Disappointed at Comme Ça

I finally got to Comme Ça this weekend. I have been dying to go. DYING, I tell ya. But I was disappointed, which is unusual. I should have done better research. After failing to find out their hours on their home page:

http://www.commecarestaurant.com/

I went to Yelp for the pertinent info:

http://www.yelp.com/biz/comme-ca-los-angeles

Yup, breakfast, lunch and dinner, opening at 8 am and staying open all the way 'til midnight. Their home pages shows breakfast, lunch, dinner and brunch menus, and again I should have done my research to find out they only serve brunch until dinnertime on Saturdays. I am not a big bruncher. I don't love breakfast and most brunch menus are far more breakfasty than lunch. This was so at Comme Ça. Disappointing. I almost left. But, we were already seated, the room is gorgeous and inviting, we were ravenous, and they thoughtfully provided extra red silk cushions on the banquette which is great for short people like me who have a hard time reaching the table when sitting at a banquette.



I started with oysters, as usual whenever possible. These were Fanny Bay and Virginica east coast oysters. The wait person/actor told us both were from the east coast, which I know is wrong, but I don't really care. Both types were delicious, the presentation was lovely (I love some sea weed) and the mignonette was sharp and vinegarey.



I also love looking at barnacles. They are strange creatures.






With nothing much to order that resembled lunch, I ordered the angus burger. It was pretty delicious. Medium rare and cooked perfectly. Medium-rare. Even the mayonnaisey dressing the onions were mixed into was nice. Not a fan of the fries at Comme Ça. They were overcooked, IMO. D switched his nice little green salad for my fries. The lettuce was pretty wilted, but a better choice than the fries. Although the burger was well cooked, I can honestly say that the angus burger at McDonald's is better. Sue me, but the Comme Ça burger is nothing that special.




D ordered a Croque Madame. He had never had one, and it sounded delicious. Again, IMO, the Croque Madame was overcooked. The bread was too dark and the cheese was crispy all over and didn't have that nice meltiness I like with a Croque Madame.



A couple of other fun notes. My rosé was corked, and the waiter/actor handled it in a lovely, unquestioning way. Brought me a new glass post haste. The floor manager came over later to tell me he had tasted the corked glass, and it was indeed corked (really?) and apologized. This was a nice and unnecessary move. I have a pretty sensitive palate, and can always tell when a wine is corked, even if it is just in the beginning stages. But I appreciated the way this was handled. One floor manager at a wine bar in Los Feliz, that will remain nameless, had the audacity to argue with me. He told me that was simply the nature of the wine. Um, no. This did not fly. Point being, they handled the concern well at Comme Ça. In case you don't know, roughly 7-10% os all bottles of wine are corked, and this is never in any way the fault of a restaurant or vineyard.

Also, I wondered who the Asian woman in the corner was. She was receiving much respect and deference from the floor staff. At one point she told a bus person to fix a picture that was slightly tilted, he did so and turned to look at her for approval of his straightening. Her table also ordered several items from the menu, and when the quiche came, she bent her nose about an inch away from the quiche and took a long sniff. Fun to watch the machinations of the staff around her table.




I am interested to try Comme Ça again for dinner. The menu looks more up my alley, and I enjoyed both the service and the atmosphere.

Nod on Eater LA #2: *dances a jig*

I have nothing more to say than what I stated in the title. Please click link, "Some thoughts about the new chef at Blue Velvet". K? Thx. Bai.

http://la.eater.com/archives/2008/08/11/boardwrap_what_makes_a_good_barista.php

Location, Location, Location at Sur, West Hollywood

It is all about atmosphere this weekend during my less than 48 hours home from the SB-472 boot camps. We keep missing hanging out with our friends from Cabo, J & L, by a hair...several times this summer. We all finally got it together last night and met for dinner at Sur in West Hollywood. The menu is rather large and free of gourmet machinations. Simple food, cooked simply. Lots and lots of veggie side dishes to choose from. I like this concept. I do find menu advice is more believably offered from someone who has actually eaten more than rice cakes in the last 3 days. But out-of-work actresses still have to pay their rent, and checking out the beautiful braless stick figures is what Sur offers for tableside entertainment, so it was all good.



The simple food at Sur tasted good, and the company was even better. But what really struck me were the photo ops lurking around every corner and in every cubbyhole. I couldn't wait to see these on the big screen of my 2008 iMac.



Candles and icons, everywhere.



The tables are set beautifully. Shabby chic vases overflow with dahlias, rose petals dramatically litter the table.



I started with corn fritters. Serious comfort food for a serious hangover.



Very corny, these are worthy of not sharing.



D had fried calamari...not complicated, unique or even interesting, but they were cooked perfectly.



The sangria flowed freely.



J ordered the halibut.



L ate a steak with a small pasture of peas.



I am in the midst of a warm salad obsession. It is hard to take a good picture of a warm spinach salad. But it tastes so good, you have to trust me.



I love eating with people who don't mind that I compulsively document every morsel. And pretend not to notice when I am falling asleep at the table. Love ya, L & J! Cannot wait to see you again when the SB-472 dog days are over.

Friends don't let friends drive home drunk from the Ritz...

The Huntington Ritz screams, well politely states, OG Pasadena.



Not a lot of back story here. P went to a party at the Ritz while I was getting drunk and wasting fine French wine at Blue Velvet. She drank too much to drive herself home. Being a wise woman, she left her car and took a taxi home. Being a good friend I picked her up Saturday morning, and what do two smart women do when running such an errand in the Pasadena summertime? They have cocktails and cheeseburgers, natch.



Bleu cheese burgers. Loves.



Pardon me. Do you have any Grey Poupon?



Lilies in the Terrace Cafe...



and hydrangea in the foyer.



This note being left on my plate added an element of humanity to an otherwise too perfect luncheon.



P has been admonished that from now on when she drinks so much that she needs a ride the next morning, nothing less than the Ritz will be acceptable.


P.S. Happy Belated Birthday, P! *muah*

Blue Velvet sans Kris Morningstar: Delicious & Well Managed

John McDowell, Morningstar's sous chef, is now heading the kitchen at Blue Velvet. In my opinion he is heading the kitchen to good effect. It may be my imagination, but it seems as though the food is heartier and a touch less precious. In addition to the wonderful food we ate, an issue with the wine we ordered was handled beautifully and with such politesse that we will surely visit again sometime soon.



I don't understand or really appreciate French wine in the way that I understand New World wines. I have taken classes on Old World wines. I drink French wine on a somewhat regular basis. I have visited France more than once, and I go to wine tastings at a shop that specializes in European wines. Nevertheless, my taste buds out me consistently as a rube. My mouth is accustomed to bold, Oregonian reds & rich California whites. For some reason D decided we needed to try a French pinot Friday night, and it did not sit well with me. This 2005 Chambolle-Musigny was so tart that my face screwed up every time it hit the back of my mouth. My eyes watered. I know an off wine when I taste it, and this was not off. It just did not suit me. The waiter asked if he could decant it, and we agreed, hoping the not inexpensive wine would open up and soften. In the meantime we downed martinis and ate these appies.



I noshed on the above piece of pork belly. As fatty as pork belly is, I don't typically order it. But after watching several contestants from Top Chef have a go at it over the last few seasons, I was intrigued. And it was good. Very good. It was served with sour cherries with a cherry glaze drizzled on the plate, and accompanied by the short seasoned and much loved squash blossom, lightly fried.



D has come to love frisee au lardons, or anything mimicking that, this summer. This particular version used pea tendrils as the green, and it was a lovely rendition.



About this time the waiter swings by and we try the decanted and oxygenated 2005 Chambolle-Musigny yet again. I pull a sour puss. We assure the waiter that there is nothing wrong with the wine, rather there is something wrong with us, and we will happily pay for it, but we really need to drink a different bottle of something else. He sends the manager our way, and the manager offers to bring us something different and eat the cost of the offending wine. We assure him this is not necessary, but he convinces us in such a lovely way that I left feeling both very pampered and very drunk. Goldilocks ended up with the above Oregonian pinot noir and it tasted just right.



Goldilocks also ate the above guinea hen, wrapped around caper berries then wrapped in what I believe was its own skin, served with long beans and a variety of mushrooms. The menu mentioned a cream sauce, but knowing how sparely sauces are used in this kitchen I ordered it anyway, and I guessed correctly. There was just a trace of cream sauce to accent the mushrooms rather than drowning the bird.



D predictably ordered the scallops from the prix fixe menu. I didn't taste the shellfish, but I sampled what looked like vermicelli on his plate. It was actually some sort of radish type veg cut to mimic pasta, it tasted wonderful and added a lovely acidity to the dish.

After martinis and red wine, on a much needed Friday night...

5 More Nights in Bakerfield: Night #2, continued

After TJ Maxwell's, we headed to The Bistro, a restaurant in the Four Points Sheraton hotel on the west side of town. I am wary of mid-level hotel restaurants. I just am. But Peter says the chef here informs his cooking with contemporary cooking methods (molecular gastronomy, anyone? Hanging with Herve This and Ferran Adria? I think not.) However, the menu is seasonal and it had literally changed the day prior to our arrival at the bar on Night #2. One item we ate was strange, and strangely kinda good.. The other item was just plain delicious.



First up were tempura'd artichoke hearts, in a honey sauce, with cream cheese. This sounds disgusting, actually, but I put my trust in Peter, the man who finds PF Changs to be fine dining. I was throwing caution into a strong leeward wind.



I don't know what the batter was around these artichoke hearts. It tasted ok, but it was thick and heavy although not overly fried. I only tasted it. But the honey sauce and the chokes themselves were just lovely. there was very little cream cheese, just enough for a hint which was pleasing. Enjoyable.



Next up was grilled salmon in an heirloom tomato sauce veirge served over an artichoke cake. This was amazing. I haven't had a better dish in I don't know how long. The fatty fish balanced the acidity of the heirloom tomatoes perfectly. The artichoke cake was mostly artichoke heart, with just a tiny bit of breading to hold it together, all served atop a bed of ever so slightly wilted watercress. I am salivating just thinking about it. This was fantastic.



D ended the evening smoking a stogie he had purchased at a downtown cigar bar. Bakersfield is a last bastion of civility in the sense that the patrons at the cigar bar are allowed to enjoy both their bar and their cigar simultaneously. Drinking and smoking. The way cigars are meant to be enjoyed. But, it was late and I rise early so he settled for smoking it on the balcony of my hotel room whilst talking on his cell phone. Tres romantique.

5 More Nights in Bakerfield: Night #2

I have been in touch with Peter Tittl, the food critic for one of the local Bakersfield newspapers. It turns out that he has a website he refers people to (who doesn't?) that lists his top ten restaurants in several categories. I used the fine dining category to inform some of my eating this week, although fine dining is a questionable category, either due to his personal taste or due to a lack of fine establishments in Bakersfield. PF Changs is on the fine dining list.

This night we made two stops. We started at the oldest restaurant in town, TJ Maxwell's. I'll qualify that by adding that the space has been a restaurant for a very long time. Since just prior to the 1900's, if I remember correctly. It used to be a bar called The Office, where literature on the menu states that men could call home from and in a completely honest way say they were still at the office. Ha ha. Later, it became a locale for gambling, and in one raid the mayor and the police chief were both brought in during the round up. Ha ha (really, that time). The architecture of the bar is beautiful and supports the imagination in visualizing just such an event.



I love these bar stools. Unsure what era these arrived in the building, but they are almost too perfect.



The menu relied heavily on creamy sauces, beurre blancs, alfredos, brown butters and so on. So we drank lovely little martinis and shared a wonderful sesame seared ahi appetizer before we went on out merry way. This was truly one of the better seared ahi dishes I have eaten. Heavily crusted in roast sesame, cooked firmly on the outside with that bright pink on the inside. If I come to Bakersfield again, I wouldn't be against ordering that as an entree portion.

5 More Nights in Bakerfield: Night #1

During this infinitely long summer of training, the waist band of all my pants and skirts are getting a little tighter. Unfortunately, this is not due to wonderful, exotic, interesting new kinds of food and different locales, or even a decent taco truck. This is all due to mediocre sandwiches, deep pit meat, and the array of cookies and cakes and pastries sent out to appease the trained. The trainee happens to be collateral damage. The trained are subject to all this thinly veiled junk food for one week. I am now starting week four.

So, my wonderful husband sent my off from Los Angeles with an ice chest full of healthy goodies. Good white wine, enough grapes to last a week or execute wine making in my hotel room, chicken sausages, cherries, ak-mak crackers and tztaziki. Yay!


Last night for supper I ordered from the "light and healthy" menu, a 300 calorie poached salmon with greens and roasted beets. The salmon was perfection, the greens were disastrously over-dressed, but the beets were superb. I was so exhausted that one small glass of wine sent me over the edge into sleep, blissful sleep.

Further Adventures in Little Tokyo: Izakaya Haru Ulala

This wee izakaya stands at the corner of 2nd and Central, across the street from Honda Plaza. All good things live at this intersection, in my opinion. Sushi Gen, Bar C, American Apparel, Ka Gai Ya and even a Subway franchise. One block to the west stands a Pink Berry and the lovely little clothing and trend store Pop Killer. I noticed last night that another such store has opened. I am going to have to explore that one next time we are in the hood.



Haru Ulala aren't fancy. The menu is written in crayon with delightful little drawings and, by the end of the evening, lots of greasy happy fingerprints.



The specials tend to run out of by the end of the night, but there are so many great small dishes on the menu that there is more than enough to keep a smile on everyone's face. And there is always more than enough food at the table. How do we consistently manage to over order? Our over ordering sent J home in a food coma, and he stopped eating after only the second course. NOOB!



They offer small bottles of Sayuri unfiltered sake. My holy grail sake.



With the first round of food came sushi and some vegetables. The sushi is pretty standard stuff. I didn't actually eat any of the maki last night. I was waiting for the small plates of meats and whatnot. But the boys dug in like malnourished vultures.







Rounds of fried shishito peppers with fish flakes arrived. These are small and spicy.



We noshed on roasted eggplant in a miso glaze. I really love the blackened bits around the edges.



Out strolls the short rib with daikon in broth. My fave izikaya dish. I love the way Haru Ulala makes this, specifically the way they slice the daikon so everyone can have a hearty broth soaked slice instead of ripping one large chunk to shreds.



The following mystery dish is not on the menu. I am not sure what all is in there, but I can give you a few ingredients. There is egg, there are shrimps. Some onion. And some other things too, all drizzled with a slightly bitter glaze resembling teriyaki sauce. The top is then liberally sprinkled with fish flakes so light they sway in the convection currents caused by the heat around the dish. This swaying of fish flakes deeply disturbed J. He left soon afterward. Done in by fish flakes. They sadly waved goodbye.



I can never, ever resist soft shell crab. We shared a couple plates. These were huge specimens. Honestly, they were battered a little too heavily and fried a little too long. By this time I might have been a little tipsy. I ate some anyway.



The aftermath.



We ended up at Haru Ulala as an alternative to the mind numbing dance music at Home. Mind, there was definitely some Japanese club-esque electonica happening in the background. However, it was a) background and b) Japanese and added to the experience rather than preventing it.