Savor Scottsdale: Stax Burger Bistro

I'm being sent where? I know my work is relatively transient; I work a few weeks at a client before grabbing my laptop and heading out again. In fact, I don't even have a desk. When I go into the downtown office, I have to "hotel" a cubicle. But so far, my work has kept me around Los Angeles. Sometime in January, I was told that I was being sent to Arizona to help with an audit. Although I'm now stuck in Scottsdale for the workweek, I'm armed with a $59 per diem and free breakfast buffet. That's quite a bit of change to explore Scottsdale's dining scene.

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Of course, I'd be much more enthusiastic if Arizona actually had a dining scene. As a relatively newly populated area with little but white retirees, Scottsdale has a dearth of novel restaurants. Everywhere I turn, I'm confronted by imported Los Angeles and national chains. On my commute from the hotel to the client site, I pass a Flemmings, Houstons, Fogo de Chao, Mastro's, PF Chang's, McCormick's, and at least a dozen other casual-to-upscale restaurants you'd recognize. I've decided that due to the lack of diversity and youth, there's only a market for recognizable brands of the same boring food. Steak is the lay of the land, even in an area too dry to support cattle. Also, apparently old white people like sushi; though I still wouldn't trust raw fish so far inland.

That's why I decided to write a series on places actually worth trying out if you're ever on some corporate retreat out in the middle of the Sonoran Desert. Leave the chains; there's more to be tasted.

Hence, the first of my Scottsdale recommendations:

Stax Burger Bistro
4400 N Scottsdale Rd
Scottsdale, AZ 85251
(480) 946-4222
~$4 a slider

On recommendation from a coworker previously sent to this client, I went to Stax after work one night. Things were dying down by that time Thursday night. The location was in "Oldtown" Scottsdale, which only signifies that the buildings are five years older than the rest of town. Across the street from Saddlehouse Ranch, yes there's one here too, is a burger bar specializing in three-ounce sliders.

Though the server may tell you to order three sliders per person, I'd stick with two sliders and split a few sides. The sweet potato fries with various dipping sauces is a great choice. Each sauce is only $.25, so go crazy with the chipotle aioli, red pepper aioli, honey mustard aioli, jalapeno aioli, or just plain ketchup. The mac & cheese and buttered corn were mediocre. Actually, seeing "corn off the cob" on the menu made me think they just uncanned a Jolly Green Giant and melted a stick of butter into a bowl.

The restaurant really shines with its namesake sliders. Although I was bummed that they were out of the exotic sliders (made with boar, ostrich, venison, or whatever cheap wild meat they have that week), the three I chose were plenty satisfying. In the picture above, from foreground to back, I got an original beef slider with caramelized onions, mushrooms, and cheddar, a lamb slider with feta cheese, grape tomatoes and tabouli, and a kobe slider with asparagus. My verdict: order the first two, ditch the last. The kobe burger was a novelty at best; and from a taste test, did not have the marbling of real Wagyu. The lamb was my easily my favorite though. For the lamb lover, the intense flavor of the animal permeated my mouth with the first bite. Ground lamb is an unfortunate rarity in this country, so when you can find it, make sure to indulge.

At a burger bar like this, you can expect a fine selection of beers. With this kind of food, nothing pairs better. My local Tempe brewed Four Peaks Kilt Lifter Ale was no exception.

This is my second week in Scottsdale so far. Stax was one of the first restaurants to show me that there's might be something to eat in this town after all. But over the last few days, I've found a few more that I'd love to share. Support the independent restaurants!

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South Bay Japanese Marathon

What do bloggers do in their free time? We eat; that's a given. But we also meet up to eat. In this case, we journeyed the South Bay one Saturday afternoon, searching for our Japanese fix.

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Organized by the multi-talented Fiona of Gourmet Pigs, this marathon had been in the making since our last expedition into the concrete Jungle. We teamed up with Javier the "Teenage" Glutster, Mattatouille, Choisauce, RumDood, Pepsi Monster, and budding blogger Danny for this trip. My girlfriend Yoko proved essential for some of the translations and the photos on this entry.



First stop: Gaja for okonomiyaki, a type of Japanese crepe/griddle cake. Made from yam flour, filled with ingredients, and fried on a teppan, this was my first experience at an okonomiyaki-ya. Thanks to the hot tip from I Nom Things, we were able to discover this fun DIY place. She even has several recipes if you want to try it at home. Of course, if you can't figure out the Japanese instructions, you can also get help from the friendly staff. Remember to proclaim "Yes!" in a tone as to indicate to your waiter your satisfaction for his efforts.

Here's the waiter helping with spicy cod roe, mochi, cheese monja-yaki, a creamier, more gooey relative of the okonomiyaki. The monja-yaki is fried to form a crust, but then mashed and eaten with individual spatulas. This particular monja-yaki had the miniature texture of the cod roe and the runny mochi and cheese.

Pre-cooked

Not terribly appetizing in appearance, but fun to eat nonetheless


Our Modern Mix Okonomiyaki had beef, squid, oysters, noodles, egg and preserved ginger, a seemingly odd mix, but formed a satisfying pie. Topped with the special sauce, Kewpie mayonnaise and bonito flakes, this could easily make a decent meal for the hungry traveler. Unfortunately, the life of a marathoner is tough; it was one slice, then out the door for our next stop.



Second stop: Patisserie Chantilly, a delightful Japanese desserts shop. The picture at the top of the page is from Chantilly. Our large group rolled in and took over the small place. We laid down $3 each and partook in a foodie communism experiment. A communal order of three macarons; black sesame, vanilla, and chocolate profiteroles; passionfruit mousse; cheesecake souffle; cheesecake bar; chocolate tart; and a white sesame blanc manger was put down and quickly devoured. Luckily, Pepsi Monster bought additional treats and donated it to the still hungry citizens. Funny how even in desserts, communism doesn't work.






If given the chance, make sure to try the souffle fromage, it is cheesecake heaven; at least you'll feel like you're eating clouds.


After a failed stop at Otafuku, our valiant troupe ended up at Hakata Ramen. Given that our soba stop fell through, we entered into a furious debate over a suitable replacement (I only say furious because at this point we were starting to get hungry again). Before our table was ready, we hopped back into the caravan and drove down to Ichimiann Bamboo Garden for homemade soba

It certainly doesn't take much to constitute a "bamboo garden." But I guess if it took acres of bamboo to be considered a forest, pandas wouldn't be so endangered. Of course I quickly got over the lack of foliage when I sat down to my platter of cold zaru-soba, a refreshing mound of buckwheat noodles served with accompanying dipping sauce. I found each noodle to have springy integrity...chewy, a little before al dente. According to Matt, the sauce is mixed with soba water afterwards and drank. I preferred the brown rice tea instead.




Last stop: Izakaya Bincho, the charming mom and pop restaurant with extremely demanding chef/owner. On that day, the staffing situation was even worse. With a sick wife, the husband manned the entire place by himself. Although it's not unheard of for him to turn away customers, the restaurant stayed especially empty that night. This was my first visit since its closure last year as a yakitori. The tsukune chicken meatballs, which were godly last time, disappointed this time, probably due to the lack of bincho charcoal. Juicy as usual, but there just was no depth of flavor you'd get with the ashy charcoal. Instead, the braised pork belly shined. Despite the overexposure of pork belly these days, the chef managed to bring out the melty texture of the pork and supplement it with a rich braising sauce. He doesn't rely just on the fat of the dish as so many restaurants do. In fact, the long braising time made the whole slab fall apart enough to eat with a spoon. The tebasaki fried chicken wings with sweet and spicy sauce stole the show. Amazing flavors hit me all at once, intense at first, but gradually fading and lingering on the palate. The wings were deep-fried, but they didn't weigh me down. All I could feel was the crispy skin and the sticky sauce. With the decline of the tsukune, I believe the tebasaki is the new gotta-have-it dish. Though I will still give runner-up position to the agedashi tofu. The chef's dashi shows amazing care in its umami complexity. Plus large slabs of silken tofu make this a hearty dish for tofu.

Braised pork belly

Tebasaki (Deep-fried chicken wings)

Agedashi Tofu

As I've settled into my home in LA, I've found so much diversity in the cuisine. I don't know if there's anywhere else in the world with so many ethnic options within driving range. With denser communities, they start to blend and lose some of their uniqueness within each cuisine. LA's just large enough that you can find places that just specialize in okonomiyaki, Japanese desserts, soba and izakaya. We have so much at our fingertips; it's a shame if you don't take advantage of it. I appreciate that I can have a Japanese food marathon without even once mentioning sushi. That's the kind of dining city that LA is.

Gaja
gajamoc.com
2383 Lomita Blvd, Ste 102,
Lomita, 90717
(310) 534-0153
$18 per okonomiyaki though that can probably feed 3-4

Patisserie Chantilly
patisseriechantilly.com
2383 Lomita Blvd, Ste 10
Lomita, 90717
(310) 257-9454
$3-4 each dessert

Ichimiann Bamboo Garden
ichimiann.com
1618 Cravens Ave
Torrance, 90510
(310) 328-1323
$6 a bowl

Izakaya Bincho
112 N International Boardwalk
Redondo Beach, 90277
(310) 376-3889
Get here early on a non-weekend and pray for a seat
~$20 per person if you're eating at the end of a marathon

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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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