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11 Mar

Last year for annual mistress day, Bubby took me to Melisse. And if you remember, Melisse did not deliver the 2 Michelin stars as advertised. This year, Bubby took me to Providence– the other LA restaurant with 2 Michelin stars. I’ve heard wonderful things about Providence, except that contrary cunt Nibs was the only person who didn’t rave about the food.

SPOTTED: Rich, older lonely boys and the young gold diggers who love them. (Can you tell I just watched a marathon of Gossip Girl recently?) I tried to look for wedding rings on the fingers of both parties and spotted none. Bubby and I tried to discretely turn our backs 180 degrees just to find our favorite couples. Note to self, twisting at that exaggerated angle is never discreet.

Bubby enjoyed a beer while I enjoyed a glass of a delicious medley of juices including lychee, guava, passion fruit, and other exotic treasures that the bartender could muster. It was as delicious as the welcome juice given to the guests at Phuket’s Dusit Laguna Hotel — the most delicious standard for all juices.

This juice was so refreshing but cost more than Bubby’s beer.  Seven dollars of juice.

The amuse bouche

The spoon on the left was a yellow egg-yolk-like version of a screwdriver.  Refreshing and a nice burst of cold alcohol in your mouth.  The square jello on the right was a mojito.  The screwdriver was definitely better than the mojito.

The second amuse bouche

This trio was not as good as the first amuse bouche.  Sipping a luke warm soup from a straw is not a great way of starting a marathon of courses.  I hoped this was not an accurate representation of what was to come.

The bacon brioche

Bubby ate like 8 of these. He described them as bite size wonders that tasted like Jack in the Box’s sourdough jack burgers. He doesn’t even love bacon as much as I do, and he couldn’t get enough of these. I even caught him checking out the size of my purse to see how many miniature wonders I could confiscate safely from the premises. Unfortunately, I carried my small clutch.

Tai snapper sashimi, sake, caviar, salted cherry blossom

The sashimi was fresh and tasted more like yellowtail than snapper. It lacked that chewy consistency that sometimes accompanies snapper sashimi. The snapper’s texture was soft and the caviar, salty. There was a gelatinous layer that I didn’t even mind. In fact, I liked it. But I really loved the yellow rice cracker balls that added the perfect crunch.

Santa Barbara spot prawns, nori bread crumbs, spring herbs

That prawn looks like it’s on roids. It was perfectly cooked and succulent. I did not care for the random herbs, the bread crumbs, or the cat spit foam. In fact, I hate cat spit.  Why do these upscale restaurants find the need to add cat spit? Stop with the cat spit!  It’s not creative, and it’s no longer cool. But most importantly, it looks like the bile that Miso vomits.

Main lobster, charcoal grilled, smoked black truffle butter

This dish looks like Valentine’s Day. The arrangement of the lobster, the colors of my wedding, is perfection. And it tasted the way it looked. Thick pieces of fresh lobster made me want to cry like Homer did when he ate Pinchy.

I, too, felt that I loved Pinchy the most and should respect him by eating him all by myself. Piiiiiiiinchy!!!!!!!

Foie gras ravioli – a la carte

We ordered this dish separately because of the amazing reviews. Also, I’m trying to eat as much foie gras possible before they ban it in California in July. The waiter even recommended making reservations for a foie gras exclusive menu. I’m seriously considering arranging a small dinner party called a Farewell to Foie Gras. These raviolis made me want to cry.  It was like looking at a boyfriend knowing that it won’t last.  It’s so hard to say goodbye to yesterday…. Boyz II Men.

The pasta was perfectly thin, the foie gras rich and decadent.  I will have to cross some state lines to get my foie gras kick.  Trust.

Wild New Zealand john dory, foie gras, white port, spring vegetables

By the time we reached this course, I was busting out of my skirt.  The courses were separated by 15 minutes, and it only takes 7 minutes for my stomach to tell my brain, “Bitch, you full.”  I was fighting the good fight, and I had to have a bite of each dish.  The john dory was tender and flavorful, and I really enjoyed the crispy and crunchy skin.  I really regretted wasting stomach space on the amuse bouche trio.  Rookie mistake.

Duck breast, petit pois, pea greens

I love duck.  One of the perks of marrying a Chinese man is having Peking duck on the regular.  I literally sing my song of joy when the Chinese waiter brings that huge plate of crispy duck and its soft pillow friends.  It is on point just like the duck at Providence.  The duck at Providence melts in your mouth.  It felt like buttered bread that melts on your tongue.  I had to chew like three times before it was ready to be swallowed.  And to seal the deal, the fried ball of foie gras.

I love fried balls of anything, but fried balls of foie gras takes the cake.

Fennel, yellow chartreuse, Angelica root, yogurt

The yogurt was enjoyable and provided a great palate cleanser.  The plate in its entirety was just okay.

Chocolate surprise

The Valentine’s day menu included a dessert that was basically chocolate served with chocolate.  Earlier in the meal, I told our waiter that I wasn’t a fan of chocolate, so he brought me a special dessert that was completely chocolate free.

My surprise dessert

This plate of heaven was more than I could ask for with ice cream, meringue, and hints of lemon.  The fact that they substituted the chocolate madness with the perfect treat for me, I couldn’t be happier.  Well played, Providence.  Well played.

Our farewell treat

I left this box as is.  I could not eat another bite.  Bubby had to roll my fat ass out of that restaurant at 11:30 p.m.  Yes, the entire dinner took longer than 3 hours.  I was feeling a mix of emotions … full, sleepy, tired, happy, drunk with food.

Providence is exponentially better than Melisse.  I could also tell the difference of an All Star Chef and Top Chef based on my experience at Ink recently (review soon to come). If it wasn’t for the liberal use of cat spit, I would have given Providence a perfect rating.

5955 Melrose Avenue
Los Angeles, CA


Maui, Hawaii Part 1

24 Jan

I’m 31 today. I have been drinking legally for 10 years today. A full decade of buying my own liquor. No stealing Blister’s ID to sneak into clubs and memorizing that she’s an Aries and graduated from high school in 1996 just in case the bouncer asks. No paying that significantly older guy in the circle of friends to buy everyone’s liquor. Isn’t it weird that every high school crew had that one older friend who always hung out with the high school kids when he was like a hard 27? Anyway, I’m 31. To celebrate my 21st tenth year anniversary, Bubby took me to Maui. It was either Maui or theYSL bag I had my eye on for the last few months. And sinceYSL can’t give me a tan, loco moco, or four days off of work … Aloha, baby.

We are staying at the Makena Resort, south of Wailea. Here’s our view from our balcony. Golf course on the left and ocean on the right.

Since Bubby and I were working until the minute we boarded our plane, we didn’t know what to expect. We figured Maui was like Honolulu and everything was within walking distance. It’s not. You must rent a car and don’t wait until the last minute to rent one because the lady working at Enterprise will laugh in your face and let you know that all car rentals are gone for the entire island. Luckily, Budget at the Grand Wailea had 2 cars left. A convertible or the jeep. We chose this bad boy:

That’s right. Cherry red stang. Man, driving in Hawaii with the top down, sun on your shoulders, and wind in your hair makes one feel like a teenage boy full of testosterone. If Bubby was a teenage girl, I’d take her in the back seat and pop her cherry in my cherry stang. But Bubby is 30 so I turned up the Phil Collins and belt out an obligatory, older lady’s “woo hoo!”

I was itchin’ for some poke so we drove to The Fish Market in Lahaina. I requested that he make mine spicy.

The ahi is super fresh and the spicy soy sauce, onions, green onions, vinegar sauce was perfect. This is the perfect snack because it’s light, spicy, and savory. For lunch, Bubby ordered the ahi burger and I ordered a Hawaiian white fish (I can’t remember the name because I have vacay brain) with a side of mac salad.

I poured the left over poke sauce on my fish because it lacked flavor. Bubby disliked the onion bun on his burger.  The next time I come to The Fish Market, I’ll order a full pound of the spicy poke on a bed of rice. I’m a simple girl. After we stuffed our faces,we went to Kapua beach. Here’s Bubby lost at sea.

This beach looks nice but had rocks scattered all over the bottom of the ocean, making it difficult to squeeze the sand between my monkey toes. The ocean temperature is a lot colder than the ocean in Waikiki but it’s probably because the masses in Waikiki are probably pissing in the ocean and raising its overall temperature. And for that, I can handle fripples.

I’ve been to Hawaii several times but have never been to a Hawaiian lu’au. Bubby made reservations for us at Old Lahaina Lu’au and you can imagine my surprise when all of the waiters looked like this:

And this:

I immediately sent these photos to Blister and she responded with a “DAYUM! Which lu’au did you go to … chippendales Maui.” Yes, Blister. DAYUM, indeed. I couldn’t stop staring at the waiters, especially the ones with the tatted sleeves. My gawking was a level 10 that Bubby agreed to get a tattoo as long as it was original and meaningful. Happy birthday to me.

The buffet at the lu’au offered your typical Hawaiian options. They even dug out the swine from the ground.  The recurring theme for me in Hawaii was to stack my plate with so much food that it resembles a trough.

DAMN IT! My stupid Ipad just ate the rest of my blog post.  STUPID IPAD. I basically broke down every single item on this plate in a clockwise fashion and now it’s gone.  STUPID IPAD.  Speaking of Ipad, we were sitting on the beach in Maui and I told Bubby, “Oh no, there is so much sand in my Ipad … that’s annoying.”  And my smart-ass husband muttered, “White people problems.”

Anyway, I also wrote a long love letter to the guava/strawberry butter at the lu’au. I was raving on and on about how decadent this magical butter tasted to my husband, and this rude girl sitting across from us (1) overheard our conversation and (2) stuck her dirty ass finger through my precious butter. WHAT THE WHAT?!  Kids are so rude these days.  After licking her dirty ass finger she looked at me and nodded, “it is good.”  Damn Omar Little, jackin’ my shit.

In sum, the lu’au had tasty butter, chicken long rice (the noodles in the small black cup), and tattooed eye candy.

The Fish Market
3600 L. Honoapiilani Road
Lahaina, Hawaii
(the poke deserves 5 fresh claps but the other dishes deserve 2)

Old Lahaina Lu’au
1251 Front Street
Lahaina, Hawaii
(the food deserves 2 claps but the staff deserves a standing ovation and 6 claps symbolizing their 6-pack abs, Good morning!)

Christmas 2011

3 Jan

I love Christmas!  The wrapping paper, the red Starbucks cups, the candy canes, lights, baked goods galore, and dressing Miso up for our annual holiday card.  This year he was a reindeer, but next year’s card will have him as the reindeer, Santa, and elf (past Christmas card costumes).  The pain and suffering in his eyes when dressed in these ridiculous outfits is definitely the true meaning of Christmas.  Here he is in his onesie photobombing my picture of all of the Christmas presents I purchased for others this year.

He always looks like a baby when dressed in his onesie, but he gets so damn lazy.  Look at this lazy bitch.

He would not move off these pillows all day.

I also obviously love Christmas for the food.  All the red and green colored foods that make it feel like you’re literally eating Christmas.

Strawberry Waffles

Bubby made these delicious waffles for me when I was craving breakfast food for dinner.

Chicken and Cheese Enchiladas

I used manchego cheese which is essential for any good enchilada or quesadilla.  I took the leftover rotisserie chicken, shredded the meat, and stuffed it into these bad boys.  The top picture is for Bubby who doesn’t like cheese as much as I do but later regretted not having a thick layer of manchego cheese on top of his enchiladas.

Turkey Meatballs

turkey meatballs

I used Giada’s recipe as a guideline to make these turkey meatballs even though she’s the most annoying person on television.  Really, does she have to over- enunciate every Italian word?!  I poured a liberal amount of vodka and made a creamy vodka sauce.

For Christmas lunch, I prepared Roast Prime Rib and Chicken & Lobster Pot Pie

The roast rib came out to a perfect medium rare pink.  It was as good as Lawry’s for a fraction of the price.  For 10 lbs of roast rib from Whole Foods, it cost around $112.  That’s basically two orders of prime rib, but my roast fed 8 people with a lot left over.  I made the pot pie because it’s my father-in-law’s favorite.  Apparently, he was muttering, “ho sic” which means good in Cantonese.   “Ho sic,” “oh, shit” is right.  This pot pie was good.   I used already-made pie crust because I wasn’t trying to reinvent the wheel.  Pie crust is so hard to make, trust me … it sucks.  But what doesn’t suck, is this rich and creamy pot pie.  Next year, I won’t sprinkle the already made pie crust with sea salt because the pie crust was already salted.  Good tip.

Au jus

Blister almost shit her pants when she saw the fat drippings I used to make this au jus.  Do not use as much red wine as suggested, it gives the au jus a tangy aftertaste. I also made some sour cream horseradish sauce for the prime rib but forgot to take a picture.

Blister made the creamed corn and was, again, shocked by the bacon grease required to give this corn a smokey flavor.

BBQ Baked Beans

I made these baked beans for my dad thinking it was his favorite, but he barely touched them.  No more Christmas baked beans.

Gingered Carrots

I left these carrots in the oven 15 minutes too long.  The ends got slightly burned.  I cut the tips off and ate the rest.  (That’s what she said.)

After stuffing our faces with nearly 3,000 calories, we opened our gifts.  Look at what Santa brought me.

I was very good this year.
The lazy bitch eventually jumped off the pillows, but look at how the lazy bitch wrapped himself up in cashmere.

I love Christmas!

Thanksgiving 2011

8 Dec

The day to give thanks comes once a year.  Bubby and Blister’s favorite holiday.  Of course it’s their favorite.  Recently, I had an epiphany that Bubby is the male version of Blister.  They are alike in so many ways that it hit me like a ton of bricks, and when I told Bubby how similar he is to Blister, he said, “I’ve been telling you that.”  Apparently Bubby and Blister already knew how alike they are but I was clearly in denial.  But it makes sense.  The Twinsies are super logical people, have an undying love for Almond Joy and strong interest in Greek mythology, share a keen eye for scams and gimmicks, drag me to watch action movies that seem horrible but actually are entertaining, and declare Thanksgiving to be their favorite holiday because it’s all about eating.  Weird.

This Thanksgiving, I decided to use the Williams-Sonoma turkey brine and Whole Foods spice rub because I pre-ordered an organic, free-range $60 turkey.  It would have been an $80 dollar bird but Bubby’s family was in Hong Kong.  $60 for a bird seems outrageous.  That bird better be the juiciest bird, do a little dance, and pop out a cornish game hen from its loins for $60.  It didn’t dance or give birth to a hen, but it was juicy, especially the white meat.  I’m not a fan of white meat, but it was actually tasty.  To ensure the moistness of the bird, I used Alton Brown’s brining and roasting techniques.  Although the meat was moist, Bubby said he can taste the star anise from the brine — a taste we cannot appreciate.  Next year, I may use a different brine and different rub but will definitely buy that expensive ass bird.  Even though the flavor was not exponentially better than a hormone-filled turkey, it made me eat white meat which is priceless.


Turks’s brine – looks gross

Turks with a tan and creamed corn as his backup dancer.

El Ninja’s “I only eat fish” option.

Cornbread stuffing with Italian sausage and hard-boiled eggs.  Unfortunately, it was a little dry this year because my brand new oven was just too strong.

Macaroni and cheese with like 5 different types of cheese.  This may be my last year making macaroni and cheese.

Green beans with garlic and pancetta.  Make note of the bowl of jalapenos because we are Korean.

Blister’s garlic mashed potatoes.  Blister is responsible for making the mashed potatoes every year.  There was so much mashed potatoes left over that I made Bubby some “potatee balls” which is Sheppard’s pie inside a ball of mashed potatoes baked and rolled in panko crumbs.

The spread.

Before diving into our meal, each family member had to say two things they are grateful for this  year.  I said I was grateful for my husband and having my family all live in LA.  Bubby said he was grateful for his wife and everyone’s good health.  And then after that, the entire family copied our answers.  Thankful for health, the new addition to our family, and living close to each other.  El Ninja gave the meal 4 slow claps but acknowledged that if he had the turkey it would have been 5.

While in my turkey stupor, Blister pre-purchased tickets to see The Immortals.  It’s a family tradition to watch a movie on Thanksgiving — a family tradition I despise.  Last year she made me see Harry Potter.  I don’t mind watching a movie but after a hard day of cooking, I really just want to eat another plate of turkey and pass out.  She physically dressed me in yoga pants, uggs, beanie, and an ugly sweater, I was forced to go.  The movie was actually good, and Henry Cavill was as sweet as a slice of pumpkin pie.  Yum-my.

Skirball Cultural Center

3 Nov

Ladies and gents, please welcome my very first guest blogger, MEXICUNNIE!  Mexicunnie has graciously offered to provide a post about my wedding food since I was unable to taste what cost so much dough.  Enjoy. ~ M&C


Hi! I’m Mexicunnie, your guest amateur blogger for the evening.

Obviously I am honored to have been elected to blog about Meat and Confer’s wedding feast, though sadly I will be able to offer my views solely on the Southern side of the buffet.  Why, you ask, did I not partake in the food from the Asian and carving stations? Many reasons, but namely I was 8 months preggo and craving some of that good ol’ home cookin’.  And, more importantly, I had already stacked my plate so precariously high with chicken ‘n thangs that I did not have a speck of room left on the plate by the time I made it to the Asian side. It was the sharks vs. the jets and I was clearly a jet.

Here is my street cred which enables me to talk with some authority about this particular fare:

I am the granddaughter of a woman named Ruby Lee (for reals that was her name). Now, Ruby Lee was born in a Mississippi briar patch and was still a young girl when the Great Depression hit.  The particular part of Mississippi from which my white half hails is still po’ as hell so you can imagine they didn’t have much of anything during those troubled economic times.  This enabled my granny to become nothing short of a culinary MacGyver, fashioning delectable eats from flour and water and bitches better look out if she ever got a hold of some hog.  I remember she had a bowl designated just for making biscuits. She kept flour in the bowl along with an old timey tin flour sifter in it. Every day she got this bowl out, sifted the flour, added milk and eggs and such to the bowl, hand mixed the biscuit dough, and then gently rolled it into little delicate clouds.  This woman was legit, ok.?  Trust.   And I share her blood line and I spent every summer and every spring break with her until the summer before medical school when she passed away.  I watched her cook.  I paid attention.  But mostly I just ate like I was on death row.   M&C and Blister always say my super power is to eat and not weigh 400 pounds.  Looking back, it IS a wonder I was not morbidly obese.  Fried chicken, cornbread, pork and rice, chicken ‘n dressin, pink eye purple hull peas (damn I shelled so many bushels of those peas but triple damn they were worth it!)…I tasted the best the deep South had to offer so that pretty much makes me the expert around here.  I also spent the school years living in Texas, the state which always seems to provide the majority entries to the “Fattest Cities in America” list every year.  That’s because TX has some seriously awesome restaurants, y’all.  Houston, you’re delicious and a friggin fatty and you know it’s true.

I, myself, have tried different restaurants around L.A. touting that they offer real Southern food, but none of them really deliver (exception might be Dr. Hoggly Woggly’s Texas BBQ in Sherman Oaks but don’t even get me started about Roscoe’s, folks).  So I find it truly bizarre that the best Southern food that I have experienced in these here parts came from the Skirball center where the wedding reception took place.  I’m sure the chefs there are used to doling out filet mignon or seabass or some shit…but fried chicken? Come on.  I am here to attest, however, that whatever sweet-tits was responsible for rendering this chicken so crispy, so fried, so moist, so brined, so succulent- that person has a true gift.  That chicken was not only scrumptious, it defied all regulations and dogma. I was taught that you shouldn’t ever fry chicken without the bone in (my husband loves cracking a joke every time I use the phrase “bone in”, so shout out to him right now). The bone provides moisture and, above all, flavor to the chicken meat.  What jackhole would ever remove the bone?  Well, apparently it CAN be done and it was done at the Skirball.  That bird was boneless and above reproach.

<Note, if I had my druthers, I would enter a youtube clip of the movie “Circle of Friends” where Alan Cummings as the creepy Sean Walsh is at dinner with Minnie Driver and her parents and says “I’ve never tasted a more succulent birrrrrd…the richness of it and the flavor…all in all indisputable.>

(Thanks for the pics, Pelota.)

Then there was a creamy nouveau riche mac & cheese and greens that had some good sabor.  I judge Mexican restaurants by the salsa and I judge Southern food by the greens.  If they fuck up the greens (Roscoe’s I am looking at you, girl), then forget it.  Immediate dismissal.  But these greens made me say umph.

The only thing I could teach the Skirball is how to make better cornbread and how to add obscene amounts of butter to both the cornbread and the sweet mashed potatoes to get it tasting right.  The cornbread was dry.  You have to make cornbread in a pone.   You can’t make it in big batches like they tried to do, or it will come out dessicated.  Unlucky for them that they had to make cornbread for a crowd.  Oh well,  that chicken was 5 clap worthy so I ain’t mad atcha.  I want to add here since I just made a brief homage to butter that Anthony Bourdain is a real asshole.   I confess that I respect him in general because he has a well-cultivated palate and is ostensibly well-traveled but to criticize a Southern cook like Paula Deen for loving herself some recipes with butter as the main ingredient is just asinine,  All Southern cooks love butter and use butter unabashedly.  It’s merely in their nature. Does he go around yelling at dogs for licking their balls? I mean, really.   Anthony Bourdain was a dick for attacking that sweet magnolia flower, Paula Deen (who talks just like my mom by the way), for being herself and loving butter.  Anthony Bourdain, I would punch your smug ass face and then I would make you take me to Southeast Asia where we would find that Balinese pig you talked so much about- you know the one roasting on a spit getting all gussied up and basted by a rag on a stick- that was a good episode.   I digress.

The last thing I want to mention is the donut lady, “The Fry Girl” or something like that (catchy right?).  Now that the wedding is over, the donut lady is no longer an international secret and other people can now hire the donut lady to make their event super luxe.   The donut lady has a small stand and a little helper elf and a genius deep frying machine which turns out little donuts the size of a dollar coin- the batter enters on one end and floats lazily down a river of fryin’ grease until it is soft on the inside and crisp on the outside.   Then you get to choose the flavor on top- powdered sugar, cinnamon, jam, etc.   Homer Simpson would literally jizz his pants.  Basically if I had extra time on my hands, I would find the donut lady at her house, stand beneath her window, and hold up a boombox that plays Peter Gabriel’s “In Your Eyes.”

It’s funny how you just take home specific memories from an event. For me, the wedding jogs musings of Miso in a tux, Blister looking like a Korean soap star, M&C never looking more radiant and glam, and a couple very much in love.  Oh, and the chicken ‘n donuts.  Mmmmm…donuts.

Skirball Cultural Center
2701 North Sepulveda Boulevard
Los Angeles, CA

The Fry Girl


12 Oct

I love this restaurant because it reminds me of Umfufu from Eddie Murphy’s Raw, “I don’t like the way you treat me, Eddie.  You treat me like animal!”

Oh, Eddie Murphy.  I miss the 80’s when you wore leather suits, laughed maniacally, and made people laugh.  What happened, Eddie?  I used to watch Coming to America every Saturday.  At the young age of 8, I would bark like a dog while hopping on one foot and randomly say, “The royal penis is clean, your highness.”  I think that was my first ever dong joke.  So proud.  Oh, Eddie.  I learned so much from you and Arsenio.  And the both of you abandoned me at such an impressionable age.  Luckily, there was Martin Lawrence’s You So Crazy, Chris Rock’s Bigger and Blacker and a few years of Dave Chappelle.  But Eddie, we all know you’re a father and want to make wholesome movies but don’t resist.  Come back.  Be funny again.  “EDDDDDIEE….WHAT HAVE YOU DONE FOR ME LATELY!”

I decided to take my Umfufu, Bubby, to Animal.  He always says I go to the best restaurants without him.  We dressed up and went on a date.  I’m usually not one to dress up on a weekend, but I just got my hair ombre dyed, so I didn’t want to waste a perfect blow out.  Umfufu said my hair makes me look like a “loose” woman while Blister said I look like I didn’t go to college.  Score!  I never want to hear anyone tell me that I look like I have a graduate degree  because that means you fugly. Perhaps I’ll upload a picture of my new slutty hair.

We went to Animal on a Saturday night at 9 pm so we got a table rather quickly.  I ordered a few staples like the foie gras loco moco, chili and lime fried pig ears, and the pork belly sliders.  Umfufu was skeptical about the sliders but he let me order it anyway.  He also ordered the bone marrow, a dish I have yet to try.

Pig ears

I forgot to take the picture of this dish when it first arrived.  But there was a beautiful fried egg on top that I mixed all up with the pig ears.  I love any dish that’s spicy and acidic.  Add pork? Even better.  I like the crunchiness of the ears.  The lime and spice are just as good and the savory fried egg with running yolk makes an excellent sauce.  I ate this all by myself because Umfufu was not a fan.

Bone Marrow

The buttery marrow is draped with chimichurri and sweet grilled onions.  Spreading this all over garlic toast was fan-fucking-tastic.  I wanted to lick the marrow  up and down like the 90’s Silk “Freak Me” song, “Lemme lick you up and down … til you say stop! Lemme play with your marrow baby make it real hot.”  It was erotic.

Foie Gras Loco Moco

I love me some loco moco.  The best thing about Hawaii is the unlimited supply of loco moco, mac salad, spam musubi, and the glorious beaches.  But most definitely, the loco moco.  At first, I judged this bougie version of the loco moco.  Loco moco is the food of the people, it shouldn’t be served with foie gras and a quail egg, right?  Oh so wrong.  When in doubt, add foie gras and quail eggs to everything.  The foie gras was thick and added a fatty quality to a dish that’s already drizzled with gravy.  But fat is fat.  And it is good.

Pork Belly Sliders

Everyone knows by now how much I fantasize about pork belly.  What Umfufu didn’t realize was how much he loved pork belly, especially these pork belly sliders.  The bread is what makes these fucking things so amazing.  Yes, the pork fat is awesome, but the bread.  It’s like … the fresh baked bread from a Hong Kong bakery: sweet, fluffy, light, warm, and buttery.  The crunchiness from the slaw slathered in bbq sauce was just beautiful.  Umfufu wanted to order 5 servings of these, and he probably will one day because he slow clapped this dish in the middle of the restaurant.

Animal gets 4 slow claps out of 5.  Umfufu says the sliders deserve 5.

435 N Fairfax Ave
Los Angeles, CA

Donut Man

10 Jun

After Bubby and I met with our officiant to discuss the details of our wedding ceremony, we wanted to treat ourselves to a nice reward.  Donuts.  Last week was National Donut Day (the first Friday of June) and to me, National Donut Day is the equivalent to Christmas.  And did anyone bring me any presents on my favorite holiday?!!   No.  Fuckers.  So I decided to buy my own holiday gift of freshly fried dough at Donut Man.

Bubby said “Jim” looks like Peter Griffin.  Totally true.

I’ve heard good things about the strawberry donuts at Donut Man.  It’s even on Jonathan Gold’s list of “99 Things to Eat in L.A. Before You Die.”  I keep a copy of that list in my office and have almost checked off the entire list.  I agree with some of his choices, not all.  I’ll make a list of my own.

After a long drive to BFE, we finally arrived.  Donut Man is located next to a gym which is hilarious.  I couldn’t wait to devour my strawberry donut in front of the fat guy running for his life on the treadmill.  That, to me, is the true meaning of National Donut Day.  We walked toward the Donut Man, and the air smelled like a state fair.  It smelled like fresh funnel cakes.  So happy.

Donut Man is not a restaurant, it’s a walk-up counter with lots of donuts on display.  Immediately you notice the array of sugary treats.

The “world famous” strawberry donuts.

The tiger tails.

The apple cinnamon.

The chocolate dong donuts.

Bubby and I ordered one tiger tail, one chocolate dong donut, one apple cinnamon, one cinnamon crumble, one glazed, and one world famous strawberry.  I wanted to order the cream cheese donuts, but they were sold out.  Rats!

The tiger tail donut was actually really good.  Soft and chewy with swirls of chocolate in it.  I don’t really like chocolate donuts, but this is the perfect amount.  I didn’t eat the chocolate dong so Bubby should leave his review in the comments section.

The apple cinnamon was way too sweet for me.  Bubby loved it, but I was not a fan.  It was overly gelatinous.

I loved the cinnamon crumble donut.  When I bit down into it, the top and bottom layer of the donut touched which shows how soft and chewy the dough actually is.

The golden child: the strawberry donut.  This donut is more like a pastry because you have to eat it with a fork.  The strawberries were fresh and the glaze wasn’t too thick or gelatinous.  It was pretty good … world famous good?  Not really.  But definitely worth trying.  Now would I drive all the way to BFE for it, probably not.

And finally, the glazed donut.  I can’t accurately judge the glazed donut because Bubby nuked it in the microwave for 25 seconds which is way too long.  Everyone knows there’s scientific proof that the perfectly nuked donut takes 9 seconds.  I still ate it, but I can’t recommend it since it was tainted evidence.  Blame Bubby for his rookie microwave skills.

I give Donut Man 4 claps.  Had they been freshly fried, I probably would have given them a perfect score.

Donut Man
915 E Rt 66
Glendora, CA


8 Jun

To celebrate our last pre-marital class, Bubby and I went to Marston’s for brunch. Basically, Bubby and I were the class clowns. While others took copious notes and intently studied the PowerPoint presentation, Bubby and I were always late, laughed at inappropriate times, and made fun of the other couples for being lame. At one point, Bubby and I didn’t have a pen and asked the neighboring couple to borrow one of their ten pens but they were really salty about letting us borrow one.  Fuckers.  They won’t last anyway.

So to celebrate our awesomeness and not having to wake up so damn early every Sunday morning, we eat.

There was a slight wait when we arrived but only waited for 15 minutes. We sat in the waiting area outside and enjoyed the sunny view.

After our brief wait, we sat on the patio and ordered fresh orange juice.  So it turns out that I may have an orange allergy.  Every time I eat oranges or drink orange juice, I get hives. Such a damn shame because nothing tastes better than a tall cold glass of freshly squeezed orange juice.  Damn allergies killin’ my food game.  The freshly squeezed orange juice was sweet and refreshing.  Worth every single hive.

After perusing the menu, Bubby decided to order an Andouille sausage with over easy eggs and buttered toast.  I ordered the pulled pork eggs benedict and we decided to share corn flaked french toast with fresh strawberries.  I know.  I know.  We are fully aware of our fatassness.

Bubby’s sausage was extra spicy and had that outer casing which snapped.  I loved Bubby’s sausage.  But I don’t think his eggs were properly cooked over easy.  They were more like over medium.  And I cannot stand when eggs are overcooked with that extra fried outer ring which tastes like styrofoam.  These eggs had that ring.  But the best was the simple buttered wheat toast.  I hate everything wheat, but this toast was crispy, buttery, sweet.  Every square inch of that toast was perfectly buttered.

On a better note, my pulled pork eggs benedict was just lovely.

The shredded pork was soft and was perfectly coated with poached yolk like that feeling when it rains and then gets super sunny so the city feels clean and washed but the sun is warm on your skin.  Yeah, that feeling.  Too bad the potatoes were gummy and burnt.


Drumroll please. The french toast covered in corn flakes.

Wait. Dammit, where are my fresh strawberries?!!!

Take two. Drumroll please.  The french toast covered in corn flakes.

The toast looked like Texas toast, a good sign.  The powdered sugar was lightly dusted.  Nice.  And the strawberries and syrup were plenty.


Dun dun dun dunnu nuh nuh nuh nuh nuh (Playing the game over tune from Super Mario Brothers).  It was okay.  The corn flakes weren’t crunchy enough.  The edges weren’t crispy enough. The toast wasn’t warm and soft in the middle. It was okay. The strawberries weren’t as sweet and the syrup was cold.  It had the potential to be so good.  Like Obi-Wan Kenobi said so disappointingly, “YOU WERE THE CHOSEN ONE!”

It was still a decent brunch.  And for that 3 slow claps.

151 East Walnut Street
Pasadena, CA


27 May

I have been MIA. I know. My life has been crazy with work, my bachelorette party in Miami, wedding planning, allergy attacks which made my face look like Will Smith’s in the movie “Hitch”, and a recent family loss. For any ordinary girl, these events would be stressful. For a girl with severe anxiety and paranoia, I almost lost my shit. To cope with these difficulties, I have been feeding my feelings. Just haven’t written about my feedings or feelings. But Blister said that my three readers are losing interest so after a month hiatus, it’s Britney, bitch, I’m back.

I’ve been to Craft in Century City many times. It’s a block away from my firm and the only restaurant option not located in the mall. I went to Craft recently with Jerr Bear and Cellmate for Jerr Bear’s going away lunch. He’s one of my favorite coworkers because he’s the only person who will bust out dancing the butterfly with me in the kitchen at work.

Craft at lunch is always full of white old men who are either lawyers or agents who work at CAA.  Basically, a room of douchebaggos.  The host sat the people of color (minus Cellmate) at the bar area –some Rosa Parks shit.  I’m going to have to write Tom Colicchio an email about that.

Once we were seated, the bread arrived. Jerr Bear called it the Obama-McCain bread.

Once again, Obama wins.


Remember how Elya called Tom out for not using meat from local farms at the Top Chef reunion? Well, she must have hit a nerve in him because he listed all of the local farms he purchases goods from right on his menu.  Tom, haters gonna hate.  You don’t have to revamp your menu for the “chef” who was voted off first.

For our appetizer, we ordered the hamachi with lime caviar. This appetizer was refreshing, light, perfectly acidic.  The hamachi was fresh and sliced with the perfect thickness. Good job, Tom.

The cream served with the hamachi looked like a 13 year old boy’s memento but tasted great.

I ordered the rabbit, Cellmate ordered the braised beef ravioli, and Jerr Bear ordered the steak.  We shared a side of cauliflower.

The rabbit was dry and disappointing. Jerr Bear tried to make me feel bad for eating Bugs Bunny. I had no feelings of guilt about Bugs but just feelings of regret for having to eat dry rabbit.

I asked Cellmate and Jerr Bear to describe their dishes with one word and Cellmate said “okay” while Jerr Bear said “good.”  Feel free to interpret what they mean however you like.

The side of cauliflower was lightly fried and crunchy.  The purple color was unique, and it was perfectly seasoned.  A really great side dish to not so delightful main courses.

The dinner menu is definitely better than the lunch menu at Craft.  For the hamachi and cauliflower, I give Craft 2 slow claps.  Tom, I hope this doesn’t prevent my chances as a guest judge on Top Chef.  It’s business and your rabbit blows.  Tom, please pack your knives and go.

10100 Constellation Blvd
Los Angeles, CA

Umami Burger

6 Apr

Papi Chula asked me out on a date, and I said, “Hells, yes…you betta put out.  Don’t be stingy.”

He was craving a hamburger, so we decided to go to the Umami Burger on La Brea.  We started the date off in his charcoal 2-door BMW, the single LA guy’s ride.  In the car, we listened to songs like this:

The techno Weho version.  Loves it.

Umami has valet parking for $2.  What a steal.  Definitely a plus.  Another bonus was not having to wait even though there were several people waiting outside.

Papi Chula’s man hands.

Look at his clean, pressed, pink shirt.  Papi Chula gets his clothes tailored from a small sweatshop filled with hungry children.  He looks amazing and the small stitching from the small hands is perfection.  So far the date is going really well.  Papi Chula ordered the Port & Stilton burger with blue cheese and port-caramelized onions, and I ordered the Umami burger with oven roasted tomatoes, caramelized onions, Parmesan frico, SHITake mushrooms, and house ketchup.

While we waited for our meal, Papi Chula and I like to engage in shocking conversations for others to hear.  And since this restaurant had the tables so close to each other, we spoke even louder.

PC: Will you give me an HJ?
Me: Why?
PC: I’ve had a bad day.
Me: With or without a dental dam?
PC: Without.
Me: Lambskin.
PC: Fine.

The table next to us was definitely eavesdropping and their eyes were giving glares of what the fuck.  It’s fun.  While engaging in similar conversations, our “sprites” arrived.

Um, this ain’t no lemon-lime Sprite!  What the hell is Bubble Up?  Still good though.  I can’t eat a cheeseburger without Sprite anymore, ever since I saw Pulp Fiction with Samuel L. Jackson eating a burger and washing it down with some delicious Sprite.  It goes so well together.  The salty burger and acidic sweet syrup water… I like.

The Umami burger

The pros:  The meat is juicy and the meat juice leaks out of the burger.  The bun is soft and fluffy, kind of like a dinner roll.
The cons:  Everything else.  I don’t like SHITake mushrooms and there was plenty of it.  The fried cheese should have been crispier and had a stronger crunch, but I appreciated the Parmesan kick.  I could definitely taste it.  But the worst of all was the homemade ketchup.  Heinz perfected the recipe, you don’t have to make it homemade.  It tasted like marinara sauce and was way too sweet.  Combined with the roasted tomatoes and caramelized onions, it was like candy.

The fries.

There was nothing special about these fries.  And there’s more of that damn homemade ketchup.  Seriously, every restaurant needs to invest in some bottled Heinz ketchup.  It’s fucking awesome and perfect.  None of that canned generic shit where I can taste the metallic and none of that homemade crap where it tastes like spaghetti sauce.  Some good old Heinz is all I need.  And for the restaurants who think serving ketchup is beneath them and serve dumbass aioli, yeah Father’s Office I’m talking to you, get off your high horse.  This ain’t England, gimme some damn Heinz.  Freeeeeedom!!!!!

I was expecting a lot from this burger especially since I read in Gourmet magazine that it was one of the best burgers in Los Angeles.  I disagree. But Papi Chula and I decided to begin our own search for LA’s Next Top Burger.  Wanna be on top??? This is going to be fun and super caloric.  Stay tuned for date number 2.

Umami Burger
850 S La Brea Ave
Los Angeles, California