Day 11: Imagine

Tenno Sushi is a little Japanese restaurant on South Central Avenue in LA's Little Tokyo that's popular with career people during weekday lunch hour. When I was there, I spotted two female police officers, a Korean couple and middle-aged business men in dark suits. The menu is heavily Korean-influenced. Even the waiters and sushi makers behind the counter were Korean. They all wore traditional Japanese kimonos. No wonder the lunch special dolsot udon ($6.95) was so delicious -- along with the shrimp tempura, the dish included a plentiful array of healthy ingredients, such as oyster, enoki mushrooms, corn, jujube, walnuts, chestnuts, seaweed, seatangle (konbu) and fishcake. Tenno, which means 'Emperor of Japan' in Japanese, certainly made me feel like a queen with all the textures floating around in my mouth.



The Kid ordered teriyaki chicken with furikake on rice, potato salad and orange (not sure what the red thing is -- beets?). While the chicken was only so-so, the ginger salad dressing had a nice tart kick to it.



My aunt is happily slurping down her dolsot udon soup. Tenno also has a full bar and sushi menu. The crab rolls were especially good.



Next to the men's restroom, John Lennon's famous mug adorned the "Employees Only" office. I was reminded of the weight of his lyrics:

Imagine all the people
Sharing all the world...

You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will live as one

I hope one day the state of the world will echo Mr. Lennon's words. Dreams are not just dreams, if you are willing to work towards a reality. And I imagine all the people sharing all the good eats, from Persia to the Philippines, India to Ireland. Let's unite!

Day 10: A bit of Pleasantville in Pasadena

Fair Oaks Pharmacy Soda Fountain, which opened in 1915, is a real old-school soda fountain and pharmacy in Old Town Pasadena that also sells gifts, old-fashioned toys and my friend, Curious George. You can order all manner of malts, floats, shakes and sundaes. Since I was banned to a 24-hour liquid diet following my choking episode (see previous entry), I got the Hand-dipped Banana Milkshake ($4.95). Nothing's better than a shake made with REAL fruit (in this case, real bananas). Even Curious George would approve.

Background, from l-r: banana split, seasoned salt fries, hot fudge brownie with vanilla ice cream.



A generous serving of Neopolitan ice cream accompanied the banana split, down to the cherry on top. Six scoops of ice cream is more than enough for pint-sized customers.



Young people enjoying their sundaes. I wish I had a close-up of the fudge -- it oozed down the vintage cups. Next time, I want to try the Lime Rickey or the Root Beer Float.



Strolling down Old Town Pasadena. The Metro bus stops by periodically to drop off and pick up commuters. Notice how the bus matches the LA Weekly newsstand in front of it.

I scream,
You scream,
We ALL scream for ice cream!

Day 10: The Art of Choking

There are some things you think will never happen to you. There's skinning your knee, slipping in the bath tub and stapling your finger (all of which, sadly, I have experienced). And then there's choking. Most folks don't think much of it. Maybe you were eating too fast, didn't chew properly and the food got stuck temporarily.

Or it may get trapped in your windpipe. In which case, the Heimlich maneuver comes into play.



But let's backtrack: Sunny day, clear skies, Downtown LA at 10:30 a.m. We roll into Ctown for some Vietnamese sandwiches and freshly-squeezed orange juice, both of which were a mere 2 dollars each. A Latino husband-wife team sold the orange juice in a parking lot. Manning a shaded vending booth, the man squeezed the oranges in the fruit juicer as the woman poured the contents into plastic cups. Behind the booth was their faded blue pickup truck, where hundreds of bright oranges peeked out from barrels. This OJ is the real deal. The flavor of oranges, and oranges alone. Nothing artificial here.



In the car, we munched hungrily on Banh Mi Dat Biet, a hearty Vietnamese sandwich made of assorted sliced meat, daikon, cilantro and carrot on a crusty French loaf. However, when the car lurched forward, so did the carrot, lodging itself in the back of my throat. Alarmed, I grabbed my water bottle and guzzled it like there was no tomorrow. I thought it would go away.



But it didn't. A constricting sensation was cutting off my air supply as I gulped for breath. Oh, to breathe! My uncle, sensing my situation, quickly drove me to the nearest hospital (first picture). Fortunately, Huntington Hospital was nearby. After waiting something like an hour, I finally got checked out. It turns out that the carrot had scratched my esophagus, causing me discomfort even though it had gone down my throat. So, after all, I didn't need the Heimlich, but that was my first visit to the ER. And on vacation. I'm just that lucky.



Back on the road again, my little nephew cautioned me, "Auntie Sarah, don't eat the carrots, okay? O-kayyyy?" Don't worry, kiddo, I'm not going to do anything rash this time around.

Lesson of the day #1: Don't eat while the car is in motion.

Lesson of the day #2: Always bring your up-to-date medical information with you when traveling. You never know what calamity might befall you...erm, yeah.

That sandwich sure was tasty, though.

Day 9: I'm Mellllllllllting!

Well, I'm no Wicked Witch of the West. I narrowly missed the rain, but you can see from the picture above that a storm is a-brewing. Not that it matters when you're spending the afternoon in The Mall.

Yes, The Mall: that towering parthenon of middle-class suburbia. This one was the Westfield Topanga in Canoga Park, a higher-class shopping center with squeaky clean marble-like floors, a dizzying array of food court eats, from Mediterranean to Japanese, and consumers clad in sharp heels, slouchy Balenciaga bags and pop art graphic Ts.



Look what I found! Melt Gelato & Crepe Cafe. Now, we have Melt Gelato in both Boston and New York, but they're hard to come by. It took me an hour and a half by the Red Line T to get to the Braintree location in Boston, and there's only one Melt Gelato in Manhattan -- compared to the 17 locations in California. In any case, I'm a fan of the airy, whipped-rich texture of gelato. I like browsing Boston's North End and Manhattan's Little Italy for a classic Stracciatella (Vanilla Chocolate Chip) or nutty Nocciola (Hazelnut).

While Melt's Tiramisu and Strawberry Cheesecake are also quite good, when I'm looking for something fruity and light, I opt for the Fresh Mango or Pomegranate. This time I tried the Fresh Red Raspberry Sorbet, and it really tasted like fresh, seedy raspberries -- no gimmicks. I can also vouch for the crepes and paninis. Try the Strawberry Royale crepe (fresh strawberries, bananas, nuts, chocolate or nutella) and the Tuscan panini (pesto, grilled chicken, provolone cheese, red peppers).

In fact, since tomorrow's Valentine's Day, why not take your date out for gelato and crepes? I'm not a big proponent of the mass commercialization of holidays, but if food is indeed the way to the heart, then by all means -- do not starve your lover!



Last summer, I even filled out a Melt Gelato application on the spur of the moment. At the time, I had dreams of moving out to San Francisco and working at the gelateria while interning at an arts & culture publication. While those plans didn't pan out, I found the questions on the application both thought-provoking and light-hearted -- not your average run-of-the-mill variety.

"Smiling is good for me because..."

"I love to perform for a crowd because..."

"I should be in the movies because..."


...You know, because I'm a rockstar.

Day 8: When In Doubt, Go For the Spam

Sunday, I wandered the streets of Chinatown. This is one mural I found. It may be hard to see what the people in the picture are doing but on the right-hand side, a man is sitting down for a meal over a traditional glass tray table. The ladies around him are entertainers (probably similar to geishas in Japanese culture). On the left, men and women are drinking tea, playing traditional instruments and engaging in a game of go, which is popular with the Japanese but first originated with the Chinese in 2000 BC.



At Sam Woo Cafe, the glossy menu offered options aplenty, but I went for spam and rice. The soy sauce was an unnecessary addition, in my opinion, since the spam was salty enough as is. However, the rice soaked up any lurking saltiness. I ordered a red bean milkshake to wash it down. The day before, I filled up on some spam musubi at L&L Hawaiian Barbecue in Santa Monica. Two big portions of Japanese rice and seasoned spam wrapped in nori ($2.95) was more than enough for a snack. Oh yes, my spam fix was satiated.



It happened to be the Lantern Festival and the lion dance paraded around town, dancing into every retail store in Chinatown. An entourage of gongs, cymbals and local Chinese association members in black logo jackets followed closely on the lion's heels. The sharp -BAM!- of the firecrackers made my already deaf ears even more hard of hearing, and I couldn't shake the notion that it sounded like gunshots. (Henry, this one's for you.)



I met up with more relatives for dinner at Mountain Valley's Claim Jumper, where I had the Whiskey Chicken (which is actually a sweet, tangy apple glazed sauce over stuffing, mashed potatoes, biscuit and roasted vegetables). I prefer my vegetables a bit more cooked, but at least the crunchiness gave my teeth some exercise. The combination of three carbs on my plate translated into a doggy bag pile of leftovers. I love me some comfort food.



My uncle ordered the prime rib steak. Just take a look at that gargantuan baked potato smoldering with sour cream and chives. Now that's a baked potato done right!

What the Fuzz: Kogi BBQ

Kogi! Kogi! Kogi! Okay, so the term 'Kogi BBQ' has been hitting me left and right ever since I've been in LA. I've run into Kogi at least three times in the past week and I'm wondering what all the fuss is about. First, I read about it in the Jan. 30-Feb. 5 edition of LAWeekly while browsing the publication aimlessly in Japantown, and again in the LATimes. My third run-in with Kogi was on a link to this blog.

Though I have yet to try it, Kogi is a traveling taco truck bringing Korean-style marinated meat tacos to the public. It was the brainchild of Mark Manguera, who is of Filipino descent but married into a Korean family. Manguera was munching on tacos one day when it hit him that Korean meat would taste delicious with tacos. Most people would leave the idea at that -- a fanciful rumination. Not so Manguera, who decided to make his dream a reality last November. He recruited his sister-in-law, Alice Shin, who is in charge of much of the PR and Twitter updates; wife Caroline (second-in-command); former Rocksugar chef Roy Choi, who works his culinary prowess in the kitchen; brother-in-law Eric Shin, designated cameraman; and friend Mike Prasad, who helps with publicity.



The tacos come in flavors like Korean short ribs, spicy pork and spicy bbq chicken. For non-meat eaters, there's a Venice Beach vegan black sesame seed jelly special (ooopf, that was a mouthful). Even better, the tacos only cost two dollars each -- great for lunch on the go or a late midnight snack.



Kogi has attracted a large following: people have waited in line for up to two hours just to take home a half dozen tacos.



Singer-songwriter Big Phony even got some props when he created a Kogi jingle of his own. The lyrics go:

I'll follow you down
All over town
Do anything to get there.
Where do we go?
Somebody knows
Jump in the car to get there.
(In Korean:) Koooogi ahjeushi, eodineun gahneunyah?
Mogoshipdah (...mo go ship DAH)

By the way, the still above is not of Big Phony but is from his music video, "Girls Like You Don't Go For Guys Like Me." I've been tuned into Big Phony since 2005 or so, and got to interview him for Boston Progress Radio. He's quite a character -- talented, for sure, with lots of offbeat humor to boot. His dislike for photographs has led to some interesting t-shirt designs. In any case, check out his songs and blog here.

Day 7: WANTED: Carnivores

Southern California has several chain restaurants that cater to the southwestern palette. One of them is Stonefire Grill. Most people come here for the meat, and with good reason. Try the the lemon garlic chicken, mesquite grilled ribs or pepper garlic tri tips, all of which are tender and perfectly marinated with herbs and spices that make your tongue sing (if it could). Stonefire Grill also offers a variety of fresh salads, soft breadsticks and thick, cheesy slices of pizza.



Carnage (there was more on the plate when it was first served).



After a winsome day at Venice Beach, we drove around La Cienega Blvd in the dusk, hoping to spot an Indian restaurant. In the end, we came across Versailles Cuban. Now, I've had my share of Jamaican, Dominican and Puerto Rican food, but I've never tried Cuban before. Parking was hard to come by, but the clink and clatter of dishes and the chatty patrons hungrily devouring their meaty entrees drew my eye in from the get-go. I knew this was going to be worth the wait. The friendly host, a dark-haired Cuban in his mid-late 20s with two gold fillings and a ponytail, winked at me and showed us to our table.

Above, one of the few vegetarian combos: Aaron, frijoles negros y platanos (rice, black beans and fried sweet plantains) - $8.95



My dish: Famoso pollo Versailles (Versailles Famous Garlic Chicken) - $10.95. The menu's description reads: "Juicy roasted half chicken marinated in our delicious garlic sauce garnished with sliced white onions," which pretty much sums up its actual taste. I was far from disappointed. And I've never seen such a large portion of chicken in my life! It was so big that I had to take home the entire breast. My head was reeling with fantasies of squawking chickens being chased by the butcher, then plunged, head-less, into a vat of simmering garlic and butter (although I tried not to think of this scene when I was eating the chicken).



Here's my moro, or white rice with black beans cooked together. I was first introduced to moro in the Dominican Republic last March when my family took a vacation there during spring break. Versailles makes it differently from the Mom & Pop restaurant in Luperon Bay, D.R. Nevertheless, it's a hearty and texture-rich dish -- if a bit on the crispy side.

One thing's for sure: California does not lack in the meat department. My carnivore friends, I urge you to take a trip out to LA and see (taste and smell) for yourself that I am speaking the truth.