Salami Sandwich

Sorry about the pic, I always begin to eat my food before I remember to photograph it.

My current lunch/afternoon snack-to-eat-on-porch of choice is this simple, tasty little salami sandwich.

It consists of crusty, chewy bread, like Il Fornaio's slipper bread or a ciabatta, olive tapenade, salami, arugula, and a bit of spicy mustard. The sandwich on the left doesn't have tomato in it, but I think it would be a nice, refreshing touch.

Here's why this sandwich is so special: the garlicy-fragrant-oily tapenade is a pefect match with thin, briny slices of salami. The spicy mustard and slighty bitter arugula complement, and stand up to, the saltiness of both the olives and the salami. The fresh, toasted ciabatta provides a nice bit of chew while the fatty salami and tapenade melt together on the palate. Arugula and tomato add a cool crispness that refreshes the palate after the initial flavors of olive and salted pork are tasted.

I love simple treasures. Don't you?

Restaurant Minutes

Photos: The new pineapple upside-down cheesecake, and fried shrimp with remoulade and fries. Cheesecake Factory's batter is pretty brilliant--light and crisp, not doughy and greasy. Oh! and the ranch...to die for. The garlic content in the ranch will make your breath reek of death for a few days, but the ranch should never be passed up when ordering fries.



There needs to be an official increment of time called the "restaurant minute" in order to bridge the miscommunication gap between diners and waitstaff. Eric and I had the waiting time misunderstanding twice today. Once at Walnut Cafe in Santa Cruz, another at Cheesecake Factory in San Jose. Imagine how much calmer customers would be if they could know exactly how long the wait for a table would be.

Customer: Hi. Table for 2 please.

Hostess: Name?

Customer: Bobert.

Hostess: Okay, 2 for Bobert. The wait for a table is about 20 restaurant minutes.

Customer: Restaurant minutes? Did you just say restaurant minutes?

Hostess: Yes. A restaurant minute is equivalent to 3.2 regular minutes.

Customer: Great! I'll just hang out on the patio and try to stave off auto-digestion.

...or...

Waitress: Thanks so much for waiting. Your food should be out in about 10 restaurant minutes.

Customer: ...but what if my car doesn't start when I get back outside?

Waitress: Hahahaha. Complimentary cheesecake?

Fried Foods and Beer

This is a pic from one of the best nights I've had in a while. I was at Robin Hood British Pub in the valley having beer, seasoned curly fries, and fried mushrooms. The mushrooms were awesome because they tasted like they were covered in pork rinds. The batter was airy, crisp, and rich. The ranch didn't do the mushrooms justice but I didn't mind, I just drank up my Hefeweizen and soon found myself in a very smile-y state.

It was one of those auspicious evenings where we ran into old friends and their posses and everyone, well, mostly everyone, was laughing and having a good time. I hope to have lots of days like these in the future.

I Pity the Fool

It never occured to me how much I take Mexican food for granted until I took my new British buds, Jake and Joe, to a mexican joint and they asked me what "poll-o" and "tor-till-uhs" were. I first explained the 2-Ls-in-Mexican-Spanish-equals-"y"-rule before describing the basics of Mexican food. After watching them devour their tacos and burritos with more gusto than I have seen in quite some time, it occured to me that I pity the fool who does not live within driving distance of a good, authentic cabana or taqueria. A good mexican place should have salsa that is hot, tangy, and freshly made, beans that are creamy with the flavor of lard, and clearly not from a can, a wide selection of meats listed in Spanish so that you have to look up the word to know what part of the animal the meat is from, and home made beverages like horchata and jamaica. Oh, and if the corn tortillas are home-made, then you know you've got a pretty authentic place.

The pics above are of a fried fish taco, and a slightly deconstructed sope from Tacos Por Favor in Santa Monica. A sope is a thick shell made of corn that is fried until crisp, then filled with meat, beans, lettuce, salsa, and in this case, lots and lots of wonderfully tangy crema, or sour cream. They're similar to the chalupas they used to serve in public schools, except the shell is thicker, kinda like an open-faced pupusa. The sope above was the first I had ever eaten. It was made with chorizo which was sliced and fried. This method of preparation, as opposed to being crumbled and fried, brought out the smoky, resiny flavors of the sausage and rendered the slices crisp and slightly chewy. The spicy, garlicky chorizo, with the hearty, corn-y shell, crisp lettuce, and buttery-tangy cream combine beautifully in every bite.

Paired up with a tall glass of horchata on ice, the sope makes a cheap, filling, and delicious meal.
Horchata, FYI, is a drink made with ground rice, sugar, and spices. No two horchata recipes are alike. The one I get here in Santa Cruz at a restaurant called Los Pinos is almost bubble-gummy as well as cinnamon-y. One in Echo Park is very vanila-y, mildly spiced, and has the rich sweetness of condensed milk. The horchata at Tacos Por Favor is dark, heavily spiced with cinnamon and nutmeg, and mildly sweet. As it is always served over a generous scoop of ice, horchata is perfect for extinguishing the fires of intense chilies and refreshing the tastebuds.

Mashti Malone's

I got addicted to Mashti Malone's over the winter. For one thing, I love that it's called Mashti Malone's. The owners, who are Persian, kept the sign from the former shop, but replaced the first name with "Mashti" which, I think, is the name of the older brother in the fraternal duo that started the place. So there's this great sign with a scoop of ice cream, a 4 leaf clover, and some arabic on it that advertises this humble L.A. legend on La Brea Blvd.

My favorite, after much sampling of the lovely and exciting flavors, is the pistachio. Boring, I know, but it really is good pistachio ice cream. There's a generous smattering of pistachios in a fragrant, milky ice cream that is neither too waxy nor too sweet. The yellow cone in the pics is rosewater saffron ice cream. Also delicious, this particularly floral-tasting flavor is not for the faint of heart, and indeed it's flavor has been likened to perfume, but it's great for refreshing the palate after a heavy or spicy meal. I promise that if you learn to like the rosewater and orange blossom flavors you will develop a severe addiction, as I did earlier this year.

Despite their ambrosial ice cream, which is made on-site at the shop, I think I love Mashti Malone's because it reflects the eccentric, and infinitely diverse atmosphere of L.A. It's establishments like these that make me proud to call L.A. home.