Nice…someone finally put together a list of the secret items on In-N-Out’s secret menu. Turns out it’s larger than their regular menu: http://www.badmouth.net/in-n-outs-secret-menu/

Everyone who knows me, knows I’m a taco truck following, hot dog cart stalking, roll my window down to buy a churro from a strange man while crossing the border kind of food lover. I love street food of all kinds and from every culture. So, you can imagine how excited I was when I heard that Susan Fenniger would be opening a new restaurant just minutes from us that would be entirely devoted to this noblest form of edibles, aptly named Street. What’s not to love about that? Unfortunately a lot.

To my disappointment Street feels more like a trendy concept restaurant for the kind of person who would never have the guts eat a bacon wrapped hot dog in Mexico or those fried octopus balls in a back alley of Tokyo. I wanted so badly to like it this place, after all I’m their target customer! We went in hopes that Street would be a foodie temple, a place of worship for all of us devotional meat on a stick junkies. Sadly it felt like just another sanitized L.A. pseudo hipster joint that tries so hard that it totally forgets what makes street food cool in the first place; it’s inexpensive AND delicious at the same time.

Street is definitely aimed at trying to make you feel current, cool and urban for eating there but just felt so disingenuous. The walls depict scenes of city lights at night with drawings of urbanites and random graffiti. There is way more tangerine than can be forgiven, such an active alarming color when you are surrounded by it on all sides. There is nothing organic or gritty about the place, nothing that remotely eludes to the fact there may be an enormous steamy pot of something truly amazing bubbling away on the stove in the kitchen. It’s hard to believe that even while the decor had us feeling such acute disconnect from our meal we were still ready to forgive it all had the food just been mind blowingly delicious.

We were hopeful when a bowl of little savory Indian Spiced Millet Balls came to the table. They were studded with tiny black currants and colored with turmeric like a papadum and a rice crispy treat had an exotic love child. I liked them and actually thought they were fun to eat and good eye candy but not enough to ask for them by name. We ordered five small plates just to get a taste for the menu. I woke up thinking about dim sum so the bulk of the dishes we tried were in the Asian category. The biggest let down came three plates in when we realized that the highlight of our meal had actually been reading the descriptions of the dishes on the menu.

We started with the Cantonese White Radish Cake with grilled Chinese sausage. There was a fried egg placed on top that had a nice runny yolk—which I adore—but the white was still extremely runny as well which kind of made my stomach turn when I took my fork to it and it wrapped around it like snot. The radish cake itself wasn’t a total failure, they are intentionally benign little things to begin with but topped with the egg it just became a messy doughy plate of paste. The spicy chili sauce did help but totally overwhelmed the palate so that it really wouldn’t have mattered what you were eating at that point, but it did distract from the blandness.

The Japanese Shizo Shrimp didn’t taste like shizo at all, although the quality of the shrimp was good. I’ve definitely had better won ton wrapped shrimp at a hole in wall in Thai town and the sauce was so nondescript that I actually had to ask what it was. I was given a one word answer, “ponzu”—but I love ponzu sauce so I beg to differ. What I do know was that there was a blob of wasabi in the sauce, because that was really all I tasted.

The Mung Bean Pancake had a nice heat and the little pieces of pork belly—although a little over cooked for my taste—did have a starring role. The Chinese mustard sauce was great but the dish could have used some more kim chee or some bright taste somewhere, it all ended up as one big salty taste in the end.

The Pork Dumplings were essentially bad pot stickers. The won ton skins were chewy and thick like shoe leather, nothing delicate about it. The ones I make from Trader Joe’s have lighter dumpling skins. What made me mad was that the meat inside of the dumplings was delicious! I could see little flecks of orange zest which I really liked and the flavor was subtle and sweet, but in the end it was completely obliterated by a doughy, chewy won ton skin.

We both liked the Cuban Stuffed Potato Cake stuffed with picadillo. Me being part Cuban I am a fan of picadillo and make my mother’s recipe regularly so I can be a little biased about this dish, but this was a decent version. The olives, meat and raisins were all minced very fine and stuffed inside a pancake that had the fried mashed potato texture of a Cuban croquette. (Porto’s anyone?) It was covered in a pico de gallo style salsa and something that looked like guacamole sauce but tasted of mint. It was a very homey dish and I enjoyed it’s soft messiness as soon as it cooled down—which took a while actually, because it was incendiary hot.

We then made the mistake of ordering the $16 Beef Phở. Don’t ask me why, I know better. I blame the fact that we were slightly hungover for the thought that this magical $16 phở would somehow not only cure us of what ails, but also be so special it could change the course of our mediocre meal. Not only was this not the case but what came to the table does not constitute as phở in our book. The wide rice noodles, laying there sluggishly, barely able to float in the fatty beef broth, the brisket bits throughout were fine but tasted just like everything else and there were a few herbs thrown in for color I’m guessing. Mint, really Mint? Where was the Basil? The bean sprouts? The lime? The jalapeños? The vermicelli noodles? All the things that make phở, phở?!

It was truly the most miserable bowl of phở either of us had ever had. I had to ask for some lime on the side just to try and lift it slightly from the only note it knew how to play—a defining middle.

Here’s my thought, in a town where you can have a religious phở experience in a mini mall down the road for $5 dollars you better give me a real reason to pay $16 for you’re version, or maybe you just shouldn’t call it phở at all and leave it at “Vietnamese inspired soup” to avoid disappointing all the people who know better.

If you are looking to spend $85 on lunch for two—with no drinks—and you’ve never actually experienced the total transcendence that eating real street food can be, than you may really like this place. In a city like L.A., overflowing with generations of unsung chefs quietly cooking away culinary masterpieces in every innocuous mini mall you pass in your car, you just don’t need to pay 10 times as much for the food to be special.

Street 742 N. Highland Ave. LA CA 90038

My name is Rachel and I am a ramen addict. I drive incredibly long distances—and wait in even longer lines—in search of the best ramen ever. I keep chasing the Chashu dragon wherever it leads me (which is everywhere from Tokyo to Reseda). I am helpless to my addiction, I can’t stop thinking that I’m just one mini mall or train station dive away from the absolute best bowl ever. This time the monkey on my back landed me in the ramen ghetto of Torrance, CA and lured me into a temple of sin known as Chabuya.

I came looking for pure porcine pleasure and I did not leave disappointed. My Kara Kara Ramen arrived at the table with steam rising up from the sumptuously creamy broth with a large slice of perfectly fatty chashu floating on top concealing the bits of spicy ground chicken, crunchy sweet bamboo shoots, thinly sliced green onions and perfect chewy noodles from the eye—making each one a sweet devilish discovery. Me, being me, added nori to my order and next time, because we all know there will be a next time, I’ll add fried garlic too—because I’m sick and I can’t help myself. Go to Chabuya right away, just don’t blame me when you wake up in the gutter with nothing but a pair of chopsticks in you’re hand. You’ve been warned.

Chabuya – 24231 Crenshaw Blvd. Torrance, CA 90505 (310) 530-2749

A bunch of us (finally) got to try the dim sum at Ocean Seafood in Chinatown here in Los Angeles. We’d read all the great reviews and were ready to be blown away. I should preface that I’m from San Francisco, so I’ve had my share of dim sum—both mediocre and great. I was hoping for the later since I don’t make it home as much as I’d like.

There were hits and misses. Let’s start with the hits: the Har Gow (shrimp dumpling) and Char Siu Bao (BBQ pork bun) were both great. The Dow Sa Bow (sweet bean paste bun) and braised duck, not so much. In fact, the duck was served cold and was real fatty. I tried the Dow Sa Bow twice, neither had any bean paste in it.

The selection was kinda bleak too. Generally a steady stream of carts come by with a tempting array of goodies, not here. The same dishes came by again and again, and many never appeared (taro root anyone?) And the service…

Probably the worst service I’ve had in Los Angeles. Trying to end on a high note we asked for more BBQ Pork Buns not once, not twice, not three times—four times! Our party waited an extra 30 minutes. Nada. I finally had to go up to the register to pay the check, no one would come back to our table.

Proceed with caution.

Ocean Seafood
747 N Broadway Los Angeles, CA 90012-2819

WOW, Finally! Small plates, big food. Now this is the kind of place I’ve been waiting for! I was a bit trepidatious when I first saw the location for BIN 8945. Being the third point in a triangle consisting of West Hollywood’s arguable epicenter “the Abbey” and the equally infamous “Hamburger Haven” on the corner of Santa Monica Blvd and Roberston (not exactly known for its fine cuisine.)

The space BIN 8945 now occupies seemed to be cursed. Over the years it’s been home to many mediocre establishments involving incredibly average food, and I’m being kind. The thought proccess I suppose being that in that location, you’ve already got the foot traffic so why bother working so hard to make great food? How wrong these silly predecessor’s were to underestimate the neighborhoods desperate need for a culinary ray of light—something that was not lost on wine guru David Haskell (Le Cirque, Aquavit). David is passionate about wine and it shows. Expect to learn, and hopefully drink, something new; and if you forget the name of that fabulous bottle? Don’t worry, he’ll remember and email it you the next day. Just don’t forget to get his card on your way out. On his reccomendation we tried a fantastic wine from Isreal…who knew?

So yeah, yeah, all this talk of wine, what about the food? One word, YUM! Lots and lots of little plates to try and discuss amongst ourselves. My favorite way to eat. All kinds of flavors and textures from a range of cuisines. One of the highlights was the coconut curry mussles with spicy sausage. OMG! These were so good they defy words. The beef cheeks were another table favorite as were the fried oysters. Is it possible not to love a fried oyster? I think not. We ordered them twice.

BIN 8945 has quickly become a favorite late night spot for LA chefs, and once you’ve eaten here you’ll see why. They’ve even begun doing guest chef dinners. On March 25, chef Ludovic Lefebvre of Bastide fame will be there.

Bin 8945 is a breath of fresh air for a homesick San Franciscan. We had a life affirming meal and left totally energized. I can’t wait to go back and try their menu by new chef Michael Bryant who worked with mentor Norman Van Aken as his executive sous chef at both Coral Gables and Norman’s…mmmmmmmm…sounds like another delicious adventure to look forward too. Amen.

BIN 8945
8945 Santa Monica Blvd.
310-550-8945

There are simple things that, when done right, are the best; the Hamburger, Fresh Baked Bread, French Fries, and the Fish Taco. We all have memories of the best “___” we’ve ever had. They are elusive, magical moments. The best fish taco I’ve ever had was at a taco stand in Ensenada, Mexico. I don’t even know it’s name, all I have is this picture. I’ve never met it’s equal.

Doing simple things well is often the hardest; it requires good ingredients, skill and above all confidence. Too often I find where just a little butter is needed, the temptation to add minced garlic, infused olive oil, a plethora of herbs, some exotic salt, balsamic, then some pepper, and then… and all I end up tasting is confusion and doubt. “If this doesn’t do it, maybe adding this will?” This applies to all art. It’s often what you don’t see, hear, or taste that’s just as important.

Nobody got the “Baja” style fish taco right—until I tried the Taco de Pescado “Baja” at Mijita Cocina Mexicana in the Ferry building during a recent trip to San Francisco. Battered and deep-fried mahi-mahi in soft corn tortillas with cabbage and avocado-cilantro cream. That’s it. Well, that and love. There was love there, and it was mutual. If you’re ever in San Francisco, go get one. Who knew $4.75 could make you feel so good?

Mijita Cocina Mexicana, One Ferry Building #44, San Francisco, CA 415-399-0814