The Tasting Kitchen, Take 2

Remember when I wrote about the Tasting Kitchen waaaay back in one of my very early posts?  And I told you about how we let the waiter pick out our whole meal, and about how the food was so good and it was such a great date place?

Well.  I was right.  You should believe me.

Brian and I went back again as a sort of [really] belated 2nd anniversary dinner.  We did the same thing where we let the waitress design our meal, which, I have decided, is truly the best way to dine.  The whole eating out experience feels so much more luxurious when someone else makes all the decisions for you!  Someone who actually knows what goes on back there in the kitchen!  It's like a mini brain vacation.

Anyway, I'll keep it short because I already told you all about the place last time, but let me just say:  ORDER THE PASTA WITH VEAL AND OLIVE PESTO.

Thank me later.

Dana + Michael Come to L.A.

My Outlook calendar for December looks something like this:  friends-friends-friends/San Francisco/holiday party/San Francisco/holiday party/friends-friends-friends/San Francisco/2013!

 

It's pretty rad.

 

The December-Bender kicked off last weekend with a visit from our friends Dana and Michael.

 

The cutest!

 

And they're the smartest too.

 

(Have I told you I have great friends?)

 

Anyway.  I always have fun showing people around LA, even though I don't really feel like it's "my city" yet (even after almost 2 years...I know, I'm working on it).  It was drizzly and gray for most of the weekend, but we still spent most of Saturday outside, wandering around Venice.  To be honest, I was the only one who minded the rain...my giant red umbrella and I were pretty pathetic.

 

I didn't bring my camera because I was distracted by my hangover and did I mention the rain?  My brain can only handle so much.  But of course I documented it on instagram, duh.  In case you still aren't following me (I mean, how could you not want to look at these pictures), I will do you the favor of reposting some of my 'grams here. 

 

You're welcome.

 

{I see brick and I think take-my-picture-in-front-of-it-right-now.  Thank god I don't live in Philadelphia.}

 

{a good way to start any day}

 

 {new favorite store on Abbott Kinney -- I'm pretty sure this duffle would complete me}

 

 {canals in the rain}

 

And one of us Dana took with her real camera (oh yeah, cameras):

Not pictured:  our delicious (minus the weird rabini salad) lunch at Gjelina to-go.  It's worth eating off the dirty crates they put outside on the street instead of tables (oh Venice...).
 

Friday Night Date

I've been feeling a little down on LA lately, but Friday night was one of those nights that reminded me just why I decided to move here in the first place.

I had no expectations going into this Friday.  I had resigned myself to maybe a dinner out and some tivo.  But then I came across a blurb on the LAist about this Surf & Skate auction at Bergamot Station -- the first in the Venice Art Walk & Auctions series.  Interesting, I thought.  We would definitely be the square-est people there, assuming there were people there, which there might not be, and that would just be awk.  And it could definitely get weird; I mean, it's an art thing, and it involves Venice.  But.  Imagine the people watching.  Maybe Tree Man will show up.  So much potential there....

So we went.  And it was awesome.

The show and auction took place at Track 16, one of the galleries at Bergamot Station (the largest group of art galleries on the West Side).  All the displayed boards were designed and created by local artists, and most of them were really reasonably priced (many of them went for around $100-200).  They also had a 50's-style diner car inside the gallery for all your PBR-drinking needs, and a DJ playing weird electronica.  Totally set the scene.

After perusing all the people art, and having a drink in the diner car, we took a food-truck break.  (Obviously there were food trucks.  Did you really expect that guy in the cheetah-skull jean jacket to eat food off of a real plate?)  We went with the Lobsta Truck because Brian had read a rave review on Urban Daddy, and let me just tell you, YOU NEED TO FIND THIS TRUCK NOW.  Seriously.  It's worth creating a Twitter account just to track the whereabouts of this truck so that you, too, can experience the sweet, sweet buttery joy of the Lobsta Truck lobster roll.  We went back and gave them a giant tip after we finished our roll because it was just that good.

And then when the auction ended, we went home and drank wine along with Anthony Bourdain while he drunkenly stumbled through some other third-world country, as he does.  

How's that for date night?

Thursday Night at Zinque

I had the best conversation I've had in a while last night.  With a French bartender.  He's from St. Tropez, but he lived in London for 17 years before moving here 2 years ago.  He's been married for 18 months to an English woman.  She had a really great PR job in London but then one day, sick of the gray skies, he said "eh, let's move," (as you do when you're a French guy), and now she carves stone in a studio off of Abbot Kinney.

She begged him to move to San Francisco.  They love the Mission.  Love the city.  Love love love would-move-there-but-for-the-weather love.  I said, me too.  Me too.

He told me they don't like LA like they like San Francisco.  That people here are so "superficial" [insert puckered lips and Euro hand gesture indicating fake boobs here].  They don't have kids, and his wife doesn't like how all the women her age strut around in their Lululemon pants with their expensive strollers and their platinum-princess-cut yellow-diamond rings.  He snatched a votive candle off the bar and waved it around between his middle finger and ring finger for effect.  I wanted to high-five him but I'm pretty sure the French don't do that.

He recommends the Salmon and the pate.

We'll be back.

Oscar's Cerveteca/Take 2

Remember when I said Oscar's was...disappointing?  Well, after some controversy in the comments section, and a personal invite from Oscar himself to give the place a second shot (I'm kind of a big deal around here...jk), I made it back to Oscar's last Saturday.  I walked over with Brian and Leslie (that friend of mine who just moved to L.A.), figuring that if the food still left much to be desired, we could always go across the street to the mysterious Mexican place that looks like a liquor store but could really be a sketchily delicious meal waiting to happen.

But there was no need to venture anywhere this time.  Things have changed at Oscar's -- fewer iPod Touches, better food.

First change -- they have these little fold-up tables on the inside now so when you wait, you can at least have a place to put your drink now.  Oh yeah, they have those now, too -- drinks.  Wine and beer, hooray!  So that's a second change.

{beer!  and chicken empanadas that really were just vehicles for that unreal mayo}

Third change -- the menu.  Some items are the same, like the Southern burger (we didn't order that one again), but there are some new additions that turned out to be really tasty, like beer-battered shrimp with a citrus butter sauce.  So butter-drippingly good that it comes with a towelette, and you'll need it!

Last time, I thought the fish tacos were bland and underwhelming.  But this time, the pork tacos were so flavorful, soaked in a spicy, tangy sauce.

And the corn on the cob smothered in butter, chili powder and parm?  That smile says it all.

It was truly a fab dinner.

Hats off to you, Oscar's, for changing my mind!  I'll be back again soon!

First Fridays (Two Fridays Ago)

For those of you who don't live in L.A., First Fridays is an event on the first Friday of the summer months where all the stores and art galleries on this main street in Venice (Abbott Kinney) stay open late and food trucks flood the streets.  It's like a frat party for 20-somethings who like to pretend that they're really there for the art.  I kind of love it (except for the part where the streets get too crowded for my claustrophobic self...but before that, I love it).

Just a few snaps from the galleries we peeped in:

Collages using wheatpaste from the Faile Artist Collective, aka artists Patrick McNeil and Patrick Miller out of Brooklyn.

 {I feel awful but I lost the flyer I had picked up with this artist's name on it.  If you recognize his/her work, give me a shout!}

And in case you were overwhelmed by all that culture...

{This time around we had pork buns at the Flying Pig food truck, but there's always a next time.}

Something for everyone here in L.A.

Happy Friday!

Tasting Kitchen

I went to the Tasting Kitchen with Brian a few weeks ago (before I started this blog), but this place definitely deserves a post. It's seriously good. So seriously good that you should seriously go make a reservation like now.

First of all, it's in Venice on Abbot Kinney, and we all know how I feel about Venice.

Second of all, it was on Joanna's list of places she went when she visited L.A.  And I love Joanna, whether or not she knows it.

Third of all, it's got that whole trendy-but-not-stuffy vibe to it - my favorite of all restaurant vibes - complete with simple decor, dim candle lighting, and of course, trees growing inside.  Also a favorite of mine.

And most importantly, the food is damn good.  Since Brian and I eat everything (and eagerly), and we were feeling especially celebratory, we decided to let the waiter choose for us.  So we asked him to bring us what he thought was the best appetizer, the best pasta, the best entree, and the best dessert.  Best.  Decision.  Ever.

We started out with an appetizer of prosciutto and mozz (burrata if you prefer).  Now, Brian and I are experienced in the worlds of both prosciuttos and mozzes, having spent a few months living in Florence (in Brian's case, right next to the Mercato Centrale), and having consumed countless prosciutto panini while there.  We even had a cheese guy and a meat guy.  Our meat guy one time gave us bowls as a present.  That happened. 

Either way, this mozz and prosciutto was the best we'd had in the States.  So good that we asked where it came from, and our (awesome) server came back with the sources scribbled on a scrap of paper.  Not like I would actually order my prosciutto from Iowa, but it was a nice gesture anyway. 

Then we had the bucatini alla amatriciana.  Long tubes of pasta with a sauce and panchetta.  Hefty, salty, savory.  Just how I like my pasta.  Then the heavier start was perfectly balanced by the whole Branzino we had as our entree. Soft, mild and buttery.  Our server's choices were spot on.

Bottom line: Take your date here.  Now.  It's not going to blow your mind with crazy flavor combinations, but it will serve up solid Italian cuisine in a trendy/romantic California atmosphere.  And the servers are knowledgable and helpful.  This is a damn good date place.

Two Nights in Venice

Have I ever told you about the first night I spent in L.A. when I arrived here last summer? No?! Well. It was me, Brian, one of Brian's friends from college who lives in the area and his girlfriend. It started innocently enough with dinner at the Library Alehouse in Santa Monica, but then we decided to go out in Venice.  So we were driving, in what is probably the only white pick up truck (or any pick up truck) registered in L.A. county, and who should we come by but Tree Man.  Yes, the Tree Man of Venice folkloric fame.  So of course, we stopped the car in the middle of the road, jumped out, and ran after him; and of course, we invited him to get in the back of our truck.  And of course he did.  So off we drove with Tree Man's 10-foot stilts happily dangling over the edge of the truck bed.  We chilled with Tree Man for a while (his real name is Lantis), scaring people and having some drinks (he doesn't drink, though, so it was just us), and ended up back in Santa Monica at the bar in the lobby of the Shangri-la, a fancy establishment where we were supposedly waiting for our chance to go up to the rooftop bar (but let's face it, they were never gonna let us up there with a twing-covered giant in tow).  So.  Drinking with Tree Man at the Shangri-la, and then who should we come upon but another giant -- Brian Zoubek.  Yes, Brian Zoubek of Cameron Indoor fame.  Three of us in attendance being Duke graduates, you can imagine the starstruck excitement that ensued.  I think I told him I loved him...I think he waived back.  Probably the strangest night of my life.

{Tree Man via L.A. Magazine}


Last night I went back to Venice, but this time was a little more normal, yet no less exceptional.  While there were no giants involved, there was wine, and maybe a bacon-wrapped-bleu-cheese-stuffed date or two, at Venice Beach Wines.  We had driven past this place a few times, but it's unmarked (which only makes you want to go more, right?!) and we had no idea if it was a restaurant, bar, gallery, whorehouse?  So of course we wanted to go.  When we walked over there last night (yes, you can walk places in LA), we were surprised to find a gem of a wine shop/bar.  The lighting was trendily dim, it had warm and cozy screened-in outdoor seating, a lively atmosphere (it was packed!), and there was a table made out of a tree stump.  If you know me, you know how much I love tree stump tables.  So we played it cool of course - "did I say dinner?  I meant wine" - and ordered some drinks (I had a really good glass of gruner) and small plates (I wasn't joking about the bacon-wrapped-bleu-cheese-stuffed dates).  Delish.  So, basically, it was my perfect hang out spot and I'm going to go there always until I get sick of it.

After that, things got a little weird, in true Venice fashion.  We were hungry and the Mexican place on Rose that looked just sketchy enough was closed (it was only 9:30! Geez.), so we somehow ended up at The Firehouse.  This is a sushi/burger joint in an old firehouse.  For reals.  It was ok, but mostly I was just confused and wished I had some more bacon-wrapped goodies.  So then we decided to head home but not before a detour at the World Cafe for a predictably overly-sweet mojito and a predictably drunker-than-us crowd.  The perfect amount of comfortable familiarity to balance out the Venice.

My point: Venice never ceases to surprise me.  Which means I'm kind of addicted to it.