The Only Hot Date I’ve Had All Year – Bacon-wrapped Dates

The original draft of this post was a long, thoughtful dissertation on dating, which was the set-up for Brie-stuffed, bacon-wrapped dates that were a starter at a recent mostly-Spanish not-really-tapas tapas dinner party I had.

Instead, let’s just talk about how original good intentions can take an unexpected turn and unfurl into ick. I intended to write about dating, and what clicked through my keyboard and onto the screen, while therapeutic, ended up being *ahem* a little too therapeutic for public comsumption. I intended to re-create the roasted dates stuffed with parmesan and wrapped with bacon that I had an LA restaurant that nearly sent me into cardiac arrest with excitement, but what came out of my oven looked like, *ahem* something for which you’d need therapy if you actually consumed them.

(The restaurant at which I ate the original bacon-wrapped dates shall remain nameless for now because likely at least four weeks will transpire before I get to write up my almost-orgasmic experience there, and I just can’t bear to play hard to get with myself for that long. If you must know, let’s just flirt around the restaurant’s identity – the name has three letters which do not spell out a word. Because I’m easy like that, I’ll even tell you that the letters are: C, A, and O, but I’m not going to tell you in what order they’re supposed to be because I’m also an international woman of mystery like that! Yeah, baby, yeah! *raises eyebrows*)

So, these dates, the fruit kind, just like dates, the people kind, don’t deserve very much attention. They had so much potential. *sigh* Don’t they all? But in the end, it just didn’t work out the way my heart was hopefully expecting. Of course, it’s all my own silly silly fault. With my inability to accept the date exactly as is, I tried to change him to what I thought was more a more “sophisticated” and “gentle” Brie, but is it surprise that I was unsuccessful? Of course not. Exernal factors can be changed, like a light glaze with reduced balsamic vinegar, but internal, personality-defining characteristics should be left alone. The too-soft Brie cheese oozed out of the dates long before the bacon had crisped.

Timing was off as well, which is why they *ahem* burned. I’ve got to learn how to pay more attention instead of getting absorbed in all the other things that are seemingly more important. Or at least, remember to f–king set a timer.

Ah well, it’s wonderful to be surrounded with friends who will drink with me over a date debacle and insist that it isn’t me, that I’m amazing, and for God’s sake it’s bacon.

tags :: food : and drink : mediterranean : cooking : recipes : parties : los angeles

I’ve Caught Something – The Four Things Meme

I’ve caught a meme from a couple of BFs (blogfriends), but don’t worry, they weren’t at the same time ;) The original instructions were simply to list four things for each subject, but since I don’t follow instructions, and I have a problem with brevity, I’ve added my own long-winded comments and disclaimers.

Four Jobs I’ve Had in My Life:
These are not in chronological order, but in the order of importance to me.

1. Is food blogging a job?
2. Slinging sake and shochu in a Japanese restaurant was the job for which I was hired, but whenever a cook called in sick, I got to fill-in.
3. Planning events could have been glamorous, but not when the events are economic conferences.
4. I did marketing, marketing, marketing in almost every flavor known to a business school ice cream parlor.

Four Movies I Could Watch Over and Over:
I don’t watch a lot of movies, and to be quite honest, I doubt I could actually watch any single movie over and over, but if I had to, these are the ones I love and, in fact, have seen more then twice.

1. American Beauty
2. Fight Club
3. Memento
4. Usual Suspects

Four Places I’ve Lived:
Before settling here in LA, and listed with food memories from each…

1. Berkeley, CA – Fat Slice, Zachary’s, Top Dog, Steve’s Barbecue….and Chez Panisse
2. Cincinnati, OH – Skyline Chili and Montgomery Inn Ribs
3. Detroit, MI – cider doughnuts at the Franklin Cider Mill, Little Caesar’s Crazy Bread
4. San Antonio, TX – Tex Mex!

Four TV Shows I Love to Watch:
I also don’t watch much tv other than brainlessly watching the Food Network so since that is basically a given, I’ll do my best to come up with shows that are not on channel 55.

1. Awards shows
2. The Daily Show
3. CNN, driven by a particular affinity for the medical specials
4. Tony Bourdain’s No Reservations

Four Places I Have Been on Vacation:
Flying is a huge problem for me, so I have a rather uninteresting travel history. Hopefully, a trip to Chicago last fall was the beginning of my recovery…

1. Chicago and Milwaukee
2. Miami for the Winter Music Conference (not to attend the conference, so yes, it was seven days that felt like one long night of clubbing, and I didn’t eat a thing)
3. Bay Area almost every year
4. Summer mega road trips wherever the AAA triptik took my Delicious family in our Buick woodie, all along the Eastern seaboard, through the southeast, across the south, and all over the southwest. Everywhere.

Four Websites I Visit Daily:

1. gmail – to find out if I’m going anywhere
2. google – to find a place to go
3. gmaps – to find out how the hell to get there
4. foodpornwatch – because at the end of the day, I never end up leaving my house ;) (I would list specific sites, but I don’t want to offend anyone by leaving them out)

Four of My Favorite Foods:
This is so unfair. I can’t commit myself to only four favorites!

1. anything so spicy that it makes me weep – chiles, mustard, horseradish, Indian and Korean foods
2. little pickled things like olives, kimchee, sauerkraut, giardiniera
3. oily, stinky, fishy fish like anchovies, sardines, mackerel (saba)
4. tortilla chips in any form – with salsa and guacamole, or full-fledged nachos

Four Places I Would Rather Be Right Now:

1. In the kitchen cooking
2. On the dancefloor (and if Sasha and Diggers happen to be spinning, well…)
3. Trying something on my To-Dine List for the first time with my best friend
4. In my bed reading (food) porn

Four Tags:
A couple of food blogs, and a couple others, just to prove I don’t have a problem.

1. The Amateur Gourmet – because I am double-teaming him with Year in Food (who tagged me)
2. Citizen of the Month – because I know it would be funny
3. Fresh Approach – because she’s a busy working girl now and making lists are easy
4. LA Ritz – because she has excellent taste and is a fellow LA girl

tags :: food : and drink : blogs : blogging : memes : los angeles

Spanish Fry – Patatas Bravas

The first time I ever “made” French fries at home, I think, was in middle school. I tore open a bag of frozen Ore Ida crinkle cuts and tossed them into the oven. Many of them were broken before they even made it out of their sub-zero existence, many were torn and ragged, leaving behind a crackly, burnt backside when they were ripped from an ungreased baking sheet, and all of them lacked any sort of crisp. In fact, they tasted no different from a crinkle cut baked potato. They weren’t awesome, but there was naive, first-time pride in those fries.

Since then, I’ve also tried my hand at French fries from real potatoes a few times (“real” potatoes, because who knows what Ore Ida or any frozen food manufacturer really use?) – Idaho russets cut by hand, experimentation in shapes and sizes, soaked in water to drain the starch, deep-fried, sometimes twice.

But whether from frozen or from scratch, French fries made at home have always left me, if only ever so slighty…unfulfilled. Crisp, salty, greasy – all the requirements of a fabulous French fry were there, and yet, something was missing.

I finally realized that when it all comes down to it, nothing, not even the love and care of homemade, nothing will ever beat McDonald’s French fries.

*gasp!*

As much as I hate his creepy perma-grin and bright red freaky-fro, and as much as I hate that he’s done this to me, Ronald McClownburger’s French fries have always been the benchmark against which I measure all other French fries. Damn him. Damn Ronald and his 570 calorie perfect combination of crispy and soggy, salted, greasy, and always hot fries. I hate you! I hate you Ronald, because goddamit, I’m lovin’ it!

Homemade French fries will never taste like McDonald’s French fries. Ronald has got to be adding add some other secret weird crack-like substance to the oil that give them that signature taste. In fact, French fries at home will never be as good as any fast food chain’s, because while the Burger King is rushing past the Defense, his mascot/jester Jack in the Box is coating raw “potatoes” with some crazy chemistry lab concoction before deep frying to make them extra crispy. I feel weird about that. I don’t think I could dip my potatoes in tempura batter.

So I have given up on trying to achieve a McDonald’s-like French fry at home just to avoid guaranteed disappointment. I am not making French fries anymore.

But if I make fried potatoes, not French fries, but simple fried potatoes that don’t play in the same playground as Ronald, there can be no comparison, and thus, no disappointment.

Patatas Bravas, fried or roasted potato cubes with a tomato sauce, were perhaps one of the first types of tapas I tried. I’d love to call them the Spanish equivalent of French fries and ketchup, but truly, they deserve to be in a class all their own. I wasn’t sure why they were called “bravas,” thinking that there must have been some interesting background about how these potatoes perhaps required sangria-induced liquid courage to eat, but I found out that Spanish “brava” translates to English “fierce,” referring the spiciness of tomato sauce – which still may require a bit of bravery.

Patatas Bravas
The potatoes can be deep-fried, but oven “frying” requires far less attention – allowing you to pay more attention to the fifty-seven other things on the stove top, to your guests, and to your own glass of sangria.

Preheat oven to 400 degrees.

Peel and cut about 5 pounds of potatoes into ¾-1” chunks. Toss them with about ½ cup olive oil, season with salt and pepper, spread on to a baking sheet and roast for about 45 minutes, shaking the pan and stirring them every 10-15 minutes. The potatoes are done when they are crisp on the outside and soft on the inside

While the potatoes are roasting, heat about 2 Tbsp olive oil in a sauce pan and cook 1 large, finely chopped onion until translucent. Add 2 smashed cloves of continue cooking with onions until the garlic is fragrant.

Add 1 Tbsp crushed red pepper (more if you’re fierce like that), a few tablespoons of chopped parsley, 1 Tbsp sugar, 1 tsp of soy sauce, black pepper to taste, and 1 cup of wine. I used red because that is what I already had open (drinking). You can use a dry white wine or even a dry sherry.

Bring to a gentle boil, reduce heat to let the sauce simmer for about 10 minutes, then add 1 15 oz can of plum tomatoes, crushed by hand. Let the sauce simmer for another 10-15 minutes, then remove from the heat and cool.
The sauce can be served chunky as is, which would make it “rustic,” but I pureed mine in a food processor to make it a little smoother. Most tapas, including patatas bravas, are served room temperature.

Put the roasted potatoes onto a plate with high sides or a shallow bowl and top with the tomato sauce. Garnish with chopped parsley if you want to make it pretty.

tags :: food : and drink : spanish : cooking : recipes : parties : los angeles

Did Someone Say Topless?!?! – Gambas al Ajillo (Garlic Shrimp)

“Where are we going?”
A tapas bar.
“What?” He paused and glanced sideways at me. “No way!!”
I just kept driving.
Rubbing his hands together like a mad scientist, he purred, “Yessssss.”

But he ended up sorely disappointed when he realized that he wasn’t going to get to buy me a lapdance afterall.

I actually don’t like the word “tapas.” Its being confused with “topless,” especially with the word “bar” appended to it all the time, is not the problem. It’s pretty funny, actually, when someone’s hopes of having the disgusting pleasure of watching a half-nekkid, half-plastic barbie doll grind her very taut, yet taut in all the most unnatural places, body all over me are dashed with glass of orange juice spiked with red wine. (I have never ever once set foot in any of “those” dance clubs so truly, I have no authority to write about what the women look like nor what they do, so I will stop right now.) No, I don’t like the word tapas because it’s always used wrong. Did I say wrong? I meant wrong-ly. Oh god, here comes petty in pink.

Tapas are Spanish. Tapas are small portions. Tapas are also accompaniments to drink. However, just because paella is Spanish does not mean it is a tapa. Just because a side salad is served on a small plate does not mean it is a tapa. And just because Buffalo wings taste great with an MGD doesn’t mean they are tapas! It’s not some weird, half-assed algebraic theorem in which “if one of three, then tapas.” Tapas must meet all three conditions! All three silly stupid petty conditions, okay?!?!

*breathe* I feel better now.

And yet, I put Gambas al Ajillo into a giant bowl, served it, along with everything else (some of which weren’t really Spanish), buffet-style around my dining room table, and called it “tapas.” Tapas! Spanish? Check. Drinking? Check. Small portions on small plates? *gasp!* They were giant family-style bowls from which each guest ladled, scooped, spooned, etc. a little bit of everything onto to their own ginormous dinner plates. It was a f–king buffet!

I should be hung by my apron strings. No, just for that, I should go spend the night in a topless bar.

These aren’t true, authentic gambas al ajillo, which are shrimp sauteed with only garlic. There is quite a bit of lemon in the sauce and I also added onions, but since they aren’t real tapas anyway, who the hell cares?!

Gambas al Ajillo

In a large bowl, combine zest from 1 lemon, ½ c. fresh lemon juice, 2 cloves finely minced garlic, ¼ c. dry white wine (from Spain, natch), ¼ c. extra-virgin olive oil, ½ small red onion thinly sliced, and about 2 sprigs finely chopped fresh parsley.

Rinse, de-vein, and peel about 2 lb. large shrimp. You can take the tails off, but I left them on as “handles.”

Poach peeled shrimp in simmering water for about 1 minute, until they are opaque. Remove from water, and immediately place into the bowl with the sauce. Toss to coat the hot shrimp, cover, and let stand at room temperature until they are ready to serve, or in the refrigerator if making it ahead. Garnish with fresh chopped parsley and serve with toasted, thinly sliced bread.

tags :: food : and drink : spanish : cooking : recipes : parties : los angeles

Putting My MBA to Good Use – Croquetas de Salmón

Going to business school a few years ago was a much needed, very welcome, voluntary break from the “real” working world (unlike this externally induced little break I am on now). However refreshing it was though, I don’t remember much of my two years of accounting, finance, strategy & operations, and marketing because, well, truth be told, the business school curriculum didn’t teach me anything that I didn’t already know. Five years of consulting prior to school was like business boot camp.

When clients asked me if I could integrate a sexy new pharmaceuticals order processing system with a legacy accounting system, I snuck back to my expense-account hotel and taught myself the debits-on-the-left, credits-on-the-right of accounting on the ancient, noisy treadmill of the hotel’s stinky little “workout room” on the mezzanine level. I learned more strategy and operations in three days locked up in a conference room with WSJ-quoting executives, drawing flowcharts in full technicolor with dry-erase markers on walls that were floor to ceiling whiteboards than I did in 10 weeks of Strategy with an insane Harvard MBA professor. I was a marketing case study long before I ever had to read a marketing case study and filter out the 4Ps for some imaginary toy company. Finance – well, now, that’s a different story. Dad taught me the Rule of 72 at the dinner table when I was five. :)

Yes, I’m saying that I’m a business genius! Let’s just ignore, for the moment, the fact that I’m not working, even though I mention it every chance I get, okay?

The bottom line, (which is business for “net income”) is that business school was a wee bit of a net loss, and if you’re using excel, “loss” conditionally formats to red, in parentheses.

Except for one thing. Pinxo.

In my penultimate (I didn’t learn that word in b-school) term of my business school education, I took a business plan writing class. While all the other groups monopolized campus conference rooms to formulate grand strategic schemes for nanotechnological and wireless mobile world domination, I and my merry band of rogue classmates held strategic “board” meetings at LA’s local tapas bars. We did comparative pricing studies between beer, wine, with a few cocktails thrown in as controls. We did comprehensive “field research” to prove to our investors that yes, southern California is indeed, preparado a gozar the tapas revolution. We made our (elevator) pitcher of sangria and by the time we got to the top floor, LA was starving for our new tapas bar and lounge, Pinxo.

Pinxo (which is pronounced “peen-sho”) is a term that is used in the southern Spain region of Andalucía to refer to what we commonly call tapas. In Andalucia, tapas are usually small, thin sandwiches that accompany a drink, and the pinxo is the toothpick that holds the bread and meat together. We picked “Pinxo” as our working name because we thought it was significant and unique. Besides, “Cobras & Matadors” was already taken. ;)

I had eaten my fair share of paella, and few simple tapas-as-appetizers before, but never the breadth and depth of authentic Spanish tapas that I did in that sangria-induced hazy quarter of business school – patatas bravas, croquetas de jamón serrano, gambas al ajillo, and always with churros y chocolate as a sweet, semi-sobering ending. My love for Spanish cuisine that had been slowly simmering in the subconscious of my stomach had turned into rolling boil of a love affair. When our little low-tech restaurant idea made it to the final round of a high-tech heavy business plan competition, there was no turning back.

Pinxo earned “A” in class, but didn’t win the business plan competition. We lost the $10,000 to some wireless mobile dating dorks, but with a recipe for croquetas, who’s the real winner here, huh?!

Yeah, I thought so.

Croquetas that appear on tapas menus are typically made from jamón Serrano (Serrano ham), pollo, or bacalao, a dried, salted cod. I love love love love bacalao, but who the hell has the time to soak a whole side of salt-cured fish in milk for three days, changing the milk avery few hours?! I used salmon, which I doubt is ever used in Spain to make croquetas, but it’s close enough. Salmon is fish just like bacalao, and heck, salmón rhymes with jamón.

say “salmon balls” without laughing

Croquetas de Salmón with Lemon Caper Aioli

In a medium saucepan, melt 2 T butter and saute 1 finely chopped onion and 1 finely minced garlic clove until onions are translucent.

Add 12-16 oz. smoked salmon, ¼ c. finely chopped fresh parsley, salt and pepper to taste, and stir about 5 minutes until salmon breaks up and is heated through.

Sprinkle ¼ c. fine plain breadcrumbs and 1 c. heavy cream over salmon, stir, and cook until cream cooks down and mixture is thickened.

Remove saucepan from heat, cover, and refrigerate for at least 1 hour, overnight is okay.

When the salmon is cool, roll about 1½-2 T. of the mixture into 1″ balls. “Salmon balls” makes me giggle like a middle schooler.

Dredge each salmon ball in all purpose flour, shake off excess, dip in beaten egg (it will take about 2 large eggs for the croquetas), then in plain breadcrumbs. I used panko, the light Japanese style beadcrumb sometimes used for tempura.

Deep fry croquetas in hot oil until they are light golden brown. (I actually had about 1″ oil in a deep frying pan and fried one side at a time). When you remove them from the oil to drain, they will continue to cook an darken to a toasty brown.

Serve with an aioli that has been mixed with chopped capers and extra lemon juice.

tags :: food : and drink : spanish : cooking : recipes : parties : los angeles

Since I Can’t Party, I’ll Just…Party – Avocado Citrus Salad

If you take part in the LA nightlife, more specifically, the club scene, then you’re probably familiar with club promoters. You may not know them personally, for who really knows Mr. Bolthouse, but you know what I’m talking about. They are the people who throw nightly parties at various venues around town. Club promoters are different from club owners, who are the people who actually own the venue. Club owners have thrown down the fat cash for the real estate. Club promoters, however, are the ones who come in at 6 pm on Friday night with their crew – sound, lighting, visual effects, dj, go-go dancers, etc. etc. They don’t pay the rent for the place, but likely they share revenues from the cover charge and the bar with the club owner. The promoter doesn’t own the place, but when the bass starts to boom, well, really, the promoter owns the place.

As greasy, slimy, pale-skinned, fat with cash but gaunt with drugs as promoters are, sometimes I wish I could be a club promoter. For what better career in the world is there than to cruise from lush club to plush club with your entourage and throw the best damned parties that anyone has ever experienced? I love the music, I love the dancing, but what I would love the most is seeing everyone enjoying themselves. What a rush. Throwing parties gives me a rush.

When it really comes down to the shiny disco balls, though, I know I’d never make it as club promoter, so I stick with entertaining at home. I love throwing dinner parties.

We started with sangria for a Spanish-themed dinner party.

not quite a shiny disco ball

Though everything else on the menu was heavily influenced by Spain (posts to follow in one lovely week-long DJ set, with a few restaurant remixes thrown in), the avocado citrus salad with toasted walnuts and citrus vinaigrette could not have been more California. (Actually, that’s not true because the salad could have been more California if left the citrus off and though the nuts were toasted, they were way too fat to be from California.)

There is a reason that there are oranges, lemons, and limes in sangria. Citrus fruits grow in Spain. Yes! It’s incredible! Let me impress you with my knowledge of global-economics. Spain is a leading world producer of oranges, lemons, and limes, and is number one for those citrus fruits in the European region. Okay, so that’s just my ability to google on demand. However, I don’t recall ever seeing avocadoes on a menu in a Spanish restaurant. I couldn’t help the avocadoes though because everyone f–king loves avocadoes. Is it enough to say that the Spaniards had a very strong influence on California’s history? *eh* It’s good enough for me. At least I didn’t try to serve guacamole.

“Recipes” for salads are totally stupid. I mean seriously now, who doesn’t know how to make a salad?!?! But since a salad is just cattle feed without dressing, the recipe for a salad is really for the dressing. Unless the recipe tells you to use a bottled dressing, in which case you should never speak to the person who gave you the recipe.

Avocado Citrus Salad with Toasted Walnuts and Citrus Vinaigrette

To make the dressing, whisk together ¼ cup fresh orange juice, ¼ cup fresh lemon juice, 1 tablespoon honey, 1 teaspoon Dijon mustard, ½ teaspoon of cumin powder, a dash of black pepper, and 1 garlic clove that has been very finely minced with 1 teaspoon salt. (I actually had to use very finely chopped onions because one of my guests is allergic to garlic – the horror!)

Pour ½ cup walnut oil (olive oil is okay, too) in a slow, steady stream into the bowl while whisking vigorously.

Obviously, everything should be adjusted to personal taste, then tossed with greens.

Though I have a shameful love for iceberg lettuce, and really, any type of lettuce will do, I used mixed baby greens. Washed and dried, natch. (Even if the greens come from a bag!)

Avocadoes are simply sliced, but do this last, right before serving since they will turn brown.

The citrus are oranges and grapefruits. I have seen chefs get knife-happy, cutting all the way through the skin, then slicing out each segment from the fruit, but I don’t like the way the fruit looks. I peel the outer skin of oranges and grapefruits by hand, then peel off the transparent skin from each segment. It requires a lot more time and dexterity to get all of the white pith and veins off the “back” of each segment, but it looks so much better, and since this is a California salad, looks count. ;)

To toast walnuts, simply shake them around a hot pan over medium heat until they smell like nuts. I have no idea how else to describe the point at which the nuts are done. I thought about candied walnuts, but decided they would be too sweet with the vinaigrette and the fruit. Obviously, any kind of nut is fine.

tags :: food : and drink : california : cooking : recipes : parties : los angeles

Something Sexy About Sanjay – Tantra’s India’s Oven

When I used to have a real job with real co-workers and not this self “employed” daily blog-upation with virtual co-workers who pop into my dining room “cubicle” via IM, I didn’t know what half the people in the office breakroom were talking about when it came to prime time television. There was a period of almost two weeks when no one could talk about anything else but season premieres. The big, obvious dramas were the subject of passionate speculation, and strangely, even prime time’s new mainstream, the reality show, got quite a bit of discussion. How many bachelors fired their bachelorettes on an amazing race around the real world? I would quickly dispense the Kirkland brand coffee from the machine, grab a packet of Splenda, then duck out of the kitchen back to my desk. Good thing I kept my mouth shut because I thought Lost *ahem* was a reality show.

I have almost no knowledge of what goes on in the “real” broadcast tv world because the only channels I ever watch are the Food Network and CNN. I watch channel 55 for obvious reasons. CNN, however is a little harder to explain. *blush*

I have an incurable crush on Dr. Sanjay Gupta. *she swoons*

It started several years ago when I was glued to the television set watching the Middle East explode into sandy shrapnel all over the screen. Dr. Gupta, or “Sanj” as I like to call him, was embedded right there in the thick of it, reporting news from a medical perspective. I doubt I could tell you anything about what actually happened during that time, but I can tell you that Sanj was so incredibly hot in his desert camo and khakis. LOL!

I won’t go into why I developed this mad crush on CNN’s senior medical correspondent, for how does one explain how a crush just suddenly overtakes someone? I will say, however, that my crush on Dr. Gupta is certainly not surprising – I had an even bigger crush back in high school on Suresh, the all-star, all-state tennis playing salutatorian. Ever since that senior prom with Suresh who is now a doctor somewhere on the east coast (what? you don’t google your ex-flames?), ever since my nights and days with a brilliant neurosorgeon reporter via television, I have never gotten over my Indian fever.

something tantric above wilshire blvd

So it’s easy to see why once again, I have made my way to India’s Oven.

Tantra’s India’s Oven was just “India’s Oven” the last time I ate there, but I suspect that the ownership has changed, and to distinguish themselves from India’s Tandoori a block away, or India’s Oven in Westwood, the new management added “Tantra.” For a Hindu god’s sake! The place couldn’t scream more loudly to me with its name. ;)

The restaurant, though conveniently located on Wilshire just east of Barrington, is quite inconveniently located in an office building with deep dark underground parking, hidden entries, narrow hallways, and oddly zig-zagging staircases. By the time you find your way out of the parking matrix, you realize you’ve only made it to the entrance for Tony Maroni’s Pizza on the ground floor. Tantra’s India’s Oven is one more flight of stairs, on the second floor. Sometimes though, having to wait a little, having to work up to it, makes it that much better.

The interior of the restaurant looks exactly the same. Somehow though, now with the new name “Tantra,” what once I thought was too-dimly-lit is now dark and mysterious. What was formerly a sadly outdated ‘70s basement rec room decor is now retro-kitschy romantic. Eerie red lighting, mirrors, and shadows thrown by flickering candles feel less like a horror movie and more like…sexy. Even a seat that used to be drowned out by Metro Rapids grumbling down Wilshire Boulevard is now really a romantic table with a second-story view.

The menu is also the same as before, and not surprisingly, the same as just about every other Indian restaurant on the Westside. Meats from the tandoor range from an $8.95 chicken tikka to fish and rack of lamb for $14.95. Tantra has typical curries, which are all about $8.95 a la carte. Though it seems par for the Indian course, Tantra gets extra points for having a full bar. A full bar!

It’s fairly clear by now that there is a small, unchanging roster of things I eat at Indian restaurants – chicken tikka masala, saag paneer, bengan bhartha, and aloo gobi. If I’m feeling especially adventurous, or if a bottle of IPA has gotten the better of my sensibilities, I may wander into pure tandoor territory. The point is, when it comes to Indian food, I am very…missionary-style.

It must have been the name, Tantra, that put some strange spell on me as I looked over the menu and pondered what to order. I had all but a sip or two of water and yet I was feeling as hot as a spoonful of straight green chili achaar. I wanted something to try something new and different. I felt crazy. Wild. Chicken? No, baby, how about something different for a change? Tonight, I want a real animal. Something that walks on all fours. Bring me…lamb.

garlic naan to ease into it

animal-style: saag lela

When the food came to the table, conversation quieted. Are we really doing this? Am I really going to try something totally new and exotic? We had to ease into with garlic naan – something familiar first, then the rest. Saag lela is lamb that has been marinated and cooked with saag (spinach). Either the marinade or the cooking method, or perhaps a combination of both, had rendered the lamb so tender that the meat fell apart with a fork, and the saag had practically melted into a dark green, vegetal butter. I couldn’t believe I was eating lamb, but more importantly, I couldn’t believe how much I liked it. The saag lela was making me *mmm* with every little bite.

malai kofta random selection

We even broke out of the usual vegetable routine and selected randomly from the menu as if we had been blindfolded. Malai kofta are chopped vegetables, beaten and bound together into croquettes, and served dripping with a luscious, creamy golden sauce. I have no idea what went into the sauce, and I couldn’t quite place a spice that was familiar but not usual, but whatever it was, I think I may have even been sent into some head thrown back, eyes-half-closed Indian vegetable demi-trance, likely letting go occasional giggles and sounds of pleasant surprise.

Tantra’s India’s Oven was not an earth-shattering experience with respect to the restaurant itself nor the service, for even with the change in name, it is still not really all that different from the other Indian restaurants on the Westside. However, it was fun to try something new – dishes that I wouldn’t normally order were surprisingly good and now, have added to this Indian fever.

Paging Dr. Gupta….

Tantra’s India’s Oven
11645 Wilshire Boulevard (@ Barry Avenue)
Second Floor
Los Angeles, CA 90025
310.207.5522
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tags :: food : and drink : indian : restaurants : reviews : los angeles

AA for the Naughty Hostess – Sangria

If I mix together sangria two hours before a party in order to chill it, but end up drinking three glasses before the gorgeous glass pitcher ever makes it into the refrigerator, does that mean I’m an alcoholic?

A lush?

A very naughty hostess?

No. No. Yes. And it also makes it very hard to fry potatoes.

Sangria for the Naughty Hostess

If you think far ahead enough, chill all of the liquids before mixing together the sangria, even the red wine. Pipe down, wine freak, you’re going to be mixing it with orange juice and soda for God’s sake, so it’s probably better to get through the shock now.

Pour 2 bottles of red wine into a large glass pitcher. The glass will let the sexy slices of citrus shine through. Add 1 cup brandy, 1 cup Triple Sec, ½ cup fresh squeezed orange juice, ½ cup sugar, and juice from half a lime. If you’re afraid that stirring too hard to dissolve the sugar will break the glass pitcher, then dissolve the sugar in some of the orange juice first.

Top everything in the pitcher off with 2 cups club soda. My friend Steve told me that the secret ingredient (which isn’t so secret anymore – ha!) in his lady-love-winning sangria is Fanta orange soda. Fanta! Makes me want to put my hair in a bouffant and wear Austin Powers-like ’60s sex-kitten hot pants and go-go boots. Fanta-bulous!

Add thin slices of 1 orange, 1 lemon, 1 lime, and 1 apple. Some people cut the fruit into small dices, but I prefer the round slices because they look pretty and they stay in the pitcher. I like to drink my sangria without the fruit in my glass, although there are plenty of people who like to bite into those alcohol-soaked apples.

Chill the sangria for a few hours in the refrigerator. Do not add ice. Ice will water it down, and I don’t know anything worse than a watered-down sangria.

tags :: food : and drink : drinks : wine : spanish : parties : los angeles

Dine & Dish no. 6 – Amazing Graze

Dine & Dish missed out on the Holidays, thank God, for my belt doesn’t have any more holes to loosen. But it’s back, and it’s time for number 6. The theme for this month’s Dine & Dish is…

AMAZING GRAZE

Graze. I’m not suggesting we all jump into the nearest pasture and start foraging for clover. No, I mean graze as in nibble. Taste. Have a bite. That’s the way I love to eat – grazing on small plates.

Almost every cuisine has a version of small plates. Tapas. Dim sum. Meze. Izakaya. Whatever they are, they’re perfect petite portions, whether you’re trying to stick to a new year’s resolution that starts with “D,” ends with “T,” and rhymes with “quiet” or want a bite to go with your beer at the bar, or just have some form of gustatory ADD like me and can’t focus on one big plate of anything. And since we have a romantic, pink and red lovey-dovey holiday coming up, I can’t think of a better way to spend President’s Day than to share small plates with a lover. ;) (Valentine’s Day?!?! What the hell is that?)

In case it doesn’t ring any bells, Dine & Dish is an online food blogger event in which bloggers take a month (or more or less depending on how cranky I am) to dine out. Then on a given day, everyone posts their experiences on their blogs, and shortly thereafter, a deliciously juicy dishing session of everyone’s adventures gets posted here.

We’ve had five so far…For our inaugural D&D, all of us social butterflies landed at bars of all sorts to have a bite for Barfly. Our second helping was served up by the Queen of Cuisine, giving mad props to the women who run kitchens and restaurants like nobody’s business. On our third go ’round, we hazed the Freshmen, restaurants that are less than a year old. Who will ever forget the fourth edition with our celebrity guest host, Sam, for Rachael Ray for a Day!?! And last, but not least, we all gave in to the Asian Persuasion.

There are no hard and fast rules for Dine and Dish here – just fun and food, but just in case there is someone who likes to have guidelines:

1. Interpret the theme as you wish – AMAZING GRAZE
2. Go eat any time betwixt now and Monday, February 27, 2006
3. Write about it on your blog anytime on or before the 27th.
4. Email me the link (Please don’t forget to email…this is the only way I can keep track)
5. I will put a nice, neat little summary of all the experiences, linking out to everyone else’s posts on Wednesday, March 1st (or a teeny bit later if I get lazy).

Now, let’s start slinging those small plates around the table!

tags :: food : and drink : events : restaurants : reviews : los angeles

It Slices! It Dices! – Delicious Dining Index

Back when I was working, when I had an employer, when “double-D” meant direct deposit, when I had to be somewhere by 8 am in business casual and not walk five paces from my bedroom to my “office” that doubles as a dining room every night in the same Juicy jogging suit I’ve been wearing since last Thursday, back when I had a real job, I worked with data. Lots and lots of data. Though my jobs have differed in function and title, my career has always been about data. From online stores to order-processing systems to customer relationship management to marketing, it’s all about data.

It suits me, the list-making freak that I am, to work with data. Lists, even lists of lists, are just…data. It also helps that I’m the teensiest bit of an anal-retentive, obsessive-compulsive, detail-oriented perfectionist organization freak. When I want to be, that is. ;) I’m also a control freak.

But data by itself is worthless information. It’s just a bunch of bits and bytes, numbers and letters that represent who, what, when, where, and how much. Unless that data is organized, you’ll never know that D56778H1 is really a person with a name, an address, a user ID, who spent $64 on his last order. What do you mean his last order was three years ago? What happened to customer number D56778H1?!?! Data by itself is simply information, which is nice to have, but data that is organized is intelligence. Intelligence can answer the question, “Why?”

My old mentor/boss always asked me “Why?” The only way I could ever answer him was by slicing and dicing the enormous, mutant overgrown Maui onion that was our customer database – alphabetized, chronological order, sorted by ID, grouped by month, sub-totalled, totalled, grand-totalled.

Sliced and diced. I was a 500 horsepower Cuisinart for data.

I do a lot of slicing and dicing these days, but it’s a little different – onions, potatoes, carrots, even…whole chickens. That’s what happens when a food blog become your daily (pre)occupation. But now I’m trying to organize my Delicious Life, just as I said I would in a list of resolutions so that the four people (you! that includes you!) who actually read my blog can slice and dice this mess of data.

The Delicious Dining Index is nowhere near the sophisticated databases I dealt with in my previous life, but it’s a start at organization. It’s just a simple alphabetical list of all the places that have contributed in this last year to The Delicious Life – drinking and dining out only. The “dabbling in the kitchen” part is not in scope. We’ll have to revise the project plan for phase 2. ;)

After today, the link to the delicious spree from A to Z will hidden somewhere in that sidebar thing over there –>

tags :: food : and drink : blogs : blogging : reviews : los angeles