Where Concert Patrons Go: Patina

For my birthday, my girlfriend surprised me with a dinner downtown. We drove up to the Disney concert hall and I knew right away where we were going.

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As the namesake restaurant of the Patina Group, which includes such LA eateries as Cafe Pinot, Nick and Stef's, I had high expectations. First of all, what is a patina? It's the oxidized change in color on bronze over time. The reason the Statue of Liberty looks green--false patina. It's a concept I considered when we entered. The small dining room nestled into the Frank Gehry concert hall was comfortably lit and quiet for a late Sunday reservation. We arrived just as the show was starting; an hour earlier and it may have been packed. Our French waiter, yes he spoke French, explained the specials and signaled for the bread cart. Bacon bread--already a good sign.


The amuse of white asparagus and aioli paired with a hot carrot ginger soup certainly surprised me in contrast. The crunchy asparagus in a creamy sauce paired with the soup well, though I expected the carrots to have much more sweetness.


Although this was my birthday, the tasting menu didn't offer anything eye-popping enough. My girlfriend chose the agnolotti filled with buffala ricotta with English peas, braised scarlet turnip, and speck ham. I don't know if it's just a coincidence or if it's a generally accepted practice, but pairing agnolotti with ham is an incredible idea. David LeFevre of Water Grill had served a spectacular dish of agnolotti at the 5x5 dinner. The buffalo cheese gave the delicate pasta a heartiness otherwise absent in the thin wonton-like skins. I was puzzled by the presentation of what looked like a green lawn. The speck ham, what looks like bacon, is actually more like a smokier panchetta from an area between Austria and Italy.





For my first course, I cheated and chose the Quartet of the Sea consisting of four immaculate square plates locked into formation. From the top: smoked trout blini, seared scallop with cipollini onions, lobster citrus salad, and tuna tartare with pickled cauliflower. The trout was much more refreshing than the all-too-often used salmon in this preparation. Grapefruit and orange garnished the lobster salad, though the color reminded me too much of ambrosia (a turnoff). I am a huge fan of seared scallops, and this was no exception. I also see cippolini onions so often at these kind of dinners. Apparently, they have a higher sugar content and the small, flat shape is conducive to roasting. Tuna tartare has been done to death, though the intensely tart cauliflower gave it a contrasting crunch that was innovative.


What makes a veal chop "authentic"? According to our waiter, grain-fed veal is "authentic." But isn't that how all veal is fed? My girlfriend's authentic veal chop with sauteed sweetbreads, maple syrup glazed cipollini onions, and chanterelles tasted better than it looked. The mushrooms were richly buttered and had enough bite to savor each forkful.


One of the reasons that my significant other chose Patina was for the game menu, which varies depending on availability. That night, I ordered the rack of venison with braised chestnuts, celeriac mousseline, and a pink peppercorn quince chutney. Though the smell of the plate had all the intensity of game, the flavor was quite a bit tamer. I'm familiar with the practice of combining gamey meats with fruity compotes, but I always feel like my preference for gamer is much wilder than the average palate. With the exception of elk, gamey is always my choice.



Though my girlfriend rounded off her meal with a coconut soup with a floating island of pistachio ice cream and spherified mango juice "gnocchi" I asked to see the cheese cart instead. We enjoyed the presentation of her dessert, the components sitting in a saucer that's subsequently filled by the waiter. Those little flourishes certainly make the meal more memorable. Having consumed a pack of Red Vines per day at work, I had enough sugar in my system. I settled on a triple-creme brie, a hard Italian pecorino, and a strong roquefort. My waiter actually wasn't much help in explaining the cheeses. By this time in the meal, he had seemed to ignore our table and favored the French speaking tables instead. I hate to perpetuate stereotypes, but the rude French waiter certainly still persists.



As a post-dessert treat, we received a tray of mignardises and a napkin basket of chocolate and vanilla Milano cookies. From left to right, I think the plate consisted of a cocoa nib, passionfruit gelee, orange marshmallow, cashew twill tuile, truffle, and carrot macron. I could eat a million macarons, except they're always so expensive. Does anyone mass-produce these awesome almond pastries?

Stuffed and finished with the food portion of our meal, the manager was kind enough to take us on a tour of the kitchen. Unfortunately, Joachim Splinchal wasn't in the kitchen, but I met his sous chef Santiago instead. He explained the various prep areas of the rather large kitchen. It looked straight out of my Culinary Institute of America textbook. What struck me the most was that the kitchen was almost half the size of the dining room and still heavily staffed.

My overall impression of Patina was that I didn't feel like I belonged there. It caters to the concert hall patrons, the stuffy old white men. As out of place as I was, I noticed an Asian man scurrying his family out from a dinner too expensive to bring children. That's when it hit me. If patinas are meant to convey antiquity, this restaurant definitely has that old-world feel. Patina's certainly not part of the hot LA dining scene, but it could be a dependable standby. Plus a Michelin star doesn't hurt.

Patina
141 South Grand Ave
Downtown, 90012
(213) 972-3331
About $200 for the meal...and $8 for parking

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The Omnivore's Dilemma by Michael Pollan

Like the proud lion, I step into my savannah, the cool air of the dusk wafting beneath my mane. I search diligently through the harsh terrain for that perfect prey, the one that I will rend from its bones and satisfy that deep primordial urge to consume. There, out of the corner of my predatorial eye, I see it. I circle, searching for the supreme angle to pounce. I leap, and crash on...a gigantic ear of corn? I peak up, startled, suddenly all I can see is gigantic stalks of corn rising up staight and uniform. I am surrounded. The golden ears loom over me, falling from their husks and burying me in a pile of yellow kernels.

The harsh reality of my supermarket experience sets in. I may never have to forage or kill for my meal; searching through the aisle of the local megamart is our modern equivalent of the hunt. However, after reading The Omnivore's Dilemma, I can never see the things I eat in the same way again.

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How much thought do you give to your meal? It's certainly a question too often avoided by the hungry masses. Why do we eat the things we eat, and should we be paying more attention to its impact? Those are the types of questions that Michael Pollan brings to the forefront in Omnivore's Dilemma. Having societally evolved to the point where food is over plentiful, we need to shift the emphasis from quantity to quality. We are literally what we eat; therefore, we owe our bodies due care in deciding how we refuel.

A good friend introduced me to Pollan's writing in an editorial addressed to the President Elect last October in the New York Times. It's a rather lengthy read, but it summarizes many of the relevant points of Omnivore's Dilemma. Having been introduced to this fascinating examination of the agricultural-industrial complex in America, I bought the book. As you may have heard me espouse before, since everyone eats, I believe food should be everyone's priority in life. Given its prominence, food has too often fallen to the wayside of people's complex modern lives. When convenience has triumphed over taste and nutrition, there needs to be a counter force to fight the indolence we have fallen into.

Whether trolling through the forests of Northern California hunting wild boar or visiting a corn farmer in Iowa, Pollan never ceases to bring the focus back to what's on everyone's mind--what's on our plates. Reading the irresponsible business practices and unsanitary conditions of Fast Food Nation had no where near the profound effect on my eating habits as Omnivore's Dilemma. The author's tone is never condescending; it appeals to a rational mind much more than the emotional one. Even the chapter on vegetarianism even gave me second thoughts about my carnivorous habits (albeit a momentary thought). Ultimately, if humankind has evolved beyond the point of subsistence eating, then we should also be smart enough to make healthy, sustainable choices with our food.

Pollan takes the reader through an exploration of food through three parts, each centering on a different aspect of the modern plate. The first detailed the rise of corn as a commodity and its importance in the agricultural world. The revelations in this part are what inspired my hallucinations of violent corn burial. While corn has done a great deal to advance American society, its detriments are too numerous now to be ignored. As much as Pollan vilifies malicious maize, we couldn't have progressed to the current level of overabundance without it. Just be forewarned, after reading this section, you'll be constantly scanning ingredient labels for high fructose corn syrup and other corn derivatives.

On the other side of the big agricultural complex, the second part is focused on the small farm. More precisely, the small sustainable grass farm, which relies on solar energy and not fossil fuels. It isn't organic, and Pollan explains why that may be a good thing to boast. By following the "grass farmer," the reader gets a sense that all is not lost. If only the rest of the nation could follow suit; there is another way to eat better.

Lastly, the author pursues his own meal in through hunting and foraging. "The Ethics on Eating Animals" chapter is profound and thought-provoking. Anything that can make me reconsider meat is certainly formidable. I won't go through all the arguments, but basically if you eat meat, you must accept a certain degree of "specism". The idea that we can eat at the expense of suffering animals isn't the most appealing, but it's important for the conscience of the meat eater. Just as in The Shameless Carnivore, eat meat if you want, but please eat responsibility by trying to prevent as much suffering as you can.

There are far too many concepts in this book to bring to full attention in a short blog entry. I can only advise you, as serious foodies, and even as conscionable human beings, give Ominvore's Dilemma a read. At the very least, read Pollan's editorial in the NY Times. You might not like what you see, but it's the hard truths that are most difficult to swallow.

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Sanitized Chicken: Honey's Kettle in Culver City

Inspired by Tony's Fried Chicken Civil War, I thought I might share my own Honey's Kettle experience. Except I didn't venture into Compton to get my deep fried poultry, not because I was scared to go, but because Culver is right next to my friend's Battlestar Galactica party. If you haven't been watching BSG, you should; if you haven't been to Honey's Kettle, then go immediately.

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As I said, I wouldn't be scared away from food by the neighborhood. Anyone who has had decent soul food can tell you it's best served from behind bullet-proof glass. But for hipsters looking for a taste of the wild side without leaving the comfort of the Westside, Culver City's Honey's Kettle is perfect.


Even before LA Magazine crowned Honey's the "best fried chicken" in LA, I've been meaning to try it. As a lifelong fan of fried chicken, seemingly irreconcilable terms given the shortened life span, I would gladly check out any place that's good enough to move out of the hood. Hopefully, the Jeffersons of the chicken world is just as amazing as its Compton counterpart. I knew I had to get three things to properly evaluate Honey's--a drumstick, coleslaw, and a biscuit.


Normally, I don't choose extra crispy at KFC because I don't believe in fluff. Every part of the perfect fried chicken, meat, skin, batter, and even bone must be essential to the finished product. Double battering and frying at KFC doesn't add anything but fat. At Honey's the fried coating is different, enhancing the texture and flavor. The skin was crisp, not detracting from the flavor of the meat. I settled on a thigh and leg, and for those of you who only eat white meat, you're banished from eating poultry ever again. White meat is as close to bare sustenance as you should get. Of course, my disdain for white-meat is well documented. However, perhaps Honey's chicken is just juicy enough that the white meat may be somewhat palatable too.

The coleslaw and pickles were nothing to write about, which is a shame since my guilty pleasure is KFC coleslaw. I've been trying to find something to wean me off such a nasty habit, but so far nothing has the consistency and comfort of that industrial slop. The biscuits however, can only be captured by trying one yourself. There may have been an entire stick of butter in each biscuit to get that tenderness, but it certainly wasn't weighed down by fat. Biting into each tasty morsel delivered made me feel things that biscuits shouldn't make me feel. We'll leave it at that. Oh, and there were fries.


The best picture I could get with my iPhone

Honey's Kettle
9537 Culver Blvd,
Culver City, 90232
(310) 202-5453
$19 for 4 thighs, 4 legs, a pint of coleslaw, 4 biscuits, fries
Park at the Cardiff parking garage for two hours free

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The Bazaar by Jose Andres at SLS

A week after my DineLA inauguratory dinner at the Bazaar in the SLS Hotel, I still don't quite know what to think about the restaurant. What is it that makes it a "bazaar"? There aren't any famous bazaars in Spain. Perhaps the 24 karat golden squirrel coin bank or the $1,000 paparazzi photos that HC pointed out constituted a bazaar. I briefly contemplated the reaction my waiter would have if I tried to haggle the price of the jamon Iberico. But how is this supposed to be a reflection of the food. As I found out that night, the Bazaar is more of a description of the atmosphere than the food, which is most of the reason I'd go there anyway.

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If rich people ever shopped at a bazaar, I wonder if they'd still appreciate the bargaining and haggling as much. I sure felt like a shopper looking for the best combination that my DineLA $44 would get me. My choice of three tapas, a "Philly" cheesesteak, and a choice of dessert for $44 would only be a deal if I looked at the more expensive selections. Therefore, most of my picks, and those of my companions, were seafood heavy.

We did opt for the jamon Iberico de bellota made of acorn-fed Spanish pigs because, how could we not? Mattatouille refers to jamon Iberico as pork crack. Indeed, that sandy texture of cured meat is one I could keep in my mouth forever. Almost as good as Ore's culatello at Totoraku.

Perhaps the division of the menu into "rojas" and "blancas" was meant to reflect proper wine pairing, but I chose almost indiscriminately based on price. While that may be a terrible thing to say for a foodie, I was here for a deal and it was Chinese New Year after all. If I'm not going to get proper Chinese food, I was going to get my money's worth.

Hence the obligatory canned king crab with raspberries and raspberry vinegar, the most expensive "canned" item. While the raspberries were a refreshing touch, the crab lacked any deep flavors of its own. In fact, the fruit overwhelmed the shellfish, which made the entire dish somewhat off. Several other seafood items including kumamoto oysters, mussels and scallops were available in tin also. According to the menu, Spain is one of the foremost canning regions, and this was Chef Andres' ode to the rich tradition. However, none of the items are actually canned; they're merely served in a tin.

How would you make a fancy Philly cheesesteak? I don't know how many people would reply by filling air-bread with cheese and topping it with rare slices of Wagyu beef. Imagine biting into a savory puff pastry filled with melted cheese.

I can't say I only chose the expensive items. Having made sure the total of my selections surpassed $44, I chose the watermelon tomato skewers with Pedro Ximenez reduction for something more experimental. Pedro Ximenez is a white grape and sweet dessert wine, though the dish's flavors were dominated by the fruit. I was caught in the balance between the acidity of the tomato and the sweetness of the watermelon. Both seemed to benefit from the other, even if they were vying for my palate's affection.

Ah, by now you've probably realized that it takes just as much stamina to get through a Bazaar review as it does a dinner. Although I can't enthrall you nearly as much as Kevin can. My sea scallops with Romesco sauce were tasty, but not very particular. The Catalonian sauce derived from almonds, hazelnuts, roasted garlic and tomatoes sounds much more interesting than it tasted. I got a nutty flavor from this common Spanish sauce, but it paled in comparison to Alain Giraud's pistachio emulsion scallops.

Those were my selections for the night, but our table had plenty more visual treats.

Mini steamed uni buns

Tiny foie gras sliders

Lamb loin with foraged mushrooms and pureed potatoes

Clockwise from center: tomato and olive oil toast, jamon Iberico de Bellota, tzatziki sauce for the sweet potato chips, and an over-eager eater

Lobster medallions

And food porn picture of the year: hanger steak


Dessert was done right with just as many choices to keep things interesting.

My floating island nitro-inflated coconut puff with passionfruit syrup gradually deflated as we dug into the rest of the sweets.

A visit to the Bazaar is fairly incomplete without looking through their cocktail menu. My Jose Andres' Gimlet had an entire lime floating in the center, while my girlfriend's Magic Mojito was strained over cotton candy. Among some other unique cocktail accouterments were chocolate ice, salt foam, spherified olive juice and liquid nitrogen caipirinhas. For $16 a drink, choosing the flashiest presentation may be the best way to spend your money.

As I first mentioned, most of the fun of the Bazaar experience is in the decorations, the furniture screaming for attention. One note about the men's bathroom--the walls are all mirrors. I don't know if that does it for some people, but I don't need to see myself from three angles while taking care of business. I also don't need anyone who walks into the restroom to be privy to the aforementioned sight. There some hits, but also a few misses. For example, I'd avoid the toro nigiri on watermelon with soy foam. Still, Bazaar is quite a dining experience, full of all the commotion of a real bazaar. Just don't expect a bargain.

The Bazaar by Jose Andres
SLS Hotel at Beverly Hills
465 S La Cienega Blvd
Los Angeles, 90048
(310) 246-5567
thebazaar.com
$44 DineLA menu, $36 for Jamon Iberico, $16 cocktails, $10 valet

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"The Single Best Thai Restaurant in North America"

Not my words, Jonathan Gold's. But as the resident LA critic extraordinaire, Gold's recommendation certainly warranted an investigation. So on my post-new year's trip to Vegas, I convinced my friends to go Lotus of Siam. I can't say if S. Irene Virbila's claim "that there's nothing as good--or lip-numbingly hot in LA" is true since I haven't properly explored Thai Town in North Hollywood, but I can say that Lotus of Siam can be worth the trip.

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I'll be the first to admit that I don't know enough about Thai food. I like the flavors in the cuisine, but I really don't have the exposure to write on it with any sort of authority. So when HC tipped me off about Lotus of Siam, I was slightly concerned that I wouldn't know good Thai food even while breathing in the rich aromas of lemongrass, tamarind, and the obligatory fish sauce. On that note, I came into the restaurant with a group of eight and just asked the waitress to give us her best recommendations.



As this was an impromptu trip, I apologize for the iPhone pictures. Our waitress brought out a platter of golden koong sarang, wonton and bacon wrapped prawns, perhaps their best dish of the night. I knew things were off to a good start as soon as I crunched into those crispy shrimp. You know the old spiel, "anything wrapped in bacon..." The grilled seabass papaya salad made me feel much better about the appetizer. There's always an accompanying guilt when eating things so indulgent as bacon shrimp, but the purity of the white fish on clean greens also did something to cleanse my spirit.


Although I asked for a soup tom yum soup, the waitress told me she'd being out the seafood soup pictured above. I'm not sure if this was a seafood tom yum or if it's some sort of different soup base altogether. Either way, it was hot and filled the mouth with a longing for another spoonful. On one of my friend's requests, we ordered the beef panang curry, which had a delightful richness of coconut milk and herbacious Thai basil.



I wasn't too excited with the crab fried rice. I couldn't taste nor see any crab pieces in the dish. The flavor wasn't especially memorable either. Maybe their pineapple fried rice would've been a better bet. Seeing the nua sao renu charbroiled beef with tamarind sauce on the online menu inspired me to order the same for our table. It may just look like a mountain of meat, but it's actually pre-sliced and easy to pick up. It was probably oversauced given the quality of the beef though.


Not quite full, we added fried garlic prawns after a request for more shrimp. I had never seen shrimp prepared this way, partially shelled, but still attached at the tail and then deep fried. It resulted in a sort of molting shrimp with edible shell. I still couldn't get through more than one shell though, it's too crunchy and indigestible. We additionally had the crispy duck over drunken noodles, another star for the night. The long flat pad se-ew noodles soaked up the sauce of the duck.


Our dessert of sticky rice, fried bananas and coconut ice cream was a well-rounded plate designed to bring those three components together. Different textures, such as the silky ice cream and the sticky rice contrasted with the crunchy batter of the bananas.

Now when I say that Lotus of Siam is worth a trip, I didn't necessarily mean a drive from Los Angeles. It's certainly worth a dinner from anywhere on the Strip (being about 3 miles off-Strip). But I wouldn't leave California for this food with the diverse Thai options here in town. Still, I wouldn't consider a foodie's visit to Vegas without a meal at "the best Thai restaurant in North America."

Lotus of Siam
953 E Sahara Avenue
Las Vegas, NV 89104
(702) 735-3033
Sapinchutima.com
Reservations are best at least a day in advance, of course hardly anything in Vegas is so well-planned
$200 for eight people

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RumDood's Rum Tasting Beta

Being a food blogger gives me certain opportunities. Sure, I get PR updates from restaurants and other events in the area, but it's the fantastic network of eaters (and drinkers in this case) that I value the most. Last week, I had the privilege of attending RumDood's inaugural rum tasting event in his home. That photo above is just one of Matt's sagging countertops bearing the weight of prodigious bottles of liquid merriment. Of course, an impromptu potluck and collection of other food friends ensured the night would end well...even if it ended at the Chapman General ER. No, no one had alcohol poisoning from the rum, but I'd be lying if I said it wasn't alcohol related.
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I recently surpassed a hundred entries in this Food Destination/Gilded Palate blog; over the course of nine months or so, I'd say that's pretty successful. Readership, that's another matter. However, this blog is as much for me as it is for anyone else, and in researching (aka eating) I have learned so much about cuisine and LA in general. One area that I feel I have slightly neglected is the "drinking" side of eating, drinking and being happy. I developed a taste and appreciation for sake at Tokyo Table and a respect for wine at Totoraku, but harder liquor has proved elusive for me. Of course, when I say "respect for wine" I mean in the sense of drinking so much of it that I overwhelm my initial dislike. Yet, wine, sake and beer are beverages that one can enjoy in moderation and for which someone can develop preferences. To develop a taste for rum, I needed expert guidance.

Enter Matt, the RumDood himself. An invitation arrived in my mailbox for a long drive down to Orange County for what could only be night of informative lecture, Q&A, and enough rum to make your eyeballs float. Sure enough, I was greeted with a Dark & Stormy, my new drink of choice. Rum, ginger beer, and a twist of lime--simple, manly enough, and drinkable. Note: ginger beer is not the same as ginger ale; please do not confuse the two.


We sat down to a superstar of a rum; the Ron Zacapa Centanario apparently has won so many awards that the mere mention of it would send Cap' Mo to the bottom of Davey Jones' locker. Indeed, as a non-sipper, I had an easy time drinking this rum straight. Now I could go through the explanation of the solera aging process, the Guatemalan mountains from which it came, or the difference between distilling sugar cane honey versus molasses, but Matt explains it so much better in his own review. My impressions were certainly smooth and sweet, a pleasant spirit to drink neat.



On the opposite side of the spectrum, the Pusser's British Navy Rum and Clement VSOP, British and French styles respectively, were much harder to down. They were mostly too hot to really discern any characteristic flavors beyond burning. Ah, the n00b trying to explain something way over his head. While the Zacapa had a fruity personality, the Pusser's and Clement were metallic and vegetal. If this was the kind of rum that the British navy used to serve its sailors, I have a newfound respect for these manliest of men.


Matt next walked us through an explanation of the barrel aging process of certain types of rum using the Appleton Estates line of Jamaican rums as examples. Rums start white and take on darkening shades after years of sober waiting. Their flavors also mellow out and the alcohol becomes much less harsh. As I tasted these Appleton rums, starting with the youngest V/X (five-ten years), then the 12, and finally the 21 year rum, I could feel each one progressively easier to drink. While the youngest would be best as a mixer, I could see myself taking the oldest one neat or on the rocks.


Lastly, we tried El Dorado 21, an older rum without rich complexities. It still drank very well, and had hints of cherries.


Rum Master Matt explaining the importance of proper rum tasting glassware

After the tasting,we lounged with some "real mai tais". That's when we started rummaging through the endless bottles, looking for other drinks of interest. Unfortunately, my interest was in the green Obsello Absinthe bottle in the bottom left corner of the first photo. We couldn't get it open, so eventually we settled on the La Fee instead. Matt was kind enough to walk me through the entire sugar cube process, which makes such a high proof spirit much more palatable. As I'm no cocktail expert, I'll just explain what I think I saw.

1. Place sugar cube on slotted spoon set over a stout glass.
2. Pour about a shot of absinthe over the sugar.
3. Light cube on fire (and turn off lights for some glowing green effects)
4. Drop sugar into absinthe and pour six parts of water.

With the drink so watered down, it tasted like lightly flavored black licorice. I was a little let down by the hype surrounding absinthe, but my ruminations were cut short when people started panicking. In a valiant effort to get through the wax seal of the Obsello, Fiona had lost the fight with a chef's knife. On a side note, that's the same chefs knife that came with my parents' sushi set--nice knife, obviously sharp. Luckily, we got Fiona to the hospital without serious incident.

It truly was an eventful evening. As always, good food company leads to fun times. I certainly had my horizons broadened, and I am extremely thankful to RumDood for his hospitality. I'll forever drink to him when I reach for my rum. And yes, I'll forgo the Bacardi from now on with so much better out there.

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Asa-tisfying Bowl of Ramen

After my disappointing Indian experience at Addi's Tandoor in Torrance, I was ready to give up on the South Bay. Of course, inomthings put me back on track, explaining that I was just not looking in the right places. She rattled off an exciting list of Japanese places for me to check out. Seeing as how I'm frequently driving down there anyway, it was time for me to check one of them out.

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It's not like I didn't know that there was outstanding Japanese food around Torrance. My trips to Musha and Izakaya Bincho (formerly Yakitori Bincho) were incredible, some of the favorite restaurants in LA. In fact, Asa is next to Sanuki no Sato an excellent udon-ya.


Having heard that ramen and takoyaki are the two things that Asa does best, I couldn't say no to either. Nor could I say no to this wonderful juicy chicken karaage. Fried nice and fluffy, it felt wholesome to put in my mouth without that repulsive slick of too much oil.



For the octopus, we chose mochi cheese takoyaki. For those unfamiliar, it is pieces of octopus battered, fried, and topped with sauce and bonito shavings. I'm not knowledgeable enough about takoyaki to make this claim definitively, but this felt like the bacon-wrapped hotdog of the fried octopus ball world. Biting into one of these morsels instantly brought back childhood memories of pulling the gooey strands off an extra cheese pizza. After this, I don't know if I can ever go back to mozzarella sticks.


Coming off my lackluster trip to Daikokuya, it took me a few weeks for my spirit (and my stomach) to crave ramen again. Daikokuya's ramen is NOT THAT GOOD. Yes, all you otaku fanboys can curse me in broken Japanese. But have a bowl at Asa and tell me that its ramen doesn't pwn Daikokuya. The noodles were thin, yet firm. Both the light assari style and heavy kotteri broths had a rich shoyu flavor and a ton of umami. The soup makes you smack your lips twice after the last drop is gone. I liked the bamboo shoots, which offered some texture contrast, but the chasu was irresistible. Maybe they don't use Berkshire kurobuta pork like Daikokuya claims, but I could easily go the rest of my life without having another one of those oinkers in my ramen if I could have Asa chasu instead.

Ultimately, I would go back to Asa because their ramen does what ramen should do. It is a comforting bowl that warms the body and makes me happy. If your ramen doesn't do that, then you know where to go.

Asa Ramen
18202 S Western Ave
Gardena, 90248
(310) 769-1010


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