As American As Pecan Pie

Posted on February 4, 2012 by Val

Township Kitchen Americana and Saloon
Los Angeles, CA

The throwback Township Kitchen Americana and Saloon in Hollywood

The throwback Township Kitchen Americana and Saloon in Hollywood

I admit that my first reaction upon walking up to Township Kitchen Americana and Saloon in Hollywood was one of confusion; to the uninitiated, the name painted on the side of the antique-looking building suggests a western bar selling antique stoves. It strikes me that restaurant and bar impresario George Abou-Daoud (The Bowery, Delancey, Mission Cantina) could have gotten by inking only the watering hole’s popular first name and saving himself a couple of double eagles but I was already intrigued passing through the gold leaf-lettered swinging glass doors, a portal to another time. Township emerged from the gutted remains of Abou-Daoud’s District in late 2010, but after its elaborate facelift the grand dame bears more resemblance to a purveyor of victuals and libations from 1910. The only feature left from the original space is the classic red tin ceiling; all the fixtures appear to be carefully chosen to make you forget what year it was when you walked in, including a room’s length mahogany bar framed by hand-painted mirrors emblazoned with phrases such as, “Continental Cuisine of the Unites States” and “Featuring Territories Old & New”.

The first page of the menu (which looks fresh off a moveable type press) is well stocked with American whiskeys (including corn and rye), as well as craft beers. After slugging back a couple of their authentic hooches below one of the hanging tin-shaded lamps may make you cast a glance over your shoulder to prepare a hasty getaway should Carrie Nation come in to bust the place up with an axe. Of course, those of us who drove up at 88 miles-per-hour in our Deloreans still have modern cocktalian fare to choose from (although you may enjoy ordering rustic-sounding beverages like “Lynchburg Lemonade”, “New York Egg Cream” or “Southern Sweet Tea”, feisty potations that will put a breeze in your bloomers).

The rustic and airy Township Kitchen Americana and Saloon

The rustic and airy Township Kitchen Americana and Saloon

The incredibly high ceiling gives the space an open look, but even with the room full conversation wasn’t drowned out by the rabble. Our group of 5 (including friends and writers Arianna Armstrong and Vivianne Lapointe) was comfortable at one of the throwback wooden benches, and although I’m not a big fan of dimly lit establishments as I prefer to clearly see what I’m about to eat, the subtle lighting lent itself well to the period decor. The piped in music nodded to alternative early on but gradually switched over to appease the drinking crowd – cabaret, Dixieland or even steampunk might have been more suitable to the theme. There’s nothing crazy on the menu, although Township does a fine job in pulling in dishes from around the country and executing them with their own flair; from Yankee port roast to lowcountry shrimp and grits, all bases are covered.

Township's take on the oyster and shrimp po' boy

Township's take on the oyster and shrimp po' boy

At Vivianne’s suggestion, I ordered the shrimp and oyster po’ boy, and while probably not what you’d expect to arrive when ordered in a Gulf Coast shack, massive chunks of cornmeal battered shellfish burst out of a sub roll in an inviting display. The sandwich was punctuated by a collusion of crisp, pickled red and green chiles and a couple of squirts of rather ominous-looking orange aioli. Oysters and shrimp in general are susceptible to over cooking and are two commonly used seafood items that can emanate that certain funk factor, but both were fresh, perfectly fried and mellowly flavorful; what caught me off guard was the capsaicin-laden accoutrements that set the back of my mouth ablaze like a Louisiana refinery fire. Despite the heat and though the sandwich may not have been authentic, it was delicious to be sure.

Pecan pie from a handed-down recipe

Pecan pie from a handed-down recipe

I ended the meal with a cup of coffee from Abou-Daoud’s equally-rustic adjacent Mercantile wine bar and took the advice of our waiter, ordering a generous wedge of pecan pie whipped up from his mother’s recipe (developed when they lived in Texas). Sweet desserts are a turn-off to me, but the pie wasn’t the familiar sticky, viscous and sugary confection I usually encounter in even the finer pie shops; the flavor of the pecans were the star of the dish, so good that we made short work of it by attacking it with our phalanx of spoons.

The food is fresh and delicious at Township, and while there isn’t any new ground being broken in designing the menu I regard that as a plus; the atmosphere, pseudo-historic decor and roundup of regional, traditional and homespun dishes is fresh take on an old theme that gives the feel of eating and drinking in a long-established tavern, an accomplishment deserving of a tip of the hat as you head on out into the sunset.

Township Kitchen Americana and Saloon
6612 Sunset Boulevard
Los Angeles, CA 90028
GPS Coordinates: 34° 5’52.16″N 118°20’0.64″W

GALLERY: See images from Val’s dinner at Township Kitchen Americana and Saloon in Hollywood, California

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I Smell A Rat

Posted on January 31, 2012 by Val

Nutria (South America and Louisiana)
L.A. Gastronauts at Villains Tavern, Los Angeles CA

The plated nutria with Rockefeller dressing

The plated nutria with Rockefeller dressing

Despite the American romance with Cajun cuisine, the thought of Paul Prudhomme or Emeril Lagasse presenting a steaming platter of rat fricassée conjures up visions of restaurant doors being blown open in a stampede with more force than Hurricane Katrina. While you’re not likely to find South America’s most notorious undocumented alien on the menu in high-end Big Easy eateries, many rural southern Louisianans have discovered that the high-protein, low cholesterol nutria is a plentiful meat source that the State of Louisiana is more than happy to see hunted to extinction. The nutritious nutria (or coypu – its original South American name) was originally imported to the United States to be raised for the fur trade; the clever rodents managed to free themselves from the bondage of the pelt farm back in the 1940s (thanks in part due to hurricane damage to their pens) and started in to doing what they do best – denuding marshes in nothing flat like some organic Weed Whacker.

A nutria in Louisiana (photo Steve Hillebrand, U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service)

A nutria in Louisiana (photo Steve Hillebrand, U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service)

The nutria makes its common nephew Rattus norvegicus seem downright cute; this Templeton on steroids can achieve a length of three feet (with almost half of that tail). It sports a whiskery beard which frames huge, bright orange incisors (the better to voraciously chew through any vegetation in sight) and has webbed back feet which give the aquatic rodent a clear advantage in the 50 meter freestyle. These bad boys are born to eat – literally; although like most mammals they nurse after birth, they are also capable of cleaning the veggies off their plate on the day they’re born – adults eat about a quarter of their weight daily. Various programs have been implemented to remove the nutria; since its inception in 2002, the Coastwide Nutria Control Program licenses people to bag an unlimited number of the varmints – each nutria tail turned in fetches $4 (which sounds like chump change until you realize that nearly half a million were redeemed in 2009 for a payout of over 2 million dollars). The Louisiana Department of Wildlife and Fisheries‘ attempts to institute programs to market nutria meat have been largely unsuccessful, undoubtedly due to rat-shy chefs and diners.

The L.A. Gastronauts prepare for a Cajun feast

The L.A. Gastronauts prepare for a Cajun feast

Enter L.A. Gastronauts. The Los Angeles chapter of the famed New York organization that gives the Explorer’s Club a run for their money is led locally by Helen Springut, who devises outlandish zoological gastronomic adventures on a somewhat monthly basis. These dinners are generally held as pop-ups, with the setting for the feast often times as fascinating as the menu items. For its January 2012 dinner, Springut enlisted the culinary skills of Chef and restaurant consultant Jeffrey Thomas and Chef Peter Haller to prepare a Cajun feast with the nutria as guest of honor. The L. A. Gastronauts selected the quirky, antique-looking Villains Tavern to stage the event; the venue (which opened in mid-2010) looks like the kind of place Marie Laveau would be happy to call home. A dark, unmarked, chain link gated area in the shade of a huge ficus is the portal to another world – the actual building surrounded on all sides by a tent covering which plunges even the outdoor portion into darkness. A large wrought iron marquee covers the entrance to the bar area which is furnished with antiques and quirky bits of Americana while the huge glass windows are obscured with shelves holding hundreds of antique bottles of all shapes, sizes and colors. Behind the inside and outdoor bars are old Gothic wooden church windows refitted with mirrors that make you wonder what really goes on here in the dark of night when the alcohol flows like the Mississippi.

Villains Tavern's antique bottle collection

Villains Tavern's antique bottle collection

Villains Tavern’s menu doesn’t appear to have any items that are a drastic departure from what you’d find in any upscale bar in L.A.; however they do get innovative with preparation and deserve points for their naming convention featuring whimsical names such as “Devil Dog”, “Demon Burger” “Wicked Fries” and “Babe on a Bun”. For the L. A. Gastronauts’ Cajun Feast, all food was brought in by the native Louisianan chefs; the menu read like a bayou grocery list – snapping turtle salad with market greens; country rabbit pâté with pickled okra; hand-stuffed crawfish boudin sausage with a corn maque choux; rich, crusty and cheesy tomato pie Paula Deen would drool over; and last, but certainly not least – braised nutria with Rockefeller dressing. It was a rare pleasure to watch the chefs at work, and somewhat humorous to see how they transformed Ben and Socrates into a dish that could scarcely be described as rodentia. Chefs Thomas and Haller didn’t pull any punches when it came to expressing their disdain for the nutria; although the meat was in a state that required days of preparation, Thomas had on hand the butchered hind quarters of a nutria that hadn’t been used for the dinner. The carcass was heavy with muscular, dark meat and virtually no sign of fat, which under normal circumstances would not be any more frightening that rabbit meat; however, the off-putting part of the preparation is the smell – an earthy musk that emanates from the meat itself.

Nutria mixed with pulled pork

Nutria mixed with pulled pork

Because nutria boasts a lean meat, it was cooked with one part pulled pork to two parts rat. It was difficult to tell the difference when sampling a spoonful of the meat, partially because of the spices used and partially because of the similarity in texture. Chef Haller plated the dish beautifully – he started by filling a ring with the Rockefeller dressing, well-seasoned and featuring tiny bits of oyster and freshly cut croutons. The dressing was crowned with a mound of the meat and then garnished with pickled blueberries and a sprig of baby celery, finally surrounded by a thin stream of gravy. The marriage of textures and tastes celebrated in my mouth, and while I found the dish to be astoundingly delicious I almost felt sorry for the Gastronauts who despite their fear factor would be faced with an aesthetically pleasing creation with a much muted nutria component. After expressing my extremely slight disappointment verbally, Chef Thomas expressed that if he had known about my exuberance in wanting to experience nutria in a simpler form he would have made a separate preparation, to which I jokingly replied, “No worries, I’ll just take these hind quarters”. Surprisingly, Thomas suggested I do just that, since it wasn’t going to be used and would probably just be thrown away.

The seared nutria ready to braise

The seared nutria ready to braise

Friend and fellow bizarrenivore Eddie Lin (who I had accompanied to the dinner) suggested we bring our catch back to his place, the site of numerous desecrations and defilements (such as grunion rings, bacon-wrapped bull pizzle and the infamous “dick-on-a-stick“) for a more basic preparation of the beast. Eddie did some additional butchering to allow us to sear the meat in a pot with grape seed oil, garlic, salt and pepper. After giving the flesh a nice char, we simply braised it in the finest Cabernet Sauvignon (Two-Buck Chuck, to be precise) for several hours until it emerged moist and tender from its dark and murky broth. The difference in flavor of the simply prepared meat and its Rockerfellered counterpart was like night and day. Each piece was about the size of a generous rib-in chicken breast and the flesh easily tore away from the bone. The wine enhanced the flavor but couldn’t mask the primal (almost swampy) aroma that rose from each bite and flavored the meat. While still maintaining the texture of pork or rabbit, the taste was unique and immediately hinted none-too-subtly at being a game meat. I’m not sure I would don some waders and a baseball bat to slosh through the bayou in search of my next rat-ratatouille, but having enjoyed the experience I would certainly try it again if the situation presented itself.

Man is its own worst enemy, wreaking havoc on the ecosystem and environment by introducing critters that have no business in a faraway land rich in natural resources, but literally turning the tables on the nutria eliminates a man-made problem while providing low cost, nutritious, high protein sustenance. For now, nutria is difficult to come by in Southern California, but I suppose there’s only room for one large rodent, especially one with red shorts and yellow shoes.

Villains Tavern
1356 Palmetto Street
Los Angeles, CA 91003
GPS Coordinates: 34° 2’24.34″N 118°13’51.03″W

GALLERY: See images from the L.A. Gastronauts’ Cajun Feast at Villains Tavern in Los Angeles

 

VIDEO: See Eddie Lin/KCRW Good Food’s video of Chefs Thomas and Haller preparing nutria:

 

VIDEO: Watch Val and Eddie Lin prepare braised nutria:

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When You’re Strange

Posted on January 18, 2012 by Val

Weird Food Festival XIII
Los Angeles, California

A bloody good toast, featuring goblets of blood

A bloody good toast, featuring goblets of blood

There is an old adage that one man’s meat is another man’s poison; in fact there are times when one man’s meat is the same man’s poison (in the case of fugu (blowfish), poke salad, mushrooms, etc.) Many Westerners (Americans in particular) recoil in disgust when reading about or watching the exploits of culinary adventurers who circumnavigate the globe looking for food that is wriggling, rotting or serves as an internal organ of some bizarre creature; television viewers peer through their fingers as contestants on programs like “Fear Factor” are subjected to eat animal eyes or live insects. Truth be told, as much as being a spectator to this apparent gastronomic death drive puts many of us in a heightened state of revulsion, there are places on earth where somebody is consuming these comestibles on a daily basis without a second thought.

WFF co-founder Marc Moss serves the green Jell-O

WFF co-founder Marc Moss serves the green Jell-O

Some of these culinary practices were borne of survival, having to make do with whatever was available; the recent “nose-to-tail” culture adopted by modern gastropubs is a throwback to a time when a family had to make a single animal provide sustenance for long periods of time. At some point in time, some castaway on a desert island decided that eating a lobster (the aquatic cousin to a scorpion) seemed a better option than death; workers in silk factories simply ate the silkworm pupae after unraveling the silk from the cocoon in an effort to improve endurance on the job. In this age of instantaneous global communication, we are being exposed to the culinary practices of other cultures that were previously only accessible to world explorers. There is a growing movement of people who not only embrace cross-cultural dining practices, but pursue them with an unbridled passion.

Eddie Lin brought tasty fried duck tongues from Hop Woo

Eddie Lin brought tasty fried duck tongues from Hop Woo

In 1999, Los Angeles foodophiles Marc Moss and Scott Ahlberg decided to hold an annual dinner with the intent of having the participants bring the most unusual dishes they could find or make, establishing the L.A. Weird Food Festival. More dinner party than fairground event, the Weird Food Festival challenged the group to get creative with members attempting to out-do each other with their gastronomic finds. Through author and radio/television food personality Eddie Lin, I was recently invited to join the group at their 13th annual dinner. Since this was my first year in attendance, I wanted to maximize my chances of getting a return invitation to next year’s event, and I knew that Fluffernutters and bacon-wrapped hot dogs weren’t going to cut it.

Val's llama liver with testicles

Val's llama liver with testicles

I recently obtained some llama meat from Exotic Meat Market in Perris, California and decided to utilize two of the more exotic cuts for my entry: the liver and testicles. I have never had any formal training as a chef, never worked in a restaurant’s kitchen, but I felt that with a little creativity I might just be able to put together a dish that would be unusual and flavorful at the same time. I decided to sear the liver, leaving it pink inside and use the testicle as a sauce or topping; I pan fried the chopped testicle with onion, cactus and grapes and added some Chilean wine and draped the mixture over the liver. I’m assuming this recipe hasn’t been used before since I made it up as I went, but I was hoping to create a dish that represented elements of the region where the llama calls home in South America.

WFF co-founder Levi Ahlberg asks, "Sea squirt, anyone?"

WFF co-founder Scott Ahlberg asks, "Sea squirt, anyone?"

The group is relatively small, but many of the participants brought multiple items. I knew it would be a challenge to present something unique – in past years, the Weird Food Festival diners have partaken of musk ox, beaver tail and lion, and that unusual collection of flora and fauna just scratches the surface. We started out with Eddie Lin’s entry, fried duck tongues procured from the subject of many a Trippy Food article, Chinatown’s Hop Woo. Having had Hop Woo’s version of the avian mouthpieces, I knew that they would be delicate, savory morsels requiring the same kind of oral finesse as chicken wings. Eddie had cautioned me about ordering them the first time based on his past experience with substandard quality at other restaurants, but Hop Woo’s met with his approval.

Periwinkles, tasty but a lot of work

Periwinkles, tasty but a lot of work

Some of the dishes only skirted categorization as weird; a green Jell-O mold would most likely be regarded as bizarre by other cultures, but since the item was featured in Eddie Lin’s Extreme Cuisine, it was in fair play. Although common, dolmas (stuffed grape leaves) are still considered unusual to many Americans and Marc Moss ensured they would meet the standards of the Weird Food Festival by appropriating dolmas marinated in pomegranate, which gave the vegetable-stuffed dish a sweet flavor as well as a deep, dark green color. Another variation on a theme was a warming, sweet pomegranate soup; although Marc wasn’t sure what type of grain was used, I detected the faint taste of lentils (it was difficult to tell since the fragrance and taste of pomegranate permeated the bowl.

Freaky fish sausage

Freaky fish sausage

We had almost overlooked a bowl of periwinkles provided by Scott Ahlberg that were already on the table; I used to see these tiny sea snails on the rocks at the beach in my childhood, but it never occurred to me to eat them. These delicate mollusks are tenderer and less oceanic tasting than their gastropodic cousins, but were likely to unseat crawfish as the seafood requiring the most amount of effort to extract meat from; once I got the hang of finding the little critter with a toothpick the pickings got better. Levi also provided the dish with highest degree of funk factor that evening – sea squirt. These animals belong to a group called Chordata and they almost defy classification; if ever there was a WTF moment in the development of aquatic life as food, the sea squirt handily wins every time. There are a variety of edible sea squirts, and unfortunately we didn’t know which bucket our snack fell into (or fell out of). The flesh is yellowish and somewhat rubbery with a taste that immediately evokes an ocean bottom-dwelling filtering animal; it has almost a caustic, chemical taste, but more curious than off-putting. Where the insidious little bastard gets you is in the aftertaste, a lingering funk that multiple swigs of North Korean soju can’t quash. Scott also attempted the British delicacy, jellied eel; unfortunately a miscalculation didn’t produced enough collagen to set the gelatin, but it didn’t have any effect on the flavor. The strangest-looking dish on a personal level was something that would probably be aesthetically pleasing to a child, a pink cigar-sized cylinder described as “fish sausage”. The aquatic tube steak had a flavor similar to gefilte fish, but I couldn’t explain the pink color; it seemed like a dish that might be manufactured and distributed en masse in the future, similar to Soylent green (I think I’ll call it Soylent pink).

A nightcap - a glass of blood

A nightcap - a glass of blood

After the funky feast, the group was told to expect a grand finale; Eddie Lin entered from the kitchen with a pitcher of what looked like sangria without fruit, but turned out to be sangre (blood). I can’t recall if the beverage was pork or beef blood, as I didn’t think to ask as my bottom jaw hit the table. A round of glass goblets were filled with the fluid, which we raised to drink a toast – it had to be the most apprehensive moment of the night, watching as the participants slowly and with great hesitation brought the cups to their lips. Take this and drink, indeed. A bowl of cooked blood resembling lumpy hot chocolate was also brought out but didn’t seem to generate any interest. While the fresh blood had a mild metallic taste, it was largely inoffensive; I expected the cooked blood to have an au jus flavor but with no fat in it there was only the taste of liquid chalk.

The Weird Food Festival was an event that I won’t soon forget and that I thoroughly enjoyed, not only for the unusual cuisine but also the spirited conversation about other cultures and their cuisine. I’m already anticipating next year’s and hoping that I receive a return invitation; the Weird Food festival is right up my alley, which gives me an idea for an entree for the next event.

Hop Woo
845 N. Broadway Blvd.
Los Angeles, CA 90012
GPS Coordinates: 34°3’48.88″N 118°14’16.05″W

Exotic Meat Market (online)
1-877-398-0141

GALLERY: See images from Val’s’ inaugural attendance at the 13th Annual L.A. Weird Food Festival

VIDEO: Watch Val make llama liver with testicles for Weird Food Festival XIII

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You Got Fins To The Left, Fins To The Right…

Posted on January 16, 2012 by Val

Shark fin soup

The result of 4 days' work

The result of 4 days' work

For hundreds of years, sharks fin soup has been a rare delicacy served at banquets, weddings and major social events; initially it was only enjoyed by Chinese emperors as a result of the intense and time-consuming effort to prepare the dish, as well as the risk and difficulty associated with obtaining the shark. The reign of this regal dish may be coming to an end, at least in the Golden State, due to the recent passage of California Assembly Bill 376. The bill as introduced would make it a criminal offense to own, sell or distribute a shark fin, although a provision in the law allows possession of the fin to anyone with a license to catch sharks (privately or commercially).  Although this seems contradictory, the provision implies that the shark will be taken in its entirety – the purpose of the law is to attempt to eliminate the barbaric practice of finning, where the fins are removed from the landed shark and the still-alive fish is unceremoniously dumped back into the sea to die of starvation or suffocation as a result of the inability to swim. The price on the open market for a single fin can go as high as several thousand dollars, which is the reason some fishermen simply don’t care to take up valuable real estate on board for the relatively cheap shark meat. Anyone who has purchased a shark fin for the purpose of making soup can use fins already in their possession provided they purchased or acquired it in 2011, and only through mid-2013.

The dried and separated shark fin

The dried and separated shark fin

Before you jump to the conclusion that Chinese chefs are sailing the ocean blue in pursuit of Jaws for the purpose of dismemberment, restaurants and chefs procuring the fins typically buy them in frozen or dried format. The dorsal (top) fin is the most sought-after, with the pectoral fins (the front ones that propel the shark) coming in a close second. Although the other fins are taken as well, these carry a smaller price tag because of their size – the larger the fin, the more expensive it is.

Chef Liang cooks sprouts for the bottom of the bowl

Chef Liang cooks sprouts for the bottom of the bowl

Although consummation of the soup is no longer limited to royalty, it’s a dish that still costs the proverbial king’s ransom. The preparation of the fin literally takes days, with the final product taking minutes to create. In most cases, the dried fin has already been cleaned with its tough skin removed and needs to be reconstituted in plain water. The fin is placed in water that has been boiled (never while the water is boiling) and left to soak overnight; this process is repeated over several days with fresh water until the flesh can be stripped off the cartilage in thin hair-like strands. To shorten the preparation time, the strands are sometimes dried and stored (in this state they’ll last months) to be reconstituted one last time before soup’s on.

Reconstituted, uncooked shark fin

Reconstituted, uncooked shark fin

Even once the shark “noodles” have been cooked they’re relatively tasteless, however, they have the uncanny ability to amplify the flavors of the other ingredients in the soup. The flavor is entirely derived from the stock – for the most part it is chicken-based with higher quality stock derived from simmering entire chickens, although a fancier restaurant may make a “high soup” using chicken, pork and occasionally seafood. To witness the final stages in the preparation of shark fin soup, I was honored to be invited to L. A. Chinatown’s Hop Woo, where the promise of dining like royalty awaited. California Assembly Bill 376 may not be the only cause of the soup’s demise, Chef Lupe Liang explained that making the soup is a dying art – young chefs don’t bother to take the time to learn how to properly make it from the old guard, making the soup an increasingly rare delicacy. Chef Liang demonstrated the final construction of the soup in the madness of the kitchen and invited us into the belly of the beast.

The shark fin with broth

The shark fin with broth

Hop Woo’s soup began with flash cooking white sprouts, which while still firm were placed on the bottom of the individual bowls; the reconstituted shark was then quickly cooked in the same manner and gently placed atop the sprouts in the bowl. The creation of the broth will vary drastically depending on the chef; Lupe started by browning cornstarch which acts as a thickener. He slowly added the stock (which was made with the shark cartilage, chicken, beef, ham, and spices) until the broth reached the look and consistency of brown gravy, at which time it was slowly poured over the sprouts and shark. As a finish, tiny shavings of special ham were sprinkled on top of the soup; Lupe mentioned that some preparations also finish the soup with chicken, depending on taste. We left the kitchen before the soup did, anxiously anticipating tasting the culmination of four days of work.

It's man-bites-shark time

It's man-bites-shark time

A dish as regal as shark fin soup deserves an elaborate presentation – the individual bowls we watched take shape in the kitchen were brought to the table in a warming dish made specifically for the soup. A ceramic bowl was placed in a gilded trivet with a Sterno burner beneath it; the bowl was covered with a ceramic lid that allowed the soup to reheat faster. Once the broth began bubbling, the Sterno was extinguished (with a gilded snuffer, naturally) and the lid was removed. Lupe suggested adding a dash of red vinegar to the soup, to give the brew a little bit of a kick. There wasn’t even the faintest aquatic aroma from the dish; the soup had a meaty, spicy fragrance. I maneuvered the spoon in a way to get a representative sampling of the broth with the sprouts, shark, and ham and was struck by the variety in textures over the taste. The sprouts still had some snap to them and the shark had the consistency of extremely al dente noodles or jellyfish with a delicate crunch to the teeth. The rich broth was warm all the way down and provided all the flavor of the soup, and I would have wondered exactly what shark tasted like had I not enjoyed shark steak on previous occasions.

I admit that I brandished a flash of guilt wondering how the fin was harvested, and although I don’t anticipate eating the soup regularly (while I’m legally able) I was fortunate enough to be invited to partake of this treasure and dine with Chef Liang knowing the labor intensive process required to make it. If shark fin soup has to become nearly extinct to prevent the wolf of the sea from perishing, so be it; I imagine the cost of legally harvested fins will go up, as will the black market price of contraband fins, but if the term “man eating shark” reverts back to the fish instead of the description of a shark fin soup connoisseur, I can live with that.

Hop Woo
845 N. Broadway Blvd.
Los Angeles, CA 90012
GPS Coordinates: 34°3’48.88″N 118°14’16.05″W

GALLERY: See images from Val’s visit to Hop Woo in L.A.’s Chinatown to watch the preparation of and enjoy shark fin soup

NOTE: This cost for this meal was provided by the restaurant. The content provided in this article was not influenced whatsoever by the organizer of the event.

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Little Italy

Posted on January 13, 2012 by Val

Novecento Pasta & Grill
Culver City, CA

The cozy Novecento Pasta and Grill in Culver City

The cozy Novecento Pasta and Grill in Culver City

Culver City can chew up restaurants and spit them out like a spoonful of cold Spaghetti-Os, so it takes brass coglioni to elbow your way between the big dogs and have any kind of staying power. In 1995, Angela Vianello managed to squeeze her laid-back Northern Italian bistro into a room’s width space and has managed to quietly flourish in Restaurant Row. Novecento Pasta and Grill defies categorization; the restaurant literally looks like someone put a roof over a brick-walled alley between a couple of Italian buildings. The bare, mismatched granite tabletops are furnished with paper placemats, a knife and fork to each side and a fan-shaped paper napkin at each setting. It’s an unpretentious, noisy and casual place that seems like the ideal place to kick back with friends right after work and enjoy a bite, a glass of wine and some spirited conversation.

There’s no bar; the libations aren’t stored in a climate controlled vault or on some rustic wooden rack decorated with plastic grapevines – bottles of wine are simply lined up on the counter at the end of the half-height glass walled kitchen. You won’t find mixologist Leo doing triple-gainers with flaming bottles here; in fact you couldn’t find a bartender at Novecento with a private detective. There are about eight international vintages on the wine list by the bottle or glass, with as many Italian wines available; I probably would have tried a nice Chianti but I couldn’t find liver and fava beans on the menu.

The spontaneous-looking dining room

The spontaneous-looking dining room

Also conspicuously absent was an Executive Chef; a single very friendly cook held down the kitchen duties, and in his glass cage there was no way to get away with cutting corners or cheating with pre-prepared food. Fresh baked bread that came to the table in spongy rectangles was cut off of a massive loaf on demand and served with an herbed olive oil that looked like chimichurri; since I was gunning for a substantial pasta dish I decided to avoid the temptation of going into carbohydrate overload. The waiter was patient and fielded my questions to the best of his ability; I asked him the significance of the restaurant’s name (“900” in Italian) and he responded that it represents the turn of the century. While this may be true, it would have been the turn of the century about a millennium ago, but I imagine millenovecentonovantacinque would have cost a fortune to the sign maker.

A green minestrone

A green minestrone

I decided to start out with soup; the menu offered two options – the obligatory minestrone or the zuppa del giorno (which I jokingly hoped aloud wasn’t Campbell’s cream of mushroom soup). When the waiter informed me that the soup of the day was cream of mushroom, I asked him which he thought was better. I was relieved when he suggested the minestrone, not because I actually entertained the thought of them serving Campbell’s soup, but because I couldn’t get that stupid image out of my head. The soup comes in two sizes, and though I could have sworn I ordered the small bowl, I was delivered a rather substantial portion that made me wonder if the large size came in a child’s wading pool. The minestrone was somewhat unusual in that it had a green hue to it; it was very aromatic, with a nose of leafy vegetables, parsley and basil. Most of the ingredients were green with nearly whole leaves of spinach, long green beans (instead of the usual white beans) and big chunks of zucchini; the few slices of carrot and cubes of potato seemed a mere afterthought. Also unusual was the choice of pasta – this was the first minestrone I’d ever had that contained elbow macaroni (described as “pasta tubes” on the menu). The vegetables were fairly cooked down almost to the point of dissolving; each spoonful gave the impression of drinking a fresh, green garden in the spring.

The oddly orange ravioli della Nonna

The oddly orange ravioli della Nonna

As in Italy, I was given the option of multiple courses – I only opted for a primi as the ample portions were extremely filling. It was almost a requirement that I try Novecento’s signature dish: the ravioli della Nonna. Loosely translated to “grandma’s ravioli”, I assumed this dish to be patterned after a recipe by Vianello’s grandmother. The dish contains vodka, but its application is somewhat confusing – the menu describes the inclusion of “onions flamed in vodka”; the web site states the ravioli is “marinated with vodka sauce” and our waiter stated that they apply a light dressing of vodka to the cooked ravioli before dousing with the sauce. The dish itself is a marvelous adventure – for starters, the menu promises “marinara sauce and a touch of cream” but I think in actuality they’re going for a pink sauce. What came to the table was a sea of orangey sauce containing big chunks of spinach flotsam and jetsam (my apologies if the description sounds unappetizing – I actually found the generous gobs of spinach in the sauce delightful). At the bottom of this salmon sea was a hefty portion of Goldilocks-approved pasta (not too firm, not squishy soft). Although every written description of this dish honestly conveys the ravioli being stuffed with spinach and ricotta, I was expecting some spinach dip-like blend but instead found the now omnipresent whole leaf bundle of spinach surrounded by a conservative measure of cheese. The ravioli cut well with a fork, and the spinach accounted for not only the predominant flavor but also an audible texture that added another dimension to the dish. The presence of the vodka was subtle with all the ingredients working in concert to create a memorable pasta dish.

Although full from the sizable portions, I couldn’t help asking if they had cannoli – with no pastry chef or Italian bakery on the premises, I couldn’t fault them for the negative reply. Novecento is a no-nonsense, bare-bones bistro that I would be happy to frequent with friends for a casual meal and a glass of wine. The odd brick and stone sculpture decor on the walls with the open kitchen at the end makes the restaurant a cozy, quirky neighborhood hangout, a nice place to go and get lost for a while. If you’ll be dining in a place resembling a closed alley, at least you won’t feel like you have to keep an eye on your wallet.

Novecento Pasta & Grill
3837 Main Street
Culver City, CA 90232-2619
GPS Coordinates:  34°1’28.70″N 118°23’40.64″W

GALLERY: See images from Val’s dinner at Novecento Pasta & Grill

NOTE: This cost for this meal was provided by the restaurant. The content provided in this article was not influenced whatsoever by the organizer of the event.

Little Italy

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