7GllXzXmJDJlFjNA3I_ceN1BJXFM7aqW5__HPG6eC8B2BveNx/s400/Cafe+Chloe+creme+fraiche+ice+cream.JPG"><br/>But the real reason for my return was the creme fraiche ice cream. It was sour and sweet at the same time. On the previous day, I shared a rosemary-tinged pear galette with a scoop of creme fraiche ice cream. I loved the frozen dessert so much that on my second visit I asked for two scoops of the ice cream alone. Delish!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713789138960530341.post-2223511861627425672014-06-29T23:15:00.000-07:002014-06-29T23:15:00.495-07:00E-Cards<img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4330/169/200/emili%20card.jpg"><br/>I previously wrote about the delightful note cards Emili made. Because I didn't have a photo, my kid sister's sock puppy got all the attention in the earlier entry. Today I snapped a picture of an E-Card that Emili gave to a departing summer intern in our office.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713789138960530341.post-79120604578252861332014-06-29T14:51:00.000-07:002014-06-29T14:51:00.477-07:00Chimay and Fritos<img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4330/169/200/coles%20chimay.jpg"><br/>I went to Cole's on Saturday night to check out Nora Keyes. Her show started well after the kitchen closed at 8:30 p.m. The Chimay ale wasn't going to fill my empty stomach. So I forked over a buck for a bag of Fritos. The bartender supplemented my carb diet with a bowl of Pepperidge Farms' goldfish.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713789138960530341.post-65882787834580843522014-06-29T06:27:00.000-07:002014-06-29T06:27:00.254-07:00Swedish SundayMissy woke me up at 9 a.m. to let me know that she was going to pick me up in 45 minutes and drive me to Ikea's annual sale. She was eager to arrive just as the doors open at 10 o'clock. Why did I agree to share a Swedish Sunday with her at such an early hour?<br/><img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4330/169/200/657018/ikea%20hippo.jpg"><br/>Because I wanted to get the best deal on a three-foot-long crocodile that will be the gift for a photographer's third child. I should probably include a pack of contraceptives for the father as well.<br/><img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4330/169/200/998934/ikea%20octopus.jpg"><br/>Big toys need little friends. On sale for 25 cents, this stuffed octopus was tangled in the care label attached to it.<br/><img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4330/169/200/74777/home%20salmon%20benedict.jpg"><br/>Missy and I made it out of Ikea in two hours. I thought that was rather long but Missy said it was an average performance. Darting through the showrooms and up and down the aisles, digging through crates for duvet covers and waiting for my butcher block kit to arrive at the furniture pick-up got us hungry. So we both ate eggs benedict with smoked salmon at Home near my house. Swedes like salmon, ja?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713789138960530341.post-34620587103026081052014-06-28T22:03:00.000-07:002014-06-28T22:03:00.613-07:00Getting Down to Business at Boiling Crab<img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg50gVVbt3xK0rXESF9RLBlPtIBv4aLSS_GWjzehyphenhyphenjw5TPN2LL0hFp5843CJGDgWPhqhyphenhyphenWnYL3V3mXmMUBPemMyM00AEGV07BFXFq1XeCYsKnKSZx7iLLC914cGgA0jhZTggrOGdYsvPLzX/s400/P1030055.JPG"><br/>It's been four years since my last crayfish meal. For the latest feast, I didn't hop on a plane to Sweden. I just had to toodle in my car to Boiling Crab in San Gabriel Valley. I have to thank Johnny and Khue for serving as my guides in a night of sampling a smorgasbord of seafood, spices and other savory slime.<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuM6-Ld02wOP9U08NFDggIL2Xu-p7Ld2NdSLX696wXD8pPZhSTcOfLXqCIyMv8t_c84w9-oWEPt24mEwQPkvM_IbiNOjLJGSFQaAKsYOcX-AM4piK4ivctyNTtcIl7uvU03V7XkbCXkzmM/s400/P1030056.JPG"><br/>We started with a platter of oysters. Boiling Crab doesn't bother with any niceties. There are no plates, finger bowls and metal utensils to help you crack open the crustacean shells. You just get bibs, a roll of paper towels and a giant sheet of white paper that doubles as tablecloth and plate. The only sort of platter I spied was the one for the oysters (filled with ice, of course).<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVOL_lHPoRGlWr5C6E7apb0saaxHJB65_tMUwqlGVts7N4xsRFz0sdKA5ygdKqfXEuv9NsjPE8ZFGkCqQemMt_wrSVPgS72yW6mW5e6DBp5fjVtAW804ZuhgKWaJuP_b-sOmfcMEavE1c_/s400/P1030057.JPG"><br/>We squirted the ketchup for the Cajun fries right on top of the paper.<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimVWSQm1x7GMy-AJcRhW_fhKxOc52kwHzv8Q67k8Bkr13Yt6s3LjNguA6cCO0zXnf4lCxgvVvIX2j-oglfwnlcBTNeDoUBDw21CBauMULP7VlzRv7XSnkBl1qCt5FAZhl1PgIzb-m-yZyb/s400/P1030058.JPG"><br/>Miguelito and I decided to wear clothes that we didn't mind spilling food on (i.e., H & M).<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAqbq4aBeex3K3KphC8a5uSEWizIp0gR_XUmBU0NTxOM3BOha2Zr4oo0uvDLPNIBQJaVvVxmbsTaVHi0Zcv5c1Xebx__PkmUaOaDBT_mUnVO7_1PxkfDJjN-FAKiM9nF8uHkV1lBEiOgeO/s400/P1030059.JPG"><br/>This was the kind of meal that required you to put your hair in a ponytail. Stray strands would hinder maximum eating.<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKTtPSGpZ9JOxxfG41_mIsZBZfthEpNDGVsi3Qzeb7KJgARglV58ngqIow5y0LJXq3_I5-uUwd6d_G0Z1vEMmtIKjO23r8yQaxPMWZeMdyBxkUDEI0UXhSULz671f856ZQjs4qKByyKuqh/s400/P1030061.JPG"><br/>With a squeeze of lime juice and a dab of hot sauce, the oysters prepared our palates for the main course....<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfZ09_3JI2ZJ4T5B3IocRvLeKSzcAvqN7dURHc2vXe-Z1velT4bv5MjAIfLwFrLkDaGsBH-tJYViFTv_O_Fh84x7Rc9KSuoZegzMBfwfEjHiEAhNlLyt9AlX_zm2vsMh5LAQAmLhvCNw08/s400/P1030062.JPG">which arrived in a big plastic bag.<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC09gRcoch_z55MKWBUVje4_lR83MAzioNgzWo-eVs5ytKXY_G0CVEYrD0JCsGvklzFUM5UDdZpX_svrTvJVB0Q7JN9QAFIOediUbl4KTVQ7ZauEtDAftLee-hcifHi8JGYXJckDeb8fea/s400/P1030063.JPG"><br/>We didn't order the crabs that gave the restaurant its name. Instead, we asked for four pounds of crayfish and two pounds of shrimp. Hidden in the mess were a couple of cobs of corn. Everything was drenched in garlic and Cajun spiciness.<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVOfw7jOVxHnQvz_q5aJxGGQMpPCqjRNL5uJDB5sOd2H28UyFWJxxk1TQrSGsrY_XLhgloa41p2ipumLsqdMmRTaotCR9g8X9awxW7LSDa0QzwRO05pybcH1rA8CXa52myWjW21cdNHb_d/s400/P1030064.JPG"><br/>Extra flavor came in plastic containers: aioli and a salt-and-pepper blend with which we could mix freshly squeezed lime juice at the table.<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiheCAXzr_cecC_Rg01Pwc3XuA9y8MrFqvYhHeUZLvlaBcz-IIkFFdV2qO-KzTTDIsIQ5b32vwiKq86XLYbYuXao4axMP1wVEKF4Oy3bB8vVCvL0QKFM5vVzoLqJBfADO6CC6T-SUJfwhpr/s400/P1030065.JPG"><br/>It was truly a night of DIY dining.<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG2UXQqjMQu2DxV18cspJsM6JzTkqBBpqvsGe1OkpSbNKBo_wGEnx5557IcdpR2Tsj6zlIija3bCOSg6qFr05x9QE6TiKVQp_6kMq4gc0sFcrfJ83RcUvarfWNdQnwNt7bNdRWdkySuzQL/s400/P1030066.JPG"><br/>The potpourri of cayenne pepper and paprika made the crayfish pop in intense crimson.<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW3GexIBs4-Us_y_8lAwHHTkYYqsLuJUkNmZ5806Uldy0Wj2IUrKdE20ipNCBlkEIEXs3-lKPB0_ZH4EYhUnEhennfjp3NCvzTkUwVPiJYUGEsYCdoSpWBlm27wifODSd5Z7j189yFzGZ6/s400/P1030067.JPG"><br/>Unsated by our initial order of five pounds of food, we ordered two more pounds of crayfish and another of shrimp. This was the scene of the devastation at the end of the night.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713789138960530341.post-23418170442463605252014-06-28T13:39:00.000-07:002014-06-28T13:39:00.222-07:00Getting Freaky in 'FriscoWell, I didn't get that freaky. But I had to use poetic license for a headline that encapsulated how much fun I had in San Francisco over the past four days. My summer vacation, as chronicled by my meals:<br/><img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4330/169/200/tartine%20macaroons.jpg"><br/>After a press screening of "Seros Queridos," a Spanish comedy that tormented me with a cliched plot and predictable characters before surprising me with an uplifting ending, I snacked on coconut macaroons flavored with lemon zest at Tartine in San Francisco's Dolores Park neighborhood. I must thank Mai for inviting me to the press screening at the Variety Club preview room and educating me on the etiquette not to discuss the film while still in the screening room. My innocuous question about Max Berliner's other movie roles could have tainted another (re)viewer's opinion of the flick. It was Spare-the-Air day in San Francisco, so we took the BART for free from Union Square to Dolores Park, where we sat at an outdoor table and watched all the folks walk by while nibbling on our cookies and sipping pink lemonade and iced white peony tea. "SSC," Mai said to me as a super-styling-couple (she in dark minidress, he in T-shirt and straight-leg jeans) strolled by.<br/><img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4330/169/200/sf%20street%20stencil.jpg"><br/>After our snack, Mai and I walked to a boutique that recently opened in the neighborhood. When walking around San Francisco, I always make a point to look up to gaze at the colorful murals and clever graffiti. Mai reminded me to look down at the sidewalk. An emo street artist has been on the rampage recently in the foggy city, spray-painting stencils of non sequiturs that are simultaneously amusing and annoying. One such memento inspired a rebuttal by a citizen who found it more of the latter.<br/><img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4330/169/200/sf%20johnson%27s%20pound%20cake.jpg"><br/>After Mai left to make her evening appointment, I wandered the Mission Park neighborhood and looked up to find an aged ad for pound cake.<br/><img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4330/169/200/citizen%20cake%20polenta.jpg"><br/>On Saturday, my sister, Tu, and I went to Hayes Valley so that I could check out a couple of boutiques that a colleague had recently profiled. It was so hot that Tu and I slipped into Citizen Cake for something cold to drink. "Brunch or dessert?" the host in an all-black outfit asked us. "Brunch and dessert," we cheerfully replied. I had a bowl of polenta mixed with cheddar cheese and scallions and topped with a soft-boiled egg. The bacon was baked to be crunchy but not greasy. Tu had a scoop of plum ginger sorbet with a ginger molasses cookie. She said the combo of sorbet and an iced tea helped cool her temperature by 5 degrees.<br/><img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4330/169/200/flaming%20lips%20berkeley.jpg"><br/>Later on Saturday, Tu, her fiance, Travis, and I headed to Berkeley to see The Flaming Lips play with Ween and Liars. The Go! Team cancelled for some reason, so art-rock group Liars kicked off the show on time at 6:30 p.m. Travis wasn't impressed by Liars, but I liked them because I could hear the influence of The Boredoms on their music. Liars were more closely linked in sound to the Lips than to Ween. Still, Ween played a great 75-minute set with a sweet encore that almost convinced me that they, instead of the Lips, were the main act. The Lips finally came on. Wayne Coyne walked above the crowd in a clear plastic bubble. He also tossed balloons into the crowd and shot streamers out of a gun into the air. The band was flanked throughout the night by a group of sexy girls in purple and silver microdresses and green alien masks to the left and a band of Santa Clauses to the right. Coyne's voice was giving, but both he and the crowd were so sincere and happy and high on pot and life that everyone had fun. "Simply being around people enjoying life makes you enjoy life," he told the crowd.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713789138960530341.post-37022423569689649012014-06-28T05:15:00.000-07:002014-06-28T05:15:00.092-07:00The Health Express<img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4330/169/200/orean.jpg"><br/><img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4330/169/200/orean%20chili%20burger.jpg"><br/>I was one hour late for band practice on Saturday because I was getting a mani-pedi. I had to make sure my fingers were pretty enough for a Clara Rockmore-worthy performance. Rolando Relic, Devilish Diaconescu and VoxRox Vesilind threatened to kick me out of the band because of my tardiness. But when Rolando realized that I was getting pretty for the group, he let me stay. He also took me and the beloved devil to a street corner in Pasadena that is a fast-food junkie's idea of heaven. Next to Roscoe's Chicken and Waffles is a KFC, which is next to a Carl's Jr., which is across the street from a McDonald's, which is adjacent to Orean. Our post-practice lunch was made by Orean, which advertises itself as a vegetarian fast-food drive-thru. We walked up to the front window and ordered our food to eat at one of the five picnic tables. I had the veggie chili cheeseburger with the veggie chili fries and a strawberry slush spiked with ginseng. I don't know why some people think that adding alfalfa sprouts to a dish makes it healthier. Sprouts were piled atop my cheeseburger. I hate sprouts. They taste bad and teem with bacteria that can never be completely washed clean. After I pulled the tangle of sprouts out of my sandwich, I was able to enjoy the mushiness of the beans and veggie patty. I think if the cooks replicated the chili from Tommy's with beans instead of beef, they would have the perfect chili cheeseburger. I couldn't eat all the chili cheese fries because the 90-degree heat made munching on anything that was at body temperature or warmer difficult. I didn't have a wet towel to tidy my nice nails that were smeared with chili. It was karma getting me back for being late to band practice.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713789138960530341.post-87800468120387321692014-06-27T20:51:00.000-07:002014-06-27T20:51:00.601-07:00Freebies<img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXv74KVLPEODFuyksgjPGkVNMMgkrpZ5um9FlmvTOUd3NpPEAE8S3iHv4vcZG7b53OH16A785Y2pC083VYtNdgiaCPL-jgO6F5uOVFJqvvDKWKfpQmBEhyix1x3XSzSvyqbtNFwN_l6b6O/s400/Lucky+Weiland.JPG"><br/>Covering black-tie galas can be simultaneously fun and stressful. The fun part comes from eating fancy food on fine porcelain plates. The stressful moment comes from departing the table suddenly to chase a quote from celebrity leaving the party early. At one recent party in Beverly Hills, Calif., I nibbled on antipasti while Scott Weiland sang a few ditties in a three-piece suit accessorized with a red Fedora and leopard-print belt.<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDZwCf1exFRDw19UUhrNEyFUe89Fu_c7yYKra0RSb04frUzj5CLX5_muMTY_ofyYTzjhhOJV3O9t_mj9hzVdZ08tHcoCE2qa7AG9byy9HX9SFfDxUhYevHUnbmGcmwFN7NBnipPm161bRL/s400/Lucky+Hall.JPG"><br/>Then came the main musical course. You got Daryl Hall...<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3Tx5JQ4ukHuSqJ8dIZalouDtlgRvmjkwvjm1XAzPWWhjBJdosndy70v4t8_QUR3zBcQU-jk8jU5XQb89MWsiomMdF6G-JMlmVuCJB8iE3aIPPqQHVZDEdarbruN9gQb4xpBL_rUv9tloz/s400/Lucky+Oates.JPG"><br/>with John Oates...<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPmcllHPc4KjtAF3YC8aWX20a5wrNjwOlbKZ5tyOLDjoMt_NVVyqToDe0HS_JlAHkzMJ_tGxgUYOTmgYOxjj2FAFCqDeJX9uGqg0ugkCiodSmYh3IHIjwzDX__jvgBYpK_cOPAzhM2o66Z/s400/Lucky+Hall+Oates.JPG"><br/>for Hall and Oates!<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0CqCbVKhBKyQXB9N7DUJBwHWFnHt45tQMDfpV1cyRwcYaRCsZLzvn6P5uf78sTA3Xd99Xovd1nCPGcvSqCHAKPQJ3bxdDwrjQfi2kMEagix65WT-PLdGYvnDrHXSlEoga5R0Nvf5CfCd_/s400/Lucky+ladies.JPG"><br/>The duo's Eighties hits worked up the fashion crowd in such a frenzy that several ladies spun on the lazy Susans atop the tables until security guards asked them to step down.<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieBclqC5N6gxV6P2JwkeoKHTD0hL7cq01aopkHYGHU79eXUxF_fCk85WiR10tsiDlj1oq7GSNazgSfZKZBVQ2ZDhnHvMOoNyCycjfbpvMucoWPU7juEwj8trowYw_XcGWiMFhYy2Q4owdT/s400/Smashing+Pumpkins+3.JPG"><br/>Some weeks later, I snapped up an invitation to see The Smashing Pumpkins at Universal Studios through my friend, Ben, who had signed up for a six-week roadie gig with the Pumpkins. It's hard to believe that the rock crew survived 20 years together. Actually, it's not too much of a surprise, as only two of the four original members played on the tour.<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRy21jIcgWwP03ox4Bz420WONkFmPm7V_xpOVzOVdgzhk8ubZw3yuHPQT02yJlO0v-jQZJSxwqN9He0Zp-zTnvnuiGut3LdLv0dWSRXyZAP-Ux34TaHZk4_df6T54_2faia29kgL9dWh2B/s400/Smashing+Pumpkins+1.JPG"><br/>Singer Billy Corgan picked up replacements for bassist D'arcy Wretzky and guitarist James Iha somewhere along the way. Jimmy Chamberlain continued to rock out on the drums.<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy6OsR7ZwygqtKWUAmRl9R2i4Hb7LFMN2N69g99kg4dTQcgrSLSoaTx6oX65H0BhncNz0Fr7DpqraTZLGbmjrlBLjImvtqPt5sXDqyXMw31SxllmAzNsXKg1rayhmyjE3IPXJS9c5uVKsP/s400/Smashing+Pumpkins+2.JPG"><br/>Corgan was such a Grumplestiltskin, blaming the audience for giving up on the band in the late Nineties before conceding that the musicians also stopped believing in themselves around the same time. He should have left the bad attitude at home, along with the striped T-shirt and long skirt that he first wore some 15 years ago. Chamberlain's bedazzled Polo shirt also left me scratching my head. Out with the old, in with the new!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713789138960530341.post-33730126980505425952014-06-27T12:27:00.000-07:002014-06-27T12:27:00.032-07:00BBQ Banshees<img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhP_O1qSjmmiobNKr2DX24oyuspRKkQP6D482zsJCGuhP9b2O3NtJ_UhYCwP_hxfN8vklsGdj06Ub85xyizZr9EH4Uoajd6AyWvNoeErRzjTrqRrzV9utgfiCaOm_wJALpBeykLyU7ZXLN/s400/Tahoe+Galbi+vent.JPG"><br/>The past week has been blazing hot in Los Angeles. When the temps are fired up, so too should be the grill. Apartment dwellers like me don't have to fret when we don't get an invitation to a house BBQ. Instead, I can mosey over to Koreatown to chow down at any one of the hopping BBQ joints. Though I'm incredibly difficult when it comes to Southern BBQ (childhood memories of yummy BBQ lunches in South Carolina never fade) I'm not a snob when it comes to Korean BBQ. The only requirement I have is that there must be a strong ventilation system. This is the underside of the bell-shaped vent hovering over the grill at Tahoe Galbi on Wilshire Boulevard, where Miguelito and I dropped by for the $16.99 all-you-can-eat deal.<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-gA9Slee4slDTOJNNAxGzljUtBwA0FMQtYtLgBYi9Ohpy9lPNIPatLrPeVku8cwemPcJKyWlpyb0Po-Ard3I0GKdobfjKbDecCPgbLR-EffTSmIilqVVHdsZCIihSvR2nCDYUf4FP0w3k/s400/Tahoe+Galbi+side+1.JPG"><br/>The side dishes were such a treat. The big bowl of lettuce and slivered scallions was an effort to convince you that eating an endless stream of red meat wasn't all that bad for you. My favorite sides are the mung beans marinated in soy sauce and the daikon kimchee.<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjGrQMmzO85KEdzPwoix9ln45z0kO2aaYRD7jm0neIJLw1JzI_bUs6b1_mqfszBrqWB9Rmh8ATVFzIJJ3SExlPGptDWQ-4_lMGSQZPpYFq_quTYLLO3bdZVU_TJmyzuAZ_5uH5g5uYb2n0/s400/Tahoe+Galbi+side+2.JPG"><br/>There was such a plethora of sides that the waitress had to place them on both sides of the grill. I never understood why Korean restaurants like to serve sweet, chunky potato salad. I suppose the mayonnaise helps to cool the tongue after a kimchee heat wave.<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHoTksNa9I71aBVVo16bA7A0gWOCZB-cpZdzW7R4dZA62ntxgSMGBWgZqX6nk178UxsniWjFOg62uALNvvfJzX8oKyG3saeD3jTCWECqBV9o4hyYQ8S80jXa-iO-aJTJ3B1kNRrYjEgviO/s400/Tahoe+Galbi+savory+custard.JPG"><br/>This is a savory egg custard. It tasted like a warm cloud.<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoh6V_SaH0xfCd_cRAlox9qiKYdhelU8q8oZgLVfyCpWLNiMkLCnkn77X254z8FgYsTNgAqNuDvkCnYWYOWt8r7yqSBba2bj6MOPobDK-wWWOrxvTG_PwkPQJfgeNyl5HHA-FvsxJ2stUF/s400/Tahoe+Galbi+soup+1.JPG"><br/>The seafood and tofu soup arrived still boiling. I had to take at least three different shots because the steam kept fogging up my camera's lens.<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7bnybMrxU4lzn6UXZbPIj_iODalKaBj4JRn5WEvyEQBPgZEmluidH2Z5NZD5m-0ZJp-mgOn_BztgmA8KxeRAxZcadFqTdrgKapwc4P5sp9aHM3TTacwRaXEZoWh8U90s_RfnMm_jpGkh8/s400/Tahoe+Galbi+soup+2.JPG"><br/>Look at the crunchy little shrimp! A moment like this makes me glad to sit at the top of the food chain.<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZhXvQ7B1AuGe32nPWLIEToSluPc5jXNohudiH4Fer9WRQiLgNaqAlep8k-B7LErF1dNkmA6twMAFQWjJZs9dVvHJvqDhW9lXm1DhqRAwYYpv3GhAGRKUcU3invZCj90-x64leSz0VRX-k/s400/Tahoe+Galbi+Khanh+grilling.JPG"><br/>I like BBQs that allow you to chow down like a civilized carnivore in a little black dress and gold jewelry.<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXwjAaxxd2QJRU6sovHbMo2jWkdumIqxfHeNWfWGykEoYk-uGuQY2VcY0wjdTH1uOfOumRWzR-A-8TOkqfTDxDCmI_B2GBVMkZoGHjUjUwiPzN0sN08jwKk4ce5dMQwUJy2gXGlSwlxDF8/s400/Tahoe+Galbi+Michael.JPG"><br/>Miguelito calmly waited for the bulgogi, kalbi, chicken, pork strips and bacon to finish cooking. The only meat that we didn't choose from the all-you-can-eat menu was the beef tongue. The next time we go to Tahoe Galbi with a bigger crew, we'll be more adventurous and order it.<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoNVYqSUmHI0v8V3ve1gkYWPFx0YWXR91avn-8MOmpZAAfHR9fESfRrrUeUe-owpYVFDXCcq3yFUz35iCcTrNSXWFIPeG1JIl-58XWnyunE-QfLB1pCRWaFmetYFFMFroZo2CuPUg4HD0C/s400/Soot+Bull+Jeep+summer+eats.JPG"><br/>Some nights later, on a Saturday, I was rolling solo because Miguelito was watching his Minneapolis homeboy Prince rock the crowd at the Coachella Valley Music and Arts Festival. Thanks to Jesse and Grace, who introduced me to Soot Bull Jeep on Eighth Street, I didn't have to dine alone. Unlike Tahoe Galbi and many other Korean BBQ restaurants that use natural gas-fueled grills, Soot Bull Jeep sticks to the old school technique of cooking with actual charcoal. And their grills are more powerful than the compact robatas that are usually offered at the cook-it-yourself Japanese eateries. This is a composite of what to eat in the middle of a heat wave: from left to right, cold sake, salad, sweet dipping sauce for the meat and a clear soup made of daikon and green onions.<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwQ535zSiKiUE96EWtFef-7OLqC5WQPVguifByclqBkFAhLSNhYFzbVYkvQu1dpKaMrT_iRgfXmYb_iIN3QeGSs7wsMPD4_3pq2t0WPrI6LPid6ZuRz8svBQIqfs1d6ywky6adMdL3Ou3h/s400/Soot+Bull+Jeep+embers.JPG"><br/>I don't think the first word in the restaurant's name was referring to the residue left by the hot embers on the grill. Because the owners continuously pack people into the place, they keep refreshing the ashy rocks with new charcoal. They also placed a glass of ice on the table. I was about to ask for two more glasses for each of us in our three-person party to drink at the table, but Jesse said you toss the ice on the grill to cool down the fire.<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHcFBH7_MFWMllEMmcCHLFVsnXAnyRkOG_vTgscV9e05kHGJwAVEOvQgBZHxFkJ-do-EiXFZVOlVBiSCevd_hY4U7-glMRr2BaDRO78HSSq734FEkbjBonaiAz9IYUJtq_zLNG4mN_Tmo4/s400/Soot+Bull+Jeep+kimchee.JPG"><br/>This is where the restaurant stores its stash of kimchee.<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWfKj9SzaVt4XUZKKnsE7CD8o1NvY98THVz_0hc08oMpz1c3EBq2v32olV5naFV3ockFecTBRV3ZVbqAbJFs9C_WGCY1LijctD5uxe4R7tzf4zqjUHPzyvvo7fNev2b5b333fKxddxoW3e/s400/Soot+Bull+Jeep+meat+grill.JPG"><br/>I liked that Soot Bull Jeep offered whole squid, tentacles and all, to splay atop the grill. Though tentacles are one of those culinary appendages that not everybody can stomach, I like them more than chicken feet. It's not the texture or the graphic appearance of chicken feet that I oppose. Rather, it's the poor return on investment, or ROI in bankers' parlance. You gnaw on the chicken feet for so long to get very little sustenance in return. Chicken wings and drumsticks have a better ROI when it comes to the meat on the bone. But with squid tentacles, you can slurp the entire thing in your mouth as if it’s a long strand of spaghetti. I'm not sure how many hours the squid and chicken were marinated, but they cooked to juicy perfection.<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjeXPcoR-n8VdhGOY1fwCm-piT_wrvELkxgE2TtjBPQ_jKKkVQkDTChKp10aO8KP2J4Ymg4pyZvp2H3TjkBF6lqOSn3ZW_I9DW8ciEBtqvlFPBG7M2BNVPRmOYK-rHoAXnkRtLUday4WNm/s400/Soot+Bull+Jeep+meat+cutting.JPG"><br/>Though Jesse flipped the squid, chicken and garlic masterfully as our grillmaster, the waitress took charge in snipping the bounty into bite-size portions with scissors.<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeuHjsQoX7n2bYGGnoupUDYKr8rpZSyQa7YG6bT5_ItRqxudAfpD4VHbUwn8FUXUCW4Hc1ORUSKpbmFzn_9Cq7-3CX9xVC2C5bnV41vWSYZR1XhUIrO8EKOzLbZMUe-jQHnBy1oc40W_TN/s400/Soot+Bull+Jeep+squid.JPG"><br/>This is a piece of squid swimming in the sweet dipping sauce. It must be what whales dream of.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713789138960530341.post-5162246658985477052014-06-27T04:03:00.000-07:002014-06-27T04:03:00.325-07:00More Chocolate and TarLast month, I wrote about my day with chocolate and tar. Tonight, after meeting the designer Valerj Pobega and her artist-husband, Mattia Biagi, at a party feting Raven Kauffman's exquisite handbag collection at Des Kohan, I learned that my glib headline about chocolate and tar holds deeper meaning. Biagi's childhood culinary adventures led to his working with the toxic material as an artist. "When I was a kid, I liked to dip things in chocolate," he explained. After moving to Southern California from Italy five years ago, he also became intrigued with the La Brea Tar Pits, which serve as tangible reminders that Los Angeles wasn't always Tinseltown. "I like the texture" of tar, said Biagi in a lilting Italian accent that belied his intimidating portfolio of tattoo art, including a black star stretched across his throat. If only he stuck with dipping shirts and hats in chocolate, we'd have edible art!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713789138960530341.post-23410468975416667872014-06-26T19:39:00.000-07:002014-06-26T19:39:00.550-07:00Tcho<img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6giDEzAttUBX-ZNAFSVx5aQ6rl0iew09rNInmPWSGe-84lpxh3zV-u2YDkEDxu8jhxt8jQbLx9nceVMERQF6-hJZZj-71nu-5zHFkcyjAyZ5bcpCgiI99Lc3LqTwtc8OU3H8hgDuj0gkn/s400/Tcho.JPG"><br/>Tcho is a Japanese prefix that means "mega," "ultra," or "super." In other words, cho kawaii is translated as super cute, while cho kako ii is ultra good-looking. There's a new line of artisanal chocolates from San Francisco called Tcho. I don't know how the founders derived the name. The packaging is playfully stylish, matching the size and palette of my Comme des Garcons wallet. The bright pinwheel on the back indicates the different flavors: chocolatey, nutty, earthy, floral, fruity, citrus. Thanks to my friend Mai, who is also pictured on the company's Web site, I got samples of nutty and fruity. I had assumed there would be little bits of nuts and fruits, a la Scharffen Berger's cacao nibs. But Tcho's square-shaped chocolate bar was smooth and rich. Very subtle. The percentage of cacao fell just shy of the 70 percentile needed to make it good for you in terms of the concentration of antioxidants. Personally, I prefer my chocolate to have more character and depth. Still, Tcho is the hip, indie rocker equivalent to Hershey's Rolling Stones and Scharffen Berger's Coldplay.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713789138960530341.post-7447867570245793742014-06-26T11:15:00.000-07:002014-06-26T11:15:00.485-07:00Nothing Hokey About Honeycombs<img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixNom5NG5P7gtpLh0LfGR1uaDPv1luVyIKfeaCo6O6dwEsOz2MwuDEB2jw4ndj21uOAnUx1i-bFzKDzpoXcNEhofK6Cfx69V0BCa2TVNBtPNtCYkqdvw3niMfIZOornW83DW97ussO7R63/s400/Honeycomb.JPG">Three years after I moved to Los Angeles from the San Francisco Bay Area, my respiratory system was nearly paralyzed by severe allergies. I couldn't figure out why my ability to breathe was so compromised. One person suggested that I eat some honey so that the pollen present in the sticky sweetness would fortify my immune system. I thought that theory was hokey. Until this past spring, when I not only consumed honey from California, Minnesota and wherever I could find it, but I also traded the breeze blowing through my open car windows for a sterile A/C system that circulated through my air-tight Prius. The precautions I took nullified the sniffles, sneezes and asthmatic wheezing that seized me in past seasons. Taking the next step closer to a holistic diet (I draw the line at wheat grass, however), I began eating raw honeycomb that a far more sophisticated foodie friend gave me as a gift.<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwyPe1Lxe6sk7eVe_WYAvZbPONAtmPHoVeHv0lN1RThPfw2CouzmzGrxrB7EuINdqH__UNF5Zw60goyViwfTh8ZpEbpyFYjlc2U21JfB6YasXN_LnQMN2mYLjZ_mcdGt5CFZzLRJuEEkrj/s400/Honeycomb+dessert.JPG">I baked pre-made puff pastry, topped with a generous serving of freshly whipped cream, plump blueberries and a chunk of honeycomb. Miguelito said it was the best home-made dessert he ever had.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713789138960530341.post-81108418106660822502014-06-26T02:51:00.000-07:002014-06-26T02:51:00.176-07:00California CarbsSometimes you just want to munch on chicken salad and crunchy greens on a sunny afternoon.<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaCNwfbHRFlnD8__itQJoC59GPYruL28u9st3qzprPHnfuWrRTnOPfM4OJdrUsNHTL_8gboLQEDOWMwjisSyeNXgQjASPW1ikJCXlDVovCJUgtwbalLZwxwb6IpoinlZaijqvr5F27l7bs/s200/Aunte+Em+chicken+salad+sand.jpg"><br/>Sometimes you just want to nibble on some German chocolate cake and sip hot tea as the evening cools.<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxcSm-ydXGkszeo-BDnA8u8IhgjeRf3w5Yv_owsghigQ6EpZbRRKA0Y_-KlACiTXl3CGSXATw8np-9bRx0YqJ3NVSKU8sYqqD1HMkcAutQWrxYbJJ43J4FubeAtt1KtjMhauKvrgIaNYVE/s200/Alcove+chai+cake.jpg"><br/>Sometimes you just want to "eat these fools like ciabatta bread." (Props to plucky girl reporter Katy in Princeton, N.J., for alerting me to this genius food tribute!)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713789138960530341.post-79394055943924446962014-06-25T18:27:00.000-07:002014-06-25T18:27:00.067-07:00Foie Gras at Ford's Filling StationFearing a Vietnamese superstition that forbade me from eating duck during the first month of the Western and Eastern new years, I waited until March 7 before I could savor a morsel of foie gras. I broke the fast at dinner with Miguelito at Ford's Filling Station.<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6ogA6y_sTirDJaQEJuuyR6HPpkTi6mxaNMOmIctmfKxZbxfl4xKcl-IFtbIHKIhQPLF1ElKhmLbaIVgVJm2cpZX0kIAWcht30A4QY6zV_tzb094uFPMfmfNwBr0xkxXVCTJ5MTKtMd6XS/s400/Ford's+Filling+Stn+ceiling.JPG"><br/>The namesake chef of the Culver City eatery is Ben Ford, Indiana Jones' son, who, in a nod to his father's manly movies, installed wide skylights and big wooden beams befitting the hearty American bistro.<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTeOM4qyVh2tiBuwSYwUvTiW3FM0zsETQNydCGGSx7WsaKxQOBNxzaujTXWahyphenhyphen8ISNvEBelLRaxYjFRXJsGUm_DyWGl2A22nVyzmC2Rt-9ndsafHdVHPXXM1xw1Nla64nQYVbC_ZJP15Ar/s400/Ford's+Filling+Stn+bread.JPG"><br/>The warm baguette was smeared with crushed garlic and olive oil.<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMWmrGfW6w-QvyYP8Bz-VSt0CbEx0Y0abW9tLqiypvTJpfmf0SEt6ouAwzoIn3IEb8s9mYWH8la4A4lnhr6wnMogwr3iZl3nsDZWaJzaLW5bCT6_uXeGdgpoZgX04l-cHX4EXmKxumSJGN/s400/Ford's+Filling+Stn+drinks.JPG"><br/>Miguelito had a wheat beer branded Hoegaarden while I had an extremely girlie pink lemonade cocktail spiked with vodka.<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin8nQSn3XWoqBMMnusRjxBq5_hWu6-LQgrXWcYyBATrPx6nMzWlZF8XAnv_Huc2fXxasc2djMt_P9ES5y5ZR1ydR5ngl_2LeSi-EZuDF2rqPz0dv5NhZZjs83PXF1Pj3YwFVFe3lKgxat6/s400/Ford's+Filling+Stn+counter.JPG"><br/>Miguelito and I decided to dine in Culver City because the runway shows for L.A. Fashion Week were being held nearby. I promised Miguelito that I would take him to his first runway show, a presentation for a punkish men's line called Elmer Ave. We were so hungry that we wistfully gazed at the food waiting to be delivered from the kitchen<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC3mvifZBx3wnrHoQClKIYNnTTsw0IyU1-F5YesjAS7-fYVWTp_FB0MezoHJUvu4qEXNE-APWYGv6BQWaluIfP4ib9llE9r2ksju5H0HzcYSxLI7jIOWzoSAf-meqwEl6TS-A8KGLz05Q7/s400/Ford's+Filling+Stn+foie+gras.JPG"><br/>This foie gras was worth waiting two months for. Seared to perfection, it was carefully balanced on fluffy French toast guarded by a trio of blood oranges.<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9cPyjoXM0XwcZT6dvU5JtKHQiWuzX55h_Z9hs2_kfqW9NbRUCrb1tpykfdPStO0VCAGbwz73HGac3ZsBpkXjiRS9ph_yrBCqEs9aCmrjOlaYGzY8swWwH4hlBIXXCPJOgdPV4JhP5wl1M/s400/Ford's+Filling+Stn+salad.JPG"><br/>The Bibb lettuce served as a refreshingly light bed for the crushed hard-boiled eggs and bacon.<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdTn-U8WWlNgO7oDtTC5bJuLe4Cdu5SUXkmUWWEr1E5u5S25e1xIaUuDufXSw3_-am0CtW0FnTdcQ7R5P8cJsdiggRNmljVoEcfmc8S2V3y-eemi3JaWt_TGt4LEdrRmUmPOnLXaRCx0W4/s400/Ford's+Filling+Stn+fish.JPG"><br/>Miguelito and I shared the fish and chips. The turbot was dipped in a beer batter. In addition to the French fries, or chips, we were pleasantly surprised by the addition of onion rings, fried asparagus and sweetly pickled carrots to the basket. Afterward, Miguelito and I watched a procession of tricked-out blazers to the ear-shattering tunes by a two-man band called The Devil's Orchestra. There was a reason why the show organizers placed earplugs on all the attendees' chairs.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713789138960530341.post-58554814682018067742014-06-25T10:03:00.000-07:002014-06-25T10:03:00.399-07:00Ooh La L.A. Fashion WeekFashion week is a misnomer because the parties, runway presentations, trunk shows and all-around schmoozefest run for 12 days this month. The workday extends past the 12-hour mark and the waiting in between events would equal enough time required to learn a romance language. You also need the diplomacy skills of a United Nations ambassador and the iron balls of a police detective to track down CEOs, grill them about sales, store expansions and product development in between sips of champagne and remember what they said accurately so that you won't get sued later for libel. But there are perks, such as reuniting with other members of the traveling fashion tribe whom you see twice a year during the seasonal presentations, knowing now what the rest of the world will wear six months later and bonding with ultra-cool co-workers who help blur the line between work and play. There are also the goody bags. Check out the Dr. Peepers sunglasses that I received in a gift bag from one fashion show. <br/><img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4330/169/200/Khanh%20psychedelic%20glasses.jpg"><br/>None of my other three buddies got the glasses, which were packed in a Chinese take-out box filled with a long glass bead necklace and fortune cookies. The shades went perfectly with my red collarless coat and retro silk scarf printed with green blocks (another present from a previous fashion party I attended). I look like the lovechild of an Asian Jackie O and Willie Wonka.<br/><img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4330/169/200/Evisu%20bodywash.jpg"><br/>I also picked up two bottles of bodywash at the show for the beyond-hip Japanese brand called Evisu. You might recognize the abstract seagull drawing that Evisu prints on the back of all its pricey jeans. I always score so many bath and body products, shampoo and conditioner and makeup that I can set up a beauty salon and never have to restock inventory for a couple of months. It's a good thing that I've become girly the past few weeks. In addition to quizzing my friends about the best mascara that won't smudge (Christian Dior), I've been experimenting with eye shadow and deep-conditioning my hair. Soon you will see me smacking my lips in Smashbox's Sassy red lip gloss tinted with a bit of gold (let's set up a pool now to predict how often the media will use the phrase "the gilded age" to describe how gold will be an important accent for next spring). Still, I have only one body and one head. That's why I always try to redistribute the wealth to my pals.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713789138960530341.post-69999645480982183412014-06-25T01:39:00.000-07:002014-06-25T01:39:00.506-07:00Taco Carts: Less Baggage, More FlavorMiguelito and I are on a mission to find a taco cart to cater our wedding this summer. Our short list includes El Galuzo, which is run by the president of La Asociación de Loncheros L.A. Familia Unida de CA, or the association of taco truck owners in Los Angeles.<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6fszICo2y2VFJ20PsNWoySYAsOrN5jiv0SDERcKcRm7sNziXBWiphXx8DpBEV4rfeQqQxpjh7bSXbjVSvqhW30yhN3BzXruPU8ykj7ncRDVzShALRW131qK8lcQtJviZhxc7XcUCugHEW/s400/El+Galuzo+1.JPG">A truck pulled El Galuzo into a lot in front of a warehouse sample sale some weeks ago. I wasn't brave enough to try the beef tongue so I stuck with carne asada and al pastor.<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0X6aHaMJUd83GmkxeX69cOK6qsrHYfoCX02-jTE8zINa87HvXMvBFvNgWnty6hBLithWjH70vANqF9YlREAT_b2I0WE2raBzZ6Db5xb7QmrG4HrzSdhXsr0XjNiRyF5AK5nLFnvM1knT6/s400/El+Galuzo+2.JPG">This was one of the most efficient kitchens on wheels I've ever seen. One side had the hot pot to heat the bubbling pot of meat. On the other, the tortillas were made to order.<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAgsYcgdCA-vh30enweEp15IiBNBdsWuUDPrp8va43Z3YSYkrHGazNY4o5XLCe3vpGM1XpYNmLqVTTewQ_ycxPg6aRhDGPLiQQcYbTs8t4LDeyL8Y1MNrDyeE5-uo8yI4ROx1Bd_3kzbna/s400/El+Galuzo+3.JPG">Smack in the middle stood the cook, in easy reach of all the necessary ingredients.<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyEANo8jo7XMJZ_UwRt5HSCkUeOPb5mS78ACpm3EHcH0R3hGGBYuBJ45gQd4KvXizqYHdfh-he5oxa1HSBcjVcCjtnU1YwmLphyFKbHZ4o6QZe4IsoreXoadyvm-xh8YXewYsyyN4EL9mo/s400/El+Galuzo+4.JPG">A folding table was crowded with the tubs of salsa (avocado, verde and roja), radishes, halved key limes and a chopped medley of cilantro and onions. Plastic forks were also available for those like me who were too prissy to get their hands dirty.<br/><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIyXQ-tZwoA2z7Q5Mn9aOKdTGOOZlaL9jcH6mR-XmkX-dyS1p8B9jFDauHSuYBH41oKyzPeEyvnluzTXL-8Fu-vo49ixQOQnc2vBtcMQmOfDBAxKSoD67BXSkuwPbQMkZkfm0Fue7n5xwo/s400/El+Galuzo+5.JPG">I don't know how I'm going to handle eating a messy taco while wearing a white dress at my wedding reception. Maybe there's a market for fashionable bibs.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0