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Last Thursday, Kelsey, of PR firm Wagstaff Worldwide, was subjected to an entire evening at Il Sole with Diana, Sarah, Sook, and me. While she did intend to organize a food blogger dinner, I don’t think she ever anticipated us bullying our way into an exclusive dinner for just the four of us. Ha, we’re sneaky like that. Or maybe we’re just co-dependent.
Il Sole is relatively small, but not in a La Buca pre-expansion sort of way. It’s intimate, cozy, romantic. Like I told my dinner partners that night, it reminds me of one of those places I can only afford going with my parents, you know, like Europe. But then once you’re there it’s so romantic that you wish your parents would beat it so you could sneak Andrés, the Spaniard you met when you broke off to smoke in a park, into your fancy hotel room. Actually, that’s not what I said to my dinner partners at all now that I think about it. Basically, take a date, not your parents.
Here’s their shot of the interior, but it was definitely more dimly lit when we were there:
Because of the intimate atmosphere, and the restaurant’s generally over-photographed celebrity clientele, we were asked to take our photos sans flash so as not to be super obnoxious and ruin any meals/chances of sealing the deal with Andrés.
What I’m trying to tell you is, my pictures suck.
We had bread with olive oil and peppers to start:
at which point the flash had to go night-night.
Kelsey had arranged for a bevy of starters, including some vegan options for me. I like her already.
Antipasto misto con verdure grigliate:
Plus an extra plate without the meat:
My personal favorite, Insalata di verdura stagionale all griglia, a seasonal grilled vegetable salad with avocado:
Good ol’ dairy eating me yearned for this one. Can’t believe it’s been more than 4 years since I’ve had burrata.
Burrata pugliese con pomodori e rucola–imported burrata with vine ripened tomatoes, arugula, basil and extra virgin olive oil:
Next each of us found in front of us a plate of parmigiana di melanzane alla napoletana, or eggplant parmigiana “napoli” style with a tomato, basil sauce, and parmesan cheese. a nice, small portion without the breading. dairy-eating lauren mentally bitch-slapped vegan lauren when this came:
Il Sole is by no means a vegan restaurant and I pretty much never expect non-vegan restaurants to have vegan dishes on the menu, much less to accommodate my special requests. I was blown away, though, when I learned they had both rice pasta (!) and tempeh in the kitchen for picky people like me.
This was actually a table favorite. Maybe they should throw it on the menu! No? Pushing my luck? K.
Lobster ravioli:
Spinach ravioli:
Baked Branzino and another fish, not sure which. Somebody tell me.
At this point in the meal, a fan of Sarah’s recognized her from her blog and surprise attacked. She was so excited/nervous about seeing Sarah that she could barely hold still for me to capture the moment. It was pretty weird adorable.
Dessert came and dairy-eating me gave regular me a one-two combo followed by an uppercut.
Not so much because of this:
But because of this:
Just as the world is a sad place without Michael Jackson, and Showtime is a sad place without L Word, my tummy is a sad place without bread pudding in it.
The Good News? You don’t need your parents to have a hot date at Il Sole, especially if you go on a Sunday. Chef Issac Rivera has introduced affordable Rustic Dinners on Sunday evenings so you can get the full family style Italian experience and the, holy shit, that was kind of a bargain, experience. You know the one.
For $35, you get to select one appetizer and one main course from a list of Italian comfort foods, including this tomato bread soup, veal osso bucco, sweet potato ravioli, branzino, lasagna, eggplant parmesan, and burrata, to name just a few of the prix-fixe options.
You can opt to add dessert, ranging from $6-$8 and wine from $8-$11 by the glass or $29-$39 by the bottle.
Il Sole has been around for nearly 15 years, a rare feat in the restaurant world and a sign that sometimes usually it’s beautiful, simple, well-cooked food that outlasts trends like tapas and food trucks.
After dinner, Sarah convinced us all to join her for a drink at Delphine in the new W on Vine and Hollywood.
Crowd was exactly what you imagine. Prince of Persia meets Christian Audigier formalwear.
Decor was cooler than the place deserved maybe. Almost like a 4th grader having his architect mom build his Mission for the school project.
Something’s not adding up.
We had a bizarre after dinner combination of bread, olives, and sorbet. And more wine.
I accidentally ate a giant clove of garlic out of the olive bowl, having mistakenly assumed it was an artichoke heart. Nobody’s fault but my own. That’s like mistaking me for Oprah. Clearly no resemblance.
Sorbet flavors were nothing to write home about–lemon, mango and raspberry. Lemon was popular, and since I’m a rebel without a cause I immediately rejected the lemon and bonded with the mango.
Delphine? I wasn’t ultra impressed or super horrified, so I’d get peer pressured back into going.
Il Sole–I’ll be doing the peer pressuring. Every Sunday for the rest of our lives! Who’s in??
Yesterday Diana, Sarah, Sook and I lurked at Tavern all afternoon to celebrate Sook’s belated birthday.
We sat inside under a giant skylight. Or was it outside under a giant canopy? Who’s to say?
Either way, apparently some people thought it was really bright in there.
By the way, I was kidding, we were definitely inside and there’s no excuse for wearing your glasses inside at brunch unless your name starts with J. and ends with Lo, in which case it’s still unacceptable, but at least sort of expected.
Service was relaxed but professional. By relaxed I mean slow. Although it’s that kind of place and I’m glad they didn’t rush us. I might have been more glad if I could’ve eaten something else off the menu besides four leaf clovers, but that’s my own fault, isn’t it.
Bread for the table, served with salt and butter:
Diana ordered monkey bread, too. Why do they call it that? Do monkeys like cinnamon?
My salad had fennel, citrus, and green olives. It was perfect. For about 5 minutes. Until I wanted to stab myself in the eye out of hunger. Stupid veganism.
Sarah had the wild mushroom frittata with spinach and, what–goat cheese? Came with potatoes that needed salt.
Diana had the Tavern “benedict” with prosciutto and lemon.
Sook had the smoked fish with toasted rye and what the website says is goat cheese, but what she reported to be whipped cream cheese. I trust our soldier on the front lines.
At this point in the meal, fuck, it started getting really bright. I mean, just look at the ceiling:
According to Sook there is a saying in Korean that says something like, if you make fun of something you will turn into it.
Koreans are a wise people:
After I sexually harassed a teenager baking bread in the front on my way to feed the meter, I reported back to the table that I had scared him with my come hither look. I guess sometimes we don’t look as cute as we think we do. Diana called this my “come hither or I’ll kill you” look. Note to self, adjust friendliness in facial expressions before my next attempt at harassment.
Diana’s come hither look involves props:
Sook’s look is all about not looking:
Sarah’s look was arguably the only one that would attract, not repel, the opposite sex:
For dessert, creamsicle coupe? Seriously, Tavern, update your website. You’re making me look bad.
Sook couldn’t keep her fingers outta this picture if her life depended on it. Fortunately it didn’t, plus it was her birthday so I let her slide.
Great brunch, beautiful spot, silly friends. See you dudes in less than a week, unless you haven’t forgiven me for the come hither part of this post, in which case I’ll just have to use my seductive facial expressions to woo you back. Don’t let it come to that.
There are not many great sit down arabic restaurants in LA. Maybe in the valley or Glendale, but those are both dead to me.
Some of my favorite Arabic restaurants I loved as a child, which surely none of you will remember, include Al-Amir, who baked their pita bread (or khubz arabiya) from scratch and had a pianist and a belly dancer on Saturday nights. Ha. I said pianist. They were also in the same building where Models, Inc. was filmed and E! Entertainment is now. They closed in 1998.
I also loved Annie’s as a child, an informal mom ‘n’ pop joint in Little Armenia where you could get a traditional arabic breakfast of Ful Muddamas (basically a bowl of beans, but better) on Sundays. Annie would instruct us to get our sodas ourselves out of the fridge in the back. Diet Coke and Sprite. Right next to the Preparation H. Maybe that’s why they’re closed.
One of the last few standing (of my favorites, at least) is Marouch. Marouch is one of those special places I’ve been enjoying with my family since I was God knows how small and cute. The owner, Serge, knows and respects my father and I, as a result, pretty much refuse to take dates there. If I have taken you there, that’s why I didn’t let you touch my leg during dinner.
To drink my mom had lemonade and my Dad and I each had an order or Araq, an anise-flavored alcoholic beverage that tastes like black licorice and puts the likes of tequila, gin, and scotch to shame. If you are not Arabic and you read about Marouch from say, Jonathan Gold, don’t ask for this. They will pretend they don’t know what you’re talking about and offer you beer or wine. Also, you will hate it anyway probably.
Since it was just the three of us and we often over-order, we skipped main courses and just ordered some meza (starters).
hummus:
baba ghanouj (or mtabal):
Special spicy salsa that Bob, our favorite waiter, always makes for us. My parents eat it with the kibbeh nayeh (raw meat—yikes):
Two favorite salads, tabbouleh and fatouch:
(By the way, that’s what tabbouleh should look like. If it’s got a ton of bulgar wheat in it and is equal parts white and green, you may be shopping at Trader Joe’s).
pickled turnips, hot peppers, olives and green onions:
fried kebbeh, which we refer to as “footballs,”–meat fried in cracked wheat.
At this point we would normally just be getting started since rice and meat would be on the way. We quit while we were ahead though, and ordered Arabic coffee to finish the meal. That’s Serge:
He was kind enough to surprise us with one of my favorite desserts, mahalabieh–rice pudding served with pistachios and rose water. you don’t know ’bout this!!!
Bob, if that is his real name, gave my mother some fresh camomile to make at home before bed time so she could sleep better post rotator cuff surgery.
Now that’s hospitality, one of the main things arabs are famous for, not counting terrorism and arranged marriage. See? We’re not so bad!
Let’s play a game where we name the top three restaurants I visit most. If your lineup looks like this:
1.) M Cafe
2.) M Cafe
3.) M Cafe
or some variation thereof, you win. Your prize is not redeemable in the state where you live.
Last Friday I had the pleasure of joining some of my favorite food homies (Sook and Sarah) and Vanessa from Wagstaff at M Cafe Culver City to talk, eat, and allow me the chance to prove I’ve already eaten everything on the menu.
What’s the big occasion?
We convened to discuss the Beverly Hills location launch of Little M.
Think about it–what’s your one gripe with M Cafe? It’s definitely not the food. It can’t be. But isn’t it just a smidge expensive sometimes?
Well M Cafe in Beverly Hills is debuting a new menu, not so different from the other two locations in terms of food options, but certainly more affordable and great for picking up food on the go.
We started off with some seasonal side salads, including lentils with radicchio, maple roasted veggies, and celery root remoulade.
We also had a variety of sushi (I stuck with the shitake avocado roll) –including spicy tuna, spicy shrimp, and fresh salmon.
Sushi and I had a showdown and I won:
Kinda scary, huh.
Some of the main courses we had:
The Gado Gado Salad–at Melrose it costs $11.45. In BH it’s $10.00
The Big Macro Burger–Melrose: $11.45. BH-$9.75 Both with one choice of side salad.
The Seitan Katsu Bowl, the Teriyaki Bowl with Black Cod and the Bi-Bim Bop (There is some variation of these bowls on the BH menu that runs a few bucks cheaper, especially if you get it sans fish):
The Panino Tuscano:
They have some different sandwich options in Beverly Hills–in general they run under $10 in price, whereas they are closer to $12 at the other locations.
BH also has some a la carte options (amen!) like BBQ Tempeh or Seared Tuna Tataki.
Sook is a hoarder and half way through the meal we discovered she was hanging on to more silverware than was really necessary:
Her bad behavior was rewarded like so:
and particularly like so:
Chocolate cake was a big, moist hit. Sarah hates the word “moist,” which is why I awkwardly injected it into that last sentence–because making your friends uncomfortable is funny.
You know what else is funny?
That after boxing the next morning with my friend Joy I ended up right back at the Melrose location for brekkie. There’s no shame in my game.
Scrambled tofu with tempeh bacon and sweet potato hash with grilled country bread:
Post-boxing knuckle sandwich:
Best blueberry pancakes with organic maple syrup and soy butter with tempeh bacon:
Both of those breakfast dishes are under $10 and were a good way to start the day.
If you are not familiar with macrobiotic cuisine, get with the program, specifically M Cafe’s program. It’s about energy and balance in your food and it makes you feel good when you eat it. Why else would I eat there every day? Besides the fact that it’s basically my office now.
Iron Chef Masaharu Morimoto. Odd choice, maybe.
But I bet he’s a real tiger.
A week ago, Sarah brought Sook and me with her to watch Chef Tal Ronnen do a vegan cooking demo at Le Cordon Bleu in Pasadena.
He not only wrote an amazing vegan cookbook with a picture for every recipe, The Conscious Cook, but he also prepared all meals for Oprah’s vegan cleanse, did the food for Ellen DeGeneres’ vegan wedding and believes in vegan food as filling, satisfying and rich as a plate of meat and potatoes.
Would you ever think these dishes didn’t have chicken or cream?
Inspired by the demo, we went to Pure Luck for a vegan lunch. Also Sarah and Sook are nice friends and always make sure I can eat more than bibb lettuce wherever we go.
To drink we each had some sort of fizzy pomegranate soju thing. Wait, was it pomegranate? It looks like ginger. I don’t know.
Sarah, in my opinion made the wisest choice, and ordered the Quinoa Paloma salad, which is probably the main reason I would come back here.
I made the worst choice out of confusion and hunger and got the Cesar Salad with Tofu. It was ok.
Sook came in at a strong second by ordering the Fresh Noodle Salad with tofu, bean sprouts, cilantro, basil, and lime. She skipped the peanuts cause that’s not her style, yo.
Out of curiosity we split a side of order of jackfruit. Jackfruit is sometimes used as a vegetarian substitute for chicken and here’s why:
looks like shredded meat, right?
Afterward I peer pressured Sook into getting ice cream from Scoops since it was right across the street and, fuck it, if you’re gonna drink in the middle of the day you might as well have dessert, too.
By this point, I have no idea what we ordered. Let’s guess, shall we?
I think she had coconut oreo (vegan) and chocolate hazelnut (not vegan and possibly not hazelnut). I think I had pistachio rosewater (vegan and delicious in that old worldly harem sort of way) and almond cognac (vegan and possibly not cognac).
Clearly I need to either take notes, post sooner, or be a better liar.
Also, while it’s very exciting to finally have a camera, can I please, for the love of God, learn how to take a decent picture?? Shadow: heed this warning: you are not welcome here.
P.S. we noticed something about the cooking students at Le Cordon Bleu. Since when do you have to look like this to be a chef in training?
Last week Billy and I went to Jitlada since he’d never been and I haven’t been since my foray into veganism. Once we were there I asked to see Jazz so I could tell her I loved her/didn’t know what I could eat on the menu.
In no way did she shame me or make me feel like a bad doggie for being vegan. She helped us pick our dishes and assured me she’d be cooking my food herself.
Typically as a vegan making special requests I feel like a special pest. Jazz made me feel like a special guest! yeah that’s right I’m a poet and I don’t even know it.
Jazz ordered me to have the plum wine and I do not turn down orders to drink mysterious alcohols. Future dates, beware.
Billy had a coke. Snore.
Then he had the mussels, per Jazz’s recommendation. If I remember correctly he said these were the best mussels he’d ever eaten.
Also the spiciest sauce. Ha.
She also recommended the beef for him, and I so wish I remembered exactly what this dish is called. If you’re there, ask for the beef featured on the Food Network’s The Best Thing I Ever Ate. I think this is it. My best guess is that it’s called Crying Beef. Vegans no likey this name cause they take it literally.
Now on to what I ate, cause seriously, whoa, so good. Jazz, I know it’s not the first time you’ve heard this nor will it be the last but I LOVE you. LOVE LOVE. BIG LOVE.
She whipped up some Thai green curry with carrots, broccoli, bamboo shoots, coconut milk, peas, tomatillos, and tofu.
Underneath the veggies were big soft flat noodles.
And finally, what was possibly the most delicious Thai dish I’ve ever had at Jitlada (aka anywhere), even dating back to my meat-eating days, Jazz brought out deep-fried tofu with beautiful crispy basil. Since these “vegan” dishes aren’t exactly on the menu, I’m doing a terrible job recalling the ingredients or giving them a proper name. I believe this particular dish is normally made with shrimp rather than tofu.
Would really strict vegans be ok eating here? I’m not sure. I imagine there is residue of fish sauce in the pans, but I’m not really strict enough (yet) for this to bother me.
Jazz was so hospitable and so accommodating I felt right at home. Except at home I have to pretend I’m not vegan cause it annoys my parents. Jazz, you want a big, 28-year old, food-blogging, unemployed baby? No? It’s ok, I’ll be back anyway.
On Monday I knew I’d be on the Westside around lunch time,
so I reached out to twitter homies for vegan restaurant recommendations.
I got lots of good feedback but Diana of DianaTakesaBite just about pounced in response with a recommendation not just for a restaurant but for a specific meal there. Challenge accepted.
She suggested I add Blackened Tempeh to the Ensalada Azteca at Native Foods in Westwood, and that’s exactly what I did.
Fresh avocado, jicama, mango salsa, currants, organic quinoa, toasted pumpkin seeds, and cilantro. Mango lime vinaigrette. Holy Shit.
The best part? Just about every ingredient they use is made there, except, I think, for their gardein brand “chicken.” The tempeh was nutty and hearty and the salad was exactly what I want to eat for lunch every day for the rest of my life. Who says variety is the spice of life? Not me.
I’m not gonna lie–I hate Westwood. I’m not sure if it’s the memories of hangin’ with OPM in 7th grade outside the arcade or if it’s just the massive amounts of co-eds and medical staff and limited parking that send me into panicky hysterics. Native Foods is worth working it out though. Big time.
P.S. Extra points if you can guess what OPM stands for. I’ll give you a hint. It’s the Original Persian Mafia. Shit, I blew it.
I’m starting this year off right, with the new camera my sister gave me for Christmas. Finally you might be able to see all the tofu you hate me for eating. Here’s a recap of this year so far:
After apparently looking possessed on New Years Eve
Joanna, Brent, and Brent’s brother Bryan invited me to the Laker game.
Bryan went to the game dressed like this:
Once he took his fur snuggie off, he was able maneuver his way to the fridge and leave a path of beverage destruction:
Speaking of path of destruction, it’s funny when the Lakers trick another team into thinking they might win and then steal all the glory in the last 3 seconds. Kobe, you silly!
The next morning my sister and I had breakfast at Newsroom on Robertson, where it took all my willpower not to order my favorite grilled veggie salad at 9am.
She had 4 pancakes disguised as one:
very sneaky:
I had Monja’s tofu scramble with spinach, caramelized onions, and broken vegan sausage bits:
For vegans, I like their lunch options better than their breakfast ones. Mine was really good, but I wasn’t that excited about ordering it.
It left me full until dinner time, which again, I spent with my sister. Duh.
Michelle, Tracy and I went to the Umami Burger at Space 1520 in Hollywood…
I wish I had tried this before I went vegan. Because if you order a veggie burger here it’s just not the same.
Tracy’s Umami Burger doesn’t look that exciting thanks to me not making him cut it in half. But he swears it’s the best burger he’s ever had.
I got a veggie burger, no bun, since the bun isn’t vegan.
My sister did too. She was pissed when it came and it was a basically a mushroom shaped like you know what. Until she ate it and realized it was actually a really good mushroom.
Good thing we also ordered a market salad with almonds and beets that look deceivingly like ahi tuna, onion rings and sweet potato french fries:
The sweet potato fries tasted like tiny, southern, cinnamon-y churros. The onion rings were the mushroom’s redemption song in my sister’s heart and mind.
After dinner we geared up to watch The Story of the US invasion of Iraq Avatar.
I’m not gonna lie, I liked it. But not as much as I love the cinematic spectacle that is my neighbor’s house:
Happy New Year y’all.
2009 was a big year for me. Let’s review:
I started this blog early last spring, which I never expected to be interesting to me for more than 5 minutes. Now it’s like a toe, without which I am imbalanced. Ew.
I got my Master’s in Psychology in May. Rad.
I went from eating everything but dairy to completely vegan in October. Everyone hates me for that. Except the animals. Ha!
I got fired for the first time in my life in November. Ouch. Will make me a better therapist? Certainly made me a happier person.
In December, I began blogging for Huffington Post, which I’m hoping will skyrocket me into irrevocable fame. Or at least I just hope they don’t fire me, too. Billy–I’m talking to you, pal.
I spent my first full year single since before 1999. So obviously I needed/deserved it.
Big year or not, I’m ready to move on to the next shit. I hope my recap at the end of 2010 includes me going back to school, becoming a Bikram yoga champ, landing Lakers season tickets, a job that doesn’t make me wanna drink hemlock, and maybe a book deal.
Here’s me exiting 2009 and entering 2010. Note the terror on my face and the ecstasy on my friend Jacob’s. New Year’s Resolution–less terror, more ecstasy:
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