Birthday dinner time. Had to throw these bad boys on:
I only bring them out on the rare occasion that I forget how much they really hurt or plan to get drunk enough to numb the pain.
When Nick and I were first dating, we would fantasize about Lakers season tickets and nights at the new Ritz downtown. Now we’re done pretending we’ll be filthy rich any minute (at least for now), but we’re not done celebrating like we are.
I don’t like crowds very much, and I don’t like competition when I go on a mission for dessert.
So when babycakes NYC came to LA at the beginning of the year, I patiently waited until my inner anxiety meter told me the coast was clear and the time was right. Turns out the time was right last Saturday.
Oh…and you know why I was so excited, about this, right? Because…
In case you need a gluten-free diet thanks to, say, a wheat allergy or celiac disease, it’s easy to tell what you can and can’t eat:
I was eyeing this bad boy but he escaped my wrath this time. I’ll get you next time, Gadget.
K. You hate me cause I keep showing you not-that-good shots of the case and not the amazing blueberry donut and strawberry jam with vanilla biscuit I inhaled daintily ate.
I bet if that donut was a person it would be all, “whoa, back up. why are you taking a picture so close to my face?!” And then I’d be like, “no, trust me, you look really good.”
In the world of vegan food, and particularly desserts, there are things that taste delicious to vegans, but non-vegans will still say “it’s good, but it tastes vegan” (you know who you are).
Then there’s shit like these motherfucking biscuits that taste so undeniably good and unrecognizably vegan. No qualifiers. No “good, but…” Just perfect. And able to hang with all the big (non-vegan) boys.
And that’s why it’s a problem for me that babycakes delivers.
Although before I knew that, I just planned on stockpiling after every visit…
What else should I try here?
Everything?
Are you sure? Well, you know best.
With Jacob in town and Ryan’s birthday coming up, it was only natural Sunday night turn into a sausage fest. And then after they did that, they picked me up with their friend Anthony, and we headed downtown to Wurstküche.
I kept taking pictures of Ryan with the flash while he was trying to parallel park. Just testing his skills under pressure.
Once we got inside Jacob and Ryan immediately went into ecstasy thinking about the sausage they were about to eat.
So many choices:
Vegetarians–note your three sausage options in the corner. Yes, that corner, directly next to the alligator and pork sausage. You don’t mind, do you?
I tried to take a picture of the cashier cause he looked like my friend Josh, but he immediately suspected my presence and hissed at me with his eyes.
I ordered the vegetarian smoked apple sage sausage with grilled onions and sweet peppers and some fries to share with Jacob. Then I took it upon myself to find the best seat in the house. We looked out on the whole dining hall.
Sasparilla soda:
Apparently I think it’s funny to make this face in pictures:
Saucy:
Anthony ordered the Sante Fe turkey sausage with jack cheese and jalapeño peppers and thought I would never remember that. Which I took as a personal challenge and, clearly, won.
He ordered it with grilled onions, sauerkraut, one red pepper, and one green. Just kidding.
Ryan got what I got–the vegetarian smoked apple sage sausage with yukon gold potatoes. Does anyone else think about Dan Quayle every time they type “potato”?
P.S. RyMac is not a vegetarian, but the veggie sausages here are good enough to be ordered and enjoyed by a meateater.
He got his with onions on top. Maybe too monochromatic for my taste.
Here’s mine, but with sweet peppers added.
Jacob had what I might have ordered if I wasn’t vegan and if I wasn’t freaked out by lamb casing–the apricot and ginger sausage, made of chicken and turkey. Throw in the lamb casing and Ol’ McDonald had a farm.
Here are our sausages next to each other (teehee):
We also split an order of super delicious fries, curry ketchup and tzatziki dipping sauces.
The sausages are vegan, the fries are vegan, and the beers are vegan. Not all dipping sauces are and the bread most likely contains eggs and honey. The sausages are not prepared to strict vegan standards. I didn’t eat the bread since it was not vegan. Ended up with a bun and onions=bunion? Gross.
Still hungry?
Ok, then I have an idea. Let’s drive really far to Ice Pan for ice cream.
I think Jacob got strawberry with bananas and caramel sauce mixed in. What a princess.
He could hardly contain his excitement. Or his ice cream.
Ryan continued on his phallic trajectory for the evening and ordered banana ice cream with bananas mixed in. He’ll take that with a side of tanning bed and a sprinkle of cashmere.
Ryan, you’re never hanging out with me again, are you?
Anthony, I have no idea what you got cause it looks exactly like what Ryan got. You win this round.
He rudely interrupted an illicit sex act in the public restroom. That clue alone should help you determine that Ice Pan is right on Santa Monica Boulevard at La Brea.
My ice cream was kind of awesome. Green tea (made with soy milk) coconuts and strawberries. The girl taking my order adamantly rallied for me to get my coconut mixed in and strawberries on top. I didn’t want them on top. I wanted them mixed in. I am weak and I acceded in fear of an “I told you so” look in the event she was right.
I love these outings when Jacob comes to town. I guess I’m allowed to hang with all the boys because I make more penis jokes than all of them combined. Ryan don’t hate me happy birthday bye.
A couple of weeks ago, I took a cute boy to one of my favorite Japanese restaurants in LA. Incidentally it’s also one of my favorite vegan restaurants–Shojin, the quiet gem tucked away modestly on the third floor of a somewhat intimidating, very Asian mall downtown.
First of all, Shojin’s menu comes in a binder, if that’s any indication of how many ordering choices you have.
Second of all, while they were at Staples shopping for binders, they clearly stumbled upon these:
which led to a whole lot of this:
I ordered iced tea and my date had ginger ale, which I took a sip of before he even realized the eagle had landed. Make myself comfortable, why don’t I?
As I sat down, I realized that I had lost my new, favorite, gift from my mommy purple scarf somewhere on the sojourn between car and restaurant.
I spent the entire dinner trying to imagine the whereabouts and foresee the fate of most favorite scarf.
I let my date order since the entire menu reads like a series of haikus with pictures. In the spirit of bossing me around, he then stole my camera, set it to macro, and took my pictures for me. I’m taking him with me everywhere, whether he likes it or not.
We had the crispy curry broccoli and tofu served with Shojin ketchup:
good shit yo.
Then we ordered the Shojin Go-Zen, a balanced assortment of traditional Shojin style dishes:
Seitan Pepper Steak:
daily vegetable dishes:
kind of the most majestic tempura I’ve ever seen:
(p.s. maybe I should limit the use of “majestic” to sea creatures?)
Then, because for some reason that wasn’t enough, we ordered The Caterpillar Roll with BBQ Seitan and Avocado:
At this point we were pretty full and I was in not-so-silent mourning over my lost scarf. So…..
Only one thing left to do, really.
Schooled him, naturally. I don’t think he realized what he was getting into when he agreed to play Scrabble with me. Cause why on earth would he have guessed that I secretly played expert Sri Lankan strangers online for months a year during a very slow phase at work?
I’m going to file that under never should have admitted.
Got up to leave the restaurant and guess what I found:
That’s more of a happy ending than any other I can think of that involves an Asian setting and a great date. Oh wait….
A few weeks ago my friend (and hairdresser) Thy invited me to see her tree and get some dinner in Japantown.
I’m allergic to cats but I like watching hers try to outsmart her, and get caught, every time I visit.
We headed to Orochon Ramen despite Twitter outcries that Daikokuya is far better.
I checked out the Situation (not you, Mike) and discovered that only Orochon offers a vegetarian broth in addition to their pork based broths. Daikokuya, you might be better, but I’ll never know.
At Orochon you first choose a broth for your ramen–soy sauce, miso, or salt. Thy and I both asked for miso. The other two seem to cry MSG a little louder than miso did. No?
Then you choose your level of spicy–there are 7 levels, plus two additional extra spicy levels. If you are brave/dumb enough to order Special #2, meaning the spiciest, and you can finish your entire enormous bowl in under 30 minutes, you get your picture on the wall. I kinda wanted to do this until Thy said something like, “You’re a girl. Girls don’t do that.” But? so competitive? want picture on wall? brag about spicy? ok fine.
Anyway, then you pick your extras–maybe you want additional corn or bamboo or pork or noodles or bean sprouts or garlic, etc.
Thy’s ramen was porky to the max and mine was all veggie. We had beer in common though.
Thy’s soup (spicy level number 2 –second spiciest if you don’t include the special #1 and special #2):
I got mine the same level of spiciness, per Thy’s suggestion, and I realized there was no way I would survive the Special #2 30 minute challenge. Although now that enough time has passed I have blocked out just how spicy my soup was and I want to try again. Any takers?
dude that shit was good. even though I felt like I had saline injected in my face the next morning when I woke up. Or whatever that probably would feel like.
so….basically just really bloated.
Guess what I ate?!?
Ha! Not so fast, pal. On a recent trip to Wurstkuche, the ugg boot of downtown, my friend Andrew put me on to the world’s most confusing vegetarian sausage ever. If I hadn’t been with two other vegetarians who vouched for the meat-freeness of the sausage, I would have done that embarrassing “are you sure this isn’t real meat cause if it is I can’t eat it” thing.
How does it work? First you patiently wait in line to order your sausage and beer. You can choose from the exotic, like alligator and pork or rattlesnake and rabbit sausage or the gourmet like apricot and ginger or sundried tomatoes with mozzarella. Or even the vegetarian like Italian with fennel and eggplant or the Mexican Chipotle with garlic and onions.
Choose from Belgian, German, North American, and English beers and then be prepared to order from this guy.
I’m pret-ty sure he was running the show by the way he bossed me around. You don’t want spicy peppers, you want sweet ones! Your favorite dipping sauce is curry ketchup! Whatever you say, pusherman, whatever you say.
Andrew and I made a bet earlier about whether or not they had more than one vegetarian sausage option. I’m about as big of a skeptic as I am a loser, and my skepticism lost me this bet. Thank God the stakes were not as high as our last bet. This time loser bought french fries. Let’s not talk about last time.
After the order was official, we made our way down a narrow hallway to the giant Beowulf-ish mess hall.
There I positioned us strategically away from a children’s birthday party, earning me the reputation of most insensitive asshole ever. Personally I thought it made me a hero.
Andrew got the mango jalapeno sausage (chicken and turkey) with grilled onions.
The other veggies and I all ordered the Vegetarian Smoked Apple Sage sausage, with apples, yukon gold potatoes, and rubbed sage. I got mine with sweet peppers and grilled onions, as I was instructed to do by my new boss.
Hi sausage. I miss you.
In theory. In reality, I think we might have grown apart.
Until now. I can’t believe it’s not butter sausage.
Small order of fries were kinda huge and kinda amazing:
After dinner we made our way through the sparkly streets of downtown to Staples Center to watch the Clippers lose by just a smidge.
Then I learned that my infinite knowledge did not include how to eat peanuts. Apparently there’s a right way and I wasn’t doing it. You know what you’re definitely not supposed to do, though? Get peanuts all over deez nuts:
Beer. Sausage. Sports. Deez Nuts jokes. Don’t I not seem like a vegan? Like the veggie sausage I ate (and loved!), you’d never know I was meat-free just by looking at me.
last week I had lunch at Lemonade with my friend, Matthew. When we were in high school, Matthew worked at the best record store in town (pre-Amoeba) and he would charge me 11 cents per record, which I think he really thought was a fair price for his friends. I’m pretty sure that’s why he got fired.
Now, Matthew practices the nearly lost art of dressing well. He is always super fresh in a different suit, no detail left unattended. Cufflinks, embroidered initials, beautiful shoes. My dad is a haberdasher so there is little I appreciate more than a handsome man in a handsome suit.
He is very Patrick Bateman perfect, and in line with that, orders a side salad for lunch and barely eats it.
Strawberries, ruffage, and cheese (I forget):
I got my new favorite, the watermelon radish, sugar snap pea, and ahi salad.
I hope this isn’t a seasonal dish they are about to rip away from me. I don’t think I’d take it well.
I maybe eat at Lemonade three, even four times a week. And each time I go I order three out of four things, as my little chola homie that works there likes to point out.
I always get the quinoa, sometimes get the lentils, sometimes the corn, and sometimes the cauliflower. Cauliflower got the boot on this particular visit. Sorry, pal, you’ve been oily lately. It’s not me, it’s you:
Sometimes when I’m really hungry and confused I think I want some of their hot food, beef stew or chicken basque. I’m usually wrong though.
Anyway, the other day I walked in, and the homie looked at me and said, “Hi Lauren, quinoa, corn and cauliflower?” (She hasn’t accepted my rejection of the once revered cauliflower just yet).
Just as I was about to give her the ol’ nod of affirmation/side salad correction, I saw written on the “What’s New” Chalkboard a magical phrase: “Watermelon Radish.”
Naturally I assumed this was a salad that contained watermelon and radishes, which sounded novel and even corn-replacement worthy. especially in the summer. maybe I should try making it. nobody do it first it, it was my idea.
Anyway, it was apparently super popular and all sold out, so I had to wait till next time to uncover it’s glory. When I went back I found that it was not a mixture of watermelon and radishes at all, but a “watermelon radish.” Who knew? I didn’t! Once again cauliflower lost it’s place:
Isn’t it amazing and beautiful? Like if a turnip and a jolly rancher made a baby?! And then got mixed into some kind of magical sesame vinaigrette with ahi and sugar snap peas??
So what is a watermelon radish? Besides being the mythical unicorn of the vegetable world? Have you seen them before?
Unlike other radishes, they become less intense in flavor as they mature. They tend to be peppery on the outside, but sweeter as you get closer to the center. Watermelon radishes can be sauteed, cooked and creamed (?!), served in salads, or added to soups.
Isn’t this kind of an unfair marriage? Like, who says you can just combine two amazing things and eat them? What’s next, banana fennel?? Marshmallow fucking lichis?? This isn’t okay!