Really?!

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SNOW! .... Rain, Rain ... and Rain

I'm exhausted!

My sister came to Albuquerque (she flew into the teeny-tiny airport) last Wednesday night. We went immediately to the delicious but rather ghetto Frontier so that I could throw her head-first into New Mexican cuisine (carne adovada burrito and green chile stew).

Because I had to work, she pretty much stayed in my apartment, watching random movies on my DVR and getting some work done. On Thursday night, we went to Sadie's, another great New Mexican place that is not, perhaps, the classiest. (Their website is just horrible.) More delicious carne adovada, plus the sister's first taste of sopaipillas, a very New Mexican thing to eat.

When we left Sadie's, the rather pounding rain had turned into beautiful, fluffy, lovely, delicious snow!

It was beautiful! And also very cold and wet, which no one ever tells you about, annoyingly. We had a very "white Christmas" moment, listening to Christmas music in the cozy-warm car while driving cautiously through the flurry.

No one ever mentions how quiet snow is, either. Rain comes down pretty loudly, banging into the car with a rattle, making its presence known. Snow lands gently and hugs the car with nary a sound, making it seem happy and fun. I loved it!

Of course, no snow lasts forever. There was a tiny little flurry in the morning, but it had pretty much melted away. I couldn't even call into work and skip out due to a snow day. I was dejected.

I got out of work on Friday at about 9:00 or so, late enough that it was already frigid and pitch black outside. No snowflakes in sight. I was exhausted from the working and the stressing (Fridays feel like the last chance to get things done, last chance to squeeze everything in).

My sister (who had flown out to road trip with me) and I had decided that in order to surprise our parents, we would get to LA on Saturday night, Sunday morning at the latest. It's a rough drive in the winter, because the usual route I take (the 40) is about 3 - 4 hours shorter than the longer but warmer (i.e. less frozen) route that I took this time (the 10).

We drove south for a few hours on Friday night, arriving around 2:00 a.m. in Las Cruces. I was wiped out, but still didn't sleep until 4:00 or so. (Checking in was an insanely long ordeal- people that work night shifts need to be better prepared for things to happen.)

The next morning saw us checking out around 10:00 and heading west. It got warmer and warmer and warmer, eventually hitting the high 60's! I was delighted and confused, all at once. It was nice to not shiver, but it was odd to actually feel hot. I had to wear sunglasses for the first time in ages.

Since we'd already had a white Christmas in the snow, we stopped in Tucson and had a hot Christmas with tamales, a traditional Christmas food in Mexico and some South American countries. We stopped by the Tucson Tamale Company, where the tamales were stupendous, the salsa delicious, and the sides a little lackluster. I had a Santa Fe (pork, green chile sauce, and cheese) and a JoJo (very spicy, apparently, with chipotle beef, jalapeno masa, and cheese). I expected to really love the JoJo, since I love spicy, but I actually liked the Santa Fe much more. It was porky, with a really nice green chile, and melted, delicious cheese.

I want another tamale now. I shouldn't have written about them.

So we got the east coast snowy Christmas out of the way, the southwest tamale Christmas done, complete with hot weather, and headed to our Korean church Christmas.

As soon as we got into California, the rain began. The unending, pounding rain. What is going on here?? It's been raining non-stop the entire time I've been home, and I don't appreciate or know how to deal with this amount of water.

We had our Korean church Christmas on Sunday, regardless of the rain, and it was a rousing success. I feel sufficiently full of holiday cheer now (though I went Christmas shopping yesterday and my goodwill toward mankind vanished).

Last night (this whole week, actually) is baking night at Chez Sister, a.k.a. Chez Butter, and I helped with a couple types of cookies after my exhausting shopping expeditions. I rolled, filled, and washed dishes, then fell into bed so tired that I didn't even need to read for a while to try to get sleepy. It was delightful.

Woke up to more rain. Sigh.

I am so ready for the rain and the working to be over. I don't mind rain as much when I don't have to work, and I can observe it while cozy at home. Working until Thursday, then off to my parents' where they and my sister's bunnies are holed up, so we can all eat and drink and be merry until we're puking up sparkles.

Whee!

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(500) Days of Summer, For the Love of LA

(I'm warning you now, if you haven't watched this movie, this post will not make any sort of sense.)

It's been almost a year since I first wrote about "(500) Days of Summer."

Lots of things have happen since last August. I find that when I watch movies, a lot of what I take away has to do with my emotions at the time. When I watched "Paper Heart," I was feeling rather chirpy and optimistic, so I felt buoyed and cheered by the movie (review some other time).

I knew that I really liked "(500) Days of Summer" when I re-watched it and found that I was carried away by the film, without being unduly influenced by my own internal thoughts. I fell back in love with Tom Hansen, I rekindled my love of The Smiths and Regina Spektor, and I re-listened to the soundtrack, which I had purchased after my first viewing of the movie. Still good.

More than anything, the way Los Angeles is portrayed in this movie is amazing. I don't know if this would be the same if I didn't know the city, but I do know the city, and I love the city, and this movie really beautifully displays honest parts of the city without Vaseline-smeared lenses of googly-eyed love. One of the scenes in this movie that really sticks out in my mind is when Tom goes to a rooftop party at Summer's apartment and, realizing that she is engaged and his fantasy of a romantic reunion are kaput, leaves in a cloud of tears and self-hatred. He emerges from her building, banging through black iron bars, behind which are green plants and pretty flowers. He's back out on the concrete, outside of Summer's cage, the confines of which are where he wants to be. He doesn't want to be released back into the city, he wants to stay trapped.

It's a sad scene, to be sure, and the side-by-side of Tom's expectations versus the reality of the party are depressing and poignant. I love that. I didn't really get that until the second viewing of this movie because the first time I saw the film, I was too distracted by the fact that Summer lived in the Barclay, a building that I almost lived in. I looked at places in both the Barclay and the Piccadilly and ended up at the Piccadilly, for a year of living amongst the worst drivers in the city. There were a lot of those distractions for me when I first watched the movie, and it took me away from the story. This time, I was better prepared for it and less distracted, to discover new depths to the film that I very much enjoyed.

When Tom dances in glee after a big night with Summer, with cartoon bluebird, UCLA marching band, and pedestrians in blue, he trips merrily through the Civic Center Mall and right in front of the Arthur Will Memorial Fountain, places I have been. Regretfully, I have not danced in any of the places Tom dances in, though I did have a memorable dance in a bookstore once to an Etta James song. (For all the LA locations, see this handy Google map.)

The gray cement tunnel that Tom and Summer drive into as they listen to Carla Bruni, the ugly parking structures, the cracked sidewalks, the suburban soccer fields, the douchey bars, all of these are background blips in the movie but such strong indicators of LA. As much as the movie is about a relationship between two people, it's also about this flawed but interesting city. There's a vibe and an energy that the movie really captured, that isn't really describable but very palpable as soon as you set foot in LA (downtown, really, the westside does not have the same sensibilities at all).

I don't go to downtown often, but I always find it immensely absorbing every time I do. I used to go downtown for art shows, where wine and cheese were served alongside avant garde and often gruesome pieces of art. I don't pretend to have like all the shows, but I loved the people: the weird, the ugly, the incredible, and I always enjoyed how the art crowd devolved into a party crowd by the time the liquor was dwindling down to its final dregs.

Tom and Summer and all their friends are definitely the softer side of downtown LA. There are plenty of harder-edged people there, that wouldn't give a second glance to a sweet boy like Tom. It's part of what makes downtown so fun, and gives it its unique energy.

For a movie made on a shoestring budget (less than $10 million), it's amazing how well everything was depicted. Marc Webb, thank you for the love sonnet to LA, it makes me miss home.

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Off, Off, and Away

It's been busy lately, not with work, but with settling into Albuquerque and getting my brain put together. I'm still slightly sick from altitude-itis, so have been running about 80% speed, which means everything takes longer. My memory is suffering from this strange phenomenon, making trips to the store interesting, since I seem to forget about half the stuff I need to buy.

All in all, these have been hectic but productive weeks here in New Mexico. So, of course, I'm going to tear myself away from here and go back to LA for a while! Just when I was getting used to things...

I'm going to work out of the LA facility for a week or two, depending on how things go, and then mosey on back to New Mexico.

It's so strange being here, because I literally don't know anybody. There's no chance of me running into someone I know on the street or in a store or whatever, and that's an odd sensation. In LA, I was forever seeing people I knew no matter what hole-in-the-wall place I went to. I kind of miss those spontaneous moments; they were fun.

I'll be home just in time for Mother's Day, but I sent my mom flowers today. She e-mailed me photos, because she's a pretty awesomely tech-savvy baby boomer:

Pretty cute, I think. I love tulips, and I think my mom likes them, too. I don't know why, but I stopped buying roses for my mother a few years ago. Maybe when I started to get roses? I think with the emphasis placed on roses for Valentine's Day, it seems like a more romantic flower. Tulips are bright, cheery, and seem to last longer than roses do, so they're what I go with.

Slightly worrying to me lately is the fact that I don't speak in Korean to anyone around here. I don't see my family for hours at a time. I feel like I'm losing my grasp of Korean, slowly but surely. This can't be good. I have to stockpile up on my Korean while I'm in LA.

I have a long roadtrip ahead of me this weekend, but I think it'll be peaceful and calm and hopefully even relaxing. Blogging from my phone will probably follow shortly.

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Darya Restaurant

My cousin, the elder son (of two) of my eldest uncle, flew into town from Korea this past Monday. I didn't get to see him until last night, when my cousin, sister, sister's friend, and I all gathered in West L.A. for dinner.

This cousin is the only cousin out of my 22 first cousins (one of whom died as a child, so really 21) that is older than me (he's a year older), so I really love him. He takes the Korean pressure to get married and have babies right off me, at least on my mother's side of the family. I'm the oldest in my generation on my father's side of the family, so no reprieve from the nagging there. Sigh.

I haven't seen my cousin in fifteen (!) years, and I was a bit nervous about meeting him, a virtual stranger. But it wasn't awkward at all. We fell into a rapid-speed conversation right away and I realized that though we are older, we're still the same people. I am so glad he's here.

(Don't judge us by this photo, I don't have a lick of makeup on and we all just ate an enormous meal of Persian / Iranian goodness. Also, he's not that short- he's stooping to try to be at the same height as my sister and me.)

Since the cousin is so very new to America (he came in 1994, I think?), we decided to broaden his horizons. We decided, adventurously, to take him to eat Persian food, which he'd never had before. Ever. In his whole life. My sister is really the one that goes adventurous, I tend to stick with what's close, so she picked the restaurant.




Darya Restaurant
12130 Santa Monica Blvd.
Los Angeles, CA 90025
http://www.daryarestaurant.com/

Telephone: 310.442.9000

Call for hours.


There was soft mood lighting, which helped the strange ornamental plaster pieces stuck to the ceiling, walls, and random columns. There was also, and this was my favorite part, a gently rotund man with two electric keyboards that serenaded us. He was awesome, curly mullet (!) and all. He sang everything from "Just The Way You Look Tonight" to some Beatles all the way to what I would assume were traditional Persian or Iranian songs. And he also played and sang "Happy Birthday" for some woman that shrieked when the waiters emerged from the kitchen with a cake, ablaze with a large candle.

Such a kitschy place, this one! Their ... fresco? ... on the wall was one of the highlights, for sure.

(please excuse the crap iPhone photo)

Hai and I work next door to each other (literally), so he drove me there. This is considered "saving gas" in L.A., that we only had two cars among four people. My sister and my cousin got to Darya before we did, and my sister, the most impatient hungry person I've ever met in my life, decided to go ahead and order everything before we arrived. It was actually fun to not know what was coming and just sit down and start eating.

We started with dolemeh (is the plural dolemehs?), which are ground beef, rice, tarragon, split peas, green onions, basil, parsley, and other herbs wrapped and cooked in grape leaves. They are vinegary and delicious, especially good when smeared with yogurt sauce and wrapped in thin, flaky lavash. I think lavash is a type of naan (or nan), but much thinner and less yeasty, almost crisp.

The main dishes came out all together, family style. I loved our waiter, who came over after the dolemehs disappeared and started clearing the middle of the table, pushing our plates closer to the edges to make room for the enormous square platters that emerged, piled high with deliciousness.

We had baghali polo, Basmati rice mixed with dill and lima beans, giving the rice a green tinge. The beans were soft and wrinkly, very yielding and almost creamy. Next to the baghali polo was a pile of regular Basmati rice. I like mixing them so that the rice-to-lima-bean ratio is altered a bit.

We got a platter full of meat. Literally, platter o' meat. The unanimous favorite was the chicken koobideh, ground chicken that's been seasoned and charbroiled on skewers. It's really good and the only way that ground chicken is delicious and not throat-parchingly dry. The koobideh at Darya was just a tiny bit dry, but saved by the yogurt sauce and the seasoning.

There was also shish kabobs, which are mandatory because they're steak and very recognizable for someone who's never eaten Persian food before in his life. He needed something he felt comfortable with, after all. It was fine. Not seasoned or anything, and cooked to a passably good medium-rare. It wasn't the best cut of meat, so it was a bit chewy- again, saved by the yogurt sauce.

The last of the meat was lamb chops- very small chops that were marinated and charbroiled. I don't like lamb but I always try it, because I feel like maybe I'll like it someday. Nope, still don't like it. But the marinade was good, at least. I felt that it was just slightly undercooked- pink lamb weirds me out, for some reason.

Their charbroiled tomatoes, onions, and green bell peppers were charred in black stripes but still raw in the middle, perfectly smoky and so simple but so wonderful alongside the assortment of meat-a-palooza.

We ate really shockingly quickly, which explains the lack of food photos. It was about 8:30 or so by the time we ate, and we were all starved. Everything, we concurred at the end of the main course, was yummy.

Then came dessert, where things went slightly awry. We all shared, which was good, because we didn't finish what we ordered.

There was pistachio Persian ice cream, which had more of a texture of a strange sorbet- it seemed icy rather than creamy. The only thing that redeemed the ice cream was the fact that it had large chunks of pistachio in it. It tasted like soapy coconut more than anything else. Weird.

Since bakhlava is traditional, we ordered one. It was teeny-tiny and overly sweet and overly gingery. I couldn't taste the pistachios or almonds or walnuts at all, just the overwhelming taste of honey and maybe corn syrup. Something was off. Their pastry chef, perhaps?

My sister got a Turkish coffee, and that was good, as any strong drink full of caffeine is. The cup and saucer were adorable, and I wish that I had had the wherewithal to snap a photo- even a crappy iPhone photo. Regrettably, I was too full of koobideh to do anything but sigh by that point.

It was fun, the restaurant was fun, the conversation was great (a Korean man and a Vietnamese man make for funny dinner companions), and it was more amazing than I could say to see my cousin again (though I want to chop off his hair, which is longer than mine).

We went to my house at the end of the night. In the photo, my cousin and my sister are on the porch swing (porch rocker, really) that's on the front porch- they ran up the brick path and plopped down. Aren't they cute? None of us look alike, really, but that's okay. We all talk and laugh and eat alike, and that's what's important.

The sister, the cousin, and I are meeting up for a cousinly dinner tonight. We don't know where we're going yet, but I'm sure there will be a post about it soon.

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Han Bat Sul Lung Tang (한밭 설렁탕), Koreatown

There is a food that I love, love more than most other foods. I can eat it for breakfast, lunch, or dinner, and any other time in between, though it's traditionally a breakfast food. It's so good, in fact, that I crave it and must have it at least once every couple months, or I become ornery and whiny (okay, whinier than usual).

I had seollongtang (설렁탕, also spelled sul lung tang) for lunch today, and am so happy now. Mmm, mmm, good has never been as good as this!

(picture taken from Yelp)

I texted my sister this morning, having found out today that I will be out of town for work on Monday and Tuesday. We were supposed to pick up my cousin (flying in from Korea!) from LAX on Monday evening and take him to the parents' house, but I obviously will not be able to make it.

She called me and we chatted for a while, and she mentions seollongtang (설렁탕), the perfect dreary-day fare. I've been at work for a couple hours by this time, and haven't had much to eat, since I'm weaning myself off the master cleanse right now. Though seollongtang largely subsists of a broth made of ox bones, and meat is a bad idea right now, the idea of steaming hot, perfectly seasoned soup with specks of green onions floating on top was too good to resist.

Along with a couple boys, we trekked down to Koreatown to Han Bat, which is ghetto. It's in a strip mall that doesn't even have a parking lot. It's across the street from a Carl's Jr. It's on 5th and Western. But it is also delectable.


Han Bat Sul Lung Tang (한밭 설렁탕)
4163 W. 5th Street
Los Angeles, CA 90020

Telephone: 213.388.9499

Open daily:
7:00 am - 10:00 pm


(I have a quibble with spelling it 'sul lung tang.' I want to say that it's Han Bat Seollongtang, but the actual restaurant spells it Hat Bat Sul Lung Tang. Sigh.)

It's a tiny restaurant, with two rows of tables that extends from the front door all the way to the back of the place, with the kitchen off to the side. The dining area is long and narrow and you can't help but mock the people around you because you're practically sitting on them. Community fun, perhaps?

The Hat Bat Sul Lung Tang menu is sparse- you can get seollongtang, and you can choose what kind of meat goes in it. That's it. I think there are four choices:

Mixed (everything)
Brisket (lean, thin slices of beef)
Flank (flank steak, obviously)
Innards (they don't call it innards, but that's what it is! Tripe, intestine, tongue, and liver, I think. Shudder.)

You receive a bowl of rice, two types of kimchi (cabbage and radish), a giant vat of finely sliced scallion with an accompanying ladle, a small container of fluffy fine sea salt with a small spoon, black pepper, and a little jar of chili sauce. Very simple fare.

Seollongtang is usually served in stone or clay bowls, which retain heat very well and keep the soup scorching, just as it's meant to be. You taste the soup, which has your choice of meat and a handful of boiled cellophane noodles (the same noodles used for japchae). Add as much salt as you think you need. Add pepper. Scallions, if you like them. You can add chili sauce or the dregs of the two types of kimchi if you like it spicy, which I don't. I enjoy my seollontang with salt, pepper, a little scoop of scallion, and take my rice and kimchi on the side.

My sister and I had a legend that we've created between us- if you put a bowl of rice into a bowl of seollongtang, the rice mysteriously disappears! That's not true, of course, but the rice separates into individual grains in the hot soup and you don't get the same mouthfeel. A spoonful of sticky rice dipped into the soup and eaten is very different than a spoonful of soup with rice floating around in it. We both prefer the scoop and spoon method- scoop some rice onto the spoon, then dip the spoon into the soup. I generally like to fish a couple strands of noodles onto the rice, as well.

Today, since I'm trying not to binge, I didn't eat any meat and I ate maybe three or four spoonfuls of rice. I also limited myself to just a few pieces of kimchi, since my stomach probably isn't ready for anything fermented. I did have a couple scoops of scallions and the noodles, because really, I love noodles.

It was perfect for this rainy Saturday, though now I'm back at work and wishing I was still in Koreatown.

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Copa d'Oro, Santa Monica

Copa d'Oro
217 Broadway
Santa Monica, CA 90401
http://copadoro.com/

Telephone: 310.576.3030

Monday - Wednesday:
6:00 pm - 12:00 am
Thursday - Saturday:
6:00 pm - 2:00 am




















I am totally behind on my "Why I Love L.A." quest, which has basically devolved into an exploration of the bars and restaurants of L.A. Not a bad thing. Not bad at all.

I first discovered (I say "discovered," but I really should say "stepped into") Copa d'Oro earlier this year, with a fellow adventurer in L.A. bars.

The first impression I got from the place was great. Discreet doorman/bouncer, who was very polite. The whole place has a sort of throwback-to-the-'40's feel, the kind of feel that makes me think of mahogany, velvet curtains, crystal chandeliers, and barmen. Yes, barmen instead of bartenders.

I really appreciated the thoughtful eye to decor, the comfortable perches scattered here and there and everywhere, and the attractiveness of the place. I'm superficial, good packaging will get me every time.

Good packaging will get me every time, but certainly won't keep me.

The thing I remember most about Copa d'Oro is that it is HOT. Hot like the vents of hell are directly beneath the floor, hot in a way that renders everyone unattractive and irritable. I am practically a native Californian (the first three years of my life were spent in Korea, which has "real" weather). My Californian-ness is absolutely apparent in my temperature tolerance- any lower than 65 and my teeth chatter, any higher than 85 and I whine incessantly until the heat saps me of all strength.

I got through my Copa d'Oro experiences by self-medicating. I enjoy their quirky cocktail menu, and their barmen seem to know what they're doing. My favorites:

High Kick: Buffalo Trace bourbon, Creme de Mure, blackberry, ginger beer, fresh lemon juice.
It's tangy and delicious, and quite a feat- I normally hate bourbon.

Rhode Island Red: Partida Blanco, Chambord, organic agave nectar, fresh lemon juice, ginger beer, fresh raspberry, orange bitter.
I love tequila, so obviously, this one won me over.

Jalisco Flower: Partida Reposado, Elderflower Liqueur, fresh ruby grapefruit, champagne.
My love for tequila is only surpassed by my love of champagne.

I have tried other drinks, but the three above are my tried-and-true favorites. I never even knew that I liked ginger beer until I had it at Copa.

Another bad thing about this place ... the crowd. One of my friends put it really well; he said, "this place is crawling with douches."

So apt, that statement. There were a LOT of totally asinine people there, mostly male, and mostly sweating profusely (ew).

I like Copa just fine for a quick drink. It's within walking distance of a ton of places in Santa Monica (very close to Third Street Promenade) and I have a soft spot for the magical drinks created by their barmen, so definitely worth a pop-in.

I would never make a night of going solely to Copa d'Oro, but that's okay. Bar-hopping is just one more thing I love about L.A.

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Edison, Downtown

Edison Downtown
108 W. 2nd Street
Los Angeles, CA 90012
http://www.edisondowntown.com/

Telephone: 213.613.0000

Wednesday - Friday:
5:00 pm - 2:00 am
Saturday:
8:00 pm - 2:00 am


I'm not going to post a picture of this place, because it's impossible to really do it justice. The look is very industrial-chic, a combination of roaring 20's, art deco, and steamboat interior. Sound weird? That's because it kind of is! (Do check out the website- it sort of gives a good idea of what the place is like.)

But it's lovely, too. The Edison is a nice place- I think the word I would employ is "grownup." Everything's customized, from chairs and tables (modified trunks!) to lights and sinks.

I went on Saturday for a birthday party and had a grand ol' time. Except for the whole absinthe thing, but that was my fault. I insisted on trying a drink with absinthe in it (I tried the Absinthe '75) even though the waitress explicitly asked me if I liked black licorice, because if I didn't, I wouldn't like absinthe. I naively assumed that the licorice taste wouldn't be TOO strong (stupid, stupid, stupid!) and ordered the drink. Yeah, never again.

I had another drink, the Mistress Nouveaux, which I loved. I'm sticking with that one from now on. (Pomegranate martini with a champagne floater- delicious and pink and served in an old-school champagne glass, none of that flute nonsense!)

I had a sip of someone else's Southside Fizz, which was really good. Surprising, because I don't like gin. Yes, I said it- gin sucks. It tastes like vodka gone horribly wrong to me, as if someone didn't make the vodka properly. But the Southside Fizz was great- maybe the citrus really just cut that gin flavor?

A wonderful thing about the Edison is that there is a dress code. Yes, men, you must wear proper attire! Women can get away with a lot, but it cracks me up to see men get turned away at the door (after waiting in line!) because they're not wearing appropriate clothing. I'm mean, but it's funny!

(Very Long Aside: There is a "friend" of mine, who will remain unnamed, who is causing me all kinds of drama. I told one of my other friends this fact: the drama-filled friend is my only frenemy. Seriously, I have no other girlfriends that I would consider frenemies but this one. So the frenemy isn't speaking to me, but won't do the courtesy of telling me WHY SHE ISN'T SPEAKING TO ME. How the flippin' heck do you expect ANY sort of resolution if you won't TELL ME WHAT'S WRONG?! I cannot abide with completely illogical people, it drives me bonkers.

So Frenemy only responds to direct text messaged questions with terse, one-word replies. Does not reply to e-mail. Will not pick up when I call. I know that Frenemy will be at the Edison, and as the week progresses, I am hoping that she will come to her senses (silly me for imagining the best) and actually tell me what is going on.

As I continue trying to resolve a situation that clearly needs more drama (read with a giant amount of sarcasm), I am getting angrier and angrier. Ask anyone in my family: the one sure-fire way of pissing me off is to continue being mad at me. If I, the prickly, passive-aggressive porcupine incapable of sharing my feelings, am reaching out to you REPEATEDLY, you better be absolutely sure that you either want my wrath or are willing to TALK TO ME ALREADY. I think it's safe to say that this woman went with wrath, probably thinking to herself, "Jeanny's wrath. How bad could it be?"

Frenemy and I have a mutual friend at the shindig on Saturday. She, being a kind and considerate person that understands my frustration, warns me when Frenemy is just about to get to the Edison. I resign myself to having to see THAT FACE and am glad that I am sitting at the far end of the table, knowing that it will be very telling when Frenemy gets there to see where she chooses to sit.

Frenemy shows up (having waited in line, alone, for a good half-hour, which I am going to go ahead and call KARMA) and, without sparing me so much as a glance, sits at the opposite end of the table, with as many people between us as possible.

At this point, I am LIVID (also, I have sampled champagne, vodka, gin, and absinthe). I may not get truly angry very often, but when I do, I am tenaciously, determinedly, hellishly mad. I hate cutting people out of my life, as I don't have that many friends that I would consider 'close,' but I'm at that point. I'm done. She had SEVERAL chances and chose to ignore, belittle, and scorn me at every opportunity.

I leave shortly after she gets there because I'm having a hard time not jumping on the table to punch her in the nose.

Whew. I feel better now.

That cow. (I am proud of myself for giving her the moniker 'Frenemy' rather than 'Stupid Heifer.' I've shown restraint; this must be what maturity feels like.)

In all seriousness, though. If you're mad at someone and they keep trying to contact you, why wouldn't you at least tell them why you're mad?? I don't get that part at all. AT ALL. Tell me what's wrong and THEN be mad. Don't be a self-righteous prig that's full of indignation and huffiness. Just DON'T DO IT. GEEZ.

Aside's over, back to the good part of the evening!)

I tried a bit of someone's grilled cheese sandwich, which I found incongruous but delicious. I love cheese, so there wasn't much of a chance that I would have disliked something with cheese and butter (and negligible bread).

The people that work at the Edison were all dressed in 20's style (sort of), flapper dresses and suits and whatnot- even the absinthe fairy. There's a girl with green sparkly wings that pushes an absinthe cart around. Literally a nice cart with what looks like an apothecary box on it that has old-fashioned glass vials and bottles full of a variety of different absinthes. Having had my fill of black licorice for the evening, I didn't try any- I appreciated the green fairy concept, though.

If ever I'm downtown, which I never am, Edison would definitely be the place that I go to for dinner and/or drinks. Provided that I meet the dress code, of course. And also provided that there are no frenemies or heifers or mad cows within my visual range.

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Bigfoot Lodge West

Sorry, sorry, it's been almost a week! I have been a horrendous blogger! Reviewing a bar (again):

Bigfoot Lodge West
10939 Venice Boulevard
Los Angeles, CA 90034

Telephone: 310.287.2200

7:00 pm - 2:00 am


Never heard of Bigfoot Lodge? It's in Los Feliz, on Los Feliz Blvd. I hear there's one in San Francisco, as well, which I have never been to (the bar, not S.F.- definitely been to the city!).

Bigfoot Lodge West opened up this past Wednesday, and a few friends and I decided we'd go check it out. The Bigfoot Lodge in Los Feliz (Silverlake or Atwater Village area, sort of) is fun and silly, a sort of hip version of a hunter's cabin, and we desperately needed some fresh blood in the area. The portion of Venice Blvd. that Bigfoot is on doesn't have enough fun places, other than Saints and Sinners, its sister bar.

Plus, Caroline on Crack's website told me it was fun!

We went pretty early, maybe 8:30 or so, and it wasn't too full. I wanted to get there before massive crowds started forming, because I hate lines and I especially hate just standing there with a drink in hand. I want a barstool or a table, dagnabit!

When I had initially read Caroline's post about Bigfoot, I knew that I wanted to try all the specialty drinks. I hadn't been planning on trying them all at the same time, but it ended up happening somehow (perhaps because my friends are enablers instead of being responsible adults?), in the order in which they appear on the cocktail menu:

Toasted Marshmallow:
Vanilla vodka, butterscotch liqueur, Frangelico, and Bailey’s, topped with a flaming marshmallow

Girl Scout Cookie:
A chocolatey Thin Mint martini (it's GREEN like Kermit!)

Dudley Do-Right:
Canadian Club whisky, amaretto, cranberry juice, and lime juice

Sasquatch:
Wild Turkey 101, ginger brandy, ginger ale, and a dash of bitters

My favorite was the Dudley Do-Right, served in a ginormous glass. It's not too sweet but still really easy to drink. I was pleasantly surprised, since I am not a huge fan of whisky. I know, it's an acquired taste- I have not yet acquired it, that's all. Maybe Dudley Do-Right is my gateway into whisky appreciation??

There was a man there taking photos of the opening night- he took a few shots of us after asking us if it was okay. We were told that there would be an article in the L.A. Times ... but he didn't end up using a photo with us in it. : ( Our chance at stardom, gone!

There is also a giant glass vat behind the bar full of a dark liquid with lots of little things suspended in it. If you ask a bartender what the heck it is, they'll hand you a sheet of paper with all the ingredients in it- A TON. An entire sheet of letter-sized paper! Includes all kinds of weird things, including bugs and twigs and branches and brains (well ... maybe not brains).

It's supposed to be some sort of an elixir for men, colloquially called "horny goat hooch." Yes. Classy, I know.

The decor is determinedly outdoorsy and male- mounted dead animals, antlers, wood and stone. There's a large totem pole that's actually really nice but not well-situated, as it blocked our view of the rest of the bar. Or maybe hid us away from prying eyes? I haven't decided yet.

Definitely not pretentious, very casual- a great neighborhood bar to go to for a quick drink before dinner (I hear the Mediterranean place a few doors down is really good) or after a movie.

I recommend:

Toasted Marshmallow, just for the novelty of it. The marshmallow's delectable, the drink is so-so (REALLY strong and REALLY sweet).
Dudley Do-Right, because it's delicious.

I do not recommend:

Girl Scout Cookie, too sweet!
Sasquatch ... just ... too ... much ... yikes.

I'm positive that I will be at this bar again sometime in the near future. So glad that I don't have to trek to Los Feliz (or even worse, San Francisco!) for the Bigfoot Lodge experience!

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Bravo Beethoven!

Went to the Hollywood Bowl last night (Bastille Day) for a lovely evening with my sister and one of my closest friends.

I have loved Beethoven ever since I was a child being raised by one classically trained pianist and one ardent Elvis lover. I have fond memories of the Hollywood Bowl from my childhood, when we used to go for one night of Tchaikovsky, when beautifully synchronized fireworks would explode during the 1812 Overture.

Having not been to the Bowl since sometime last year, it seemed like a nice little Tuesday evening activity.

I made Spam musubis (one and a half cans of Spam for three people? Why not?) and brought some sweet pickled radish, and my sister brought snacks- cherries (a Hollywood Bowl tradition for us), Milano cookies, limeade.

We got there early, giant cooler and all (we had four tickets, one of which was for the cooler!) and settled in. In front of the main gate is a gorgeous, enormous tree, which my friend and I were both fascinated by. It was huge!























We ate while people-watching. Staying during a sunset at the Bowl is a unique experience. Because the actual setting is between mountains (hills?), the actual sun is not visible while it is setting. The only true indication of sunset comes from the amount of light showing on the far mountain, which remains bright much longer than the seats do.


















We were joking that the members of the L.A. Philharmonic and the guest piano soloist looked like cruise ship waiters in their white jackets. I think perhaps white jackets are indicative that it's summer?


















There is a large (and by large I mean GIANT) cross that is only really visible at nighttime, when it's lit up. It's also traditional for me to seek out the cross and marvel that anyone would want to spend untold dollars paying that kind of electrical bill.























The concert was amazing. Selected (less famous) works from Beethoven:

- Egmont Overture
- Piano Concerto No. 2
- Symphony No. 2

The conductor, Bramwell Tovey, was really funny. Dry, self-deprecating, but also full of knowledge about the pieces to be performed. He apologized for 1776, he poked gentle fun at Beethoven's initial admiration of Napoleon that soon gave way to hostility, he teased the Brits (the soloist and he were both English!)- he was just the perfect person for making Beethoven approachable and light.

What's a piano concerto without a piano?? The soloist was a young Englishman, Paul Lewis, who looked like a younger and slightly more disheveled version of Rufus Sewell, was dramatic and theatrical (in a good way).

Overall, a great night and a judicious use of Spam.

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Social Butterfly

Somehow, I find that the more I do, the more I want to do. I'm really appreciating it right now, though, because it's making me love this city again.

Also, it's been as HOT as Hades lately and most of the activities I have pursued involve air-conditioning or very cold drinks.

Since my last post, I had the following social appointments:

- Dinner with a good friend at Kanpai (good but over-priced)
- Thursday night concert at the Santa Monica Pier (Joan Baez, anyone?)
- House party for a friend that's moving to New York (I bought tacos from Sky's for the vegetarians- worst website ever)
- Shopping at the Beverly Center
- Picked up my paternal grandmother and one of my cousins from LAX
- Went shopping with said cousin at the Cerritos Mall

Let's start with Kanpai. Delicious good, great company, excellent photos of Paris (so jealous!), decent glass of wine. YUM.

Honestly, I had never heard of Joan Baez. She was good, though. There were THOUSANDS of people on the pier and the beach. I mean ... wow. The weather was lovely, the sunset was picturesque, and I had a margarita at Rusty's afterward. All good.

The house party was great. I haven't seen all my Rhythm and Hues friends in a long time, so it was great to see them (drunk). I miss them.

My paternal grandmother has six children. My father is the oldest. His siblings were born in proper order- boy, girl, boy, girl, boy, girl.

Girl #1, Girl #2, and Boy #3 live on the east coast (Maryland, Maryland, Pennsylvania, respectively), and my grandmother's been over there for a month or so, bouncing between houses.

She came out here to see my family, the lone west coasters. The cousin that came with her is the only child of Boy #3 (and the spitting image of his father). I've been busy with the entertaining of visiting family members, which should get better since the cousin is now at his friend's house in Moreno Valley and the grandmother has her daughter-in-law (my long-suffering mother) to keep her company.

Back to Philly they go on Friday morning, so it's not even a long visit. And then my grandmother goes back in Korea in a month, where she lives with the only sibling still living there, Boy #2.

I promised Boy #3's wife, one of my favorite aunts, that I would go visit "soon." I refuse to go to the east coast during the humid months. Perhaps in October? I can go visit my friend that's moving to New York then, as well... hmm...

Going to the Hollywood Bowl tonight for some Mozart and a LOT of people crammed into one small space (okay, it's not small. But it FEELS small when there are a bajillion people stuffed in there!).

Tomorrow night, a friend's spinning in West Hollywood (you know, where the city flag is a rainbow?) at Palihouse. Hopefully it's fun.

My sister is off to San Diego on Thursday to prepare for Comic Con (not by choice, she works at a videogame company!) so I'm staying at her house and rabbit-sitting for Gouda, the most finicky bunny I've ever met. He's also adorable, so it's okay. What is not adorable? My sister sending me tons of e-mails with very long documents attached about the condition of rabbit poops and the likes and dislikes of bunnies. Oy.

I believe I'm going to trivia at Cock 'n Bull in Santa Monica on Thursday night (AFTER taking care of le rabbit, of course) and then some as-yet-undetermined bar on Friday night.

Good thing I'm sleeping with my eyes open at work right now. I need the rest.

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Good On You, Phil Jackson

So, if you live under a rock and recently emerged or you don't work with a gaggle of boys, the Lakers won the NBA Championships last night against the Orlando Magic.

First of all, a team called the "Magic" will never be able to deliver. That's like naming a puppy "Killer" and wondering why it doesn't protect you from anything, it rolls over when a burglar comes in, and it wags its tail at the mailman.

So there's that.

And then there's the rapist (a.k.a. Kobe Bryant), who I won't even link to, the MVP this year.

Between the predictability (I thought the Lakers would win it easily in 4, didn't think it would even get to Game 5) and the yawning (Kobe has the ball again?), I wasn't all that sorry that I missed every game. Work beckons, after all, and I don't want to spend my precious few hours at home watching a bunch of overpaid and under-deodorized men running around in tank tops and shorts. Not my idea of leisurely relaxation time.

I realize I sound disproportionately angry, and it's mostly because I'm tired and cranky.

Hopefully, as things start to slow down, I will lose the crank and up the cheer. That whole thing about my birthday has really begun grating on my nerves. The more I think about, the more irritated I get.

I have very typically Korean anger- slow to burn, rages like a wildfire once released, and difficult to reign in at the very best of times. At the worst of times, I have fits of passive-aggressiveness that I intellectually can see as being insanely harsh, but am unable to control.

Going through a phase. I think it's the "work seven days a week" phase, and I'm trying to snap out of it already.

Although it's 10:30 at night on a Monday and I'm still at work, waiting for crap to get done. Not a good start to the week, I would say...

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ARTWALK Culver City 2009

Artwalks are an interesting concept: self-guided tours to see art throughout a city/region.

ARTWALK Culver City is, obviously, Culver City's version of the artwalk. I believe there were 44 exhibition spaces this year, mostly right near downtown Culver City. "Downtown" is a big word for the area described- it's really about a three-block-length street with shops, restaurants, and bars on either side.

This event happened on Saturday, May 31, from 12:00 to 8:00. Guess where I was between those hours?? That's right, work.

Since I wasn't able to go to the artwalk, I thought going to the after party would be the next best thing. Plus, I love any reason to go to Royal/T.

The funny part of Saturday night was that it turned into a mini-pub crawl, because places in Culver City close at strange hours. I love Culver City for having everything in one central location, because I left my car at work and walked. Here's the path we took:

1. Royal/T (closed at 10:30 p.m. We had wine and partied in a Porta-Party)
8910 Washington Boulevard

2. Ford's Filling Station (closed at 11:00 p.m. We stayed until 11:20 or so)
9531 Culver Boulevard

3. Fraiche (was closed, so we walked in ... and then walked out)
9411 Culver Boulevard

4. The Culver Hotel (we just missed last call, so off we went, talking about the Munchkins that had stayed at the Culver Hotel during the filming of "The Wizard of Oz." I heard they had some craaaazy parties!)
9400 Culver Boulevard

5. Rush Street (the ol' standby! Unfortunately, some of the boys were wearing flip-flops and didn't meet the dress code. Ugggggghhhhh.)
9546 Washington Boulevard

6. Gyenari (had a drink, had a laugh)
9540 Washington Boulevard

It was strange but fun. Next year, if I'm still in this city, I hope I get to actually see the art instead of just doing for the party after all the art's been safely put away.

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Akasha, Culver City

Akasha
9543 Culver Boulevard
Culver City, CA 90232
http://www.akasharestaurant.com/

Telephone: 310.845.1700

Bakery:
Monday - Friday: 8:00 am - 5:30 pm

Lunch:
Monday - Saturday: 11:30 am - 2:30 pm

Dinner:
Monday - Thursday: 5:30 pm - 10:00 pm
Friday - Saturday: 5:30 pm - 11:00 pm
Sunday: 5:00 pm - 9:30 pm

Brunch:
Sunday: 11:00 am - 2:00 pm

Happy Hour:
Monday - Friday: 4:00 pm - 7:00 pm




















Akasha, despite its Japanese name, is a hip little American bakery/restaurant in (where else?) downtown Culver City. I don't know if 'akasha' is a Japanese word or not, but it sure sounds like it could be!

It was named after its proprietor, Chef Akasha Richmond, an organic chef who believes in sustainable cooking. I think that's a great concept, and if it really works the way it claims to, great. But if part of the consequences of sustainable cooking are prices like Akasha's, then I'm back on the side of unsustainable cooking. (Can cooking be unsustainable??)

That is to say, what I remember most about Akasha are the prices. I expect high prices when I go to swanky places like Musso and Frank's or the Ivy. I expect decent prices when I'm in Culver City and out for lunch. I shudder to think of what the dinner prices would be.

Come to think of it, I don't actually remember the exact monetary value of my lunch. The lingering memory is of the price of dessert. I had three scoops of gelato (vanilla, chocolate, and banana date). "Scoop" is an exaggeration. It was more like "teaspoonfuls." Small food, much like high prices, are what I expect from higher-end places like, say, Chateau Marmont.

Three little teaspoonfuls of gelato were $8. Not that $8 is a lot of money, because it's not. I've paid more for a single drink in many a bar. But at Akasha, it felt like they were just pushing the prices as high as they could, without any regard for the type of customer they would most likely be getting during their lunch hours (people that work in the area).

The interior of Akasha is gorgeous, exposed beams, brick, free-form light fixtures that drift, suspended by cables from the ceiling. The wall behind the bar is not a wall at all- half of the space is dominated by ceiling-to-floor blackboards with their house specialty drinks and the different types of wine they have, the other half of the space is one huge wine rack, complete with library ladder to retrieve the uppermost bottles. Beautiful place, without a doubt.

Their plates are plain white, but interesting because they come in different shapes. Shallow and rectangular for their pizzas (not good, by the way), oval and deep for their salads, with not a single round plate in sight (other than the saucers for their coffee cups).

A group of people from work all went in celebration of two of our co-workers, who are leaving the company. Everyone got fairly standard fare, pizzas, salads, sandwiches, or burgers, and we all split regular and sweet potato fries (surprisingly good sweet potato fries). More than the food, drink, or dessert, the conversation and laughter saved the lunch.

I'm sure I'll go to Akasha again. It's too convenient for me to boycott it (a block away from work). Doesn't mean I have to be happy about it- and I'll definitely only go when I'm mentally prepared to drop a good $40 on lunch, probably $60 or more for dinner.

Another gripe- the acoustics at Akasha are horrible. I think exposed brick and beams make sound bounce around or something. I wouldn't go for drinks just because of the acoustics and how horrible they would be with a crowded group of people.

A high point- the bakery, while overpriced, is yummy. I really enjoy small desserts, because sometimes, I just don't want a cupcake the size of my head. They have tiny cupcakes, tiny cookies, tiny brownies, tiny scoops of ice cream and gelato. Not the biggest fan of their ice cream or gelato, but their baked goods are delicious. Maybe I'll stop by for a cupcake after lunch at Ford's Filling Station a couple doors down.

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Question

I have a question for the (four) people that read this blog, particularly if you are not from L.A.:

What do you want to do if/when you're in L.A.?

Why do I ask? Because I'm crazy?

Yes.

Also, I've been thinking about living in other cities/states/countries lately. I daydream about that Seoul apartment so high up bugs can't survive (it's true!) ... that perfectly sunny loft right on Sydney harbor ... that shabby-chic Notting Hill flat next door to a second-hand bookshop ... that cramped studio in Manhattan, where a single lunge would take me from front door to kitchen ...

I shook myself off, let the dreams fall away, and realized that I don't appreciate this city. Don't get me wrong, I love L.A. Really.

Most of the time.

But I take it for granted, I don't go to out-of-the-way places (Hollywood now counts as out-of-the-way, it's dirty and more crowded than other areas of L.A.), and I stick with where I'm comfortable (Marina del Rey, Koreatown, Culver City, perhaps a venture into Century City or Beverly Hills every now and again).

I no longer care enough about this city to explore it. I go to the same bars, the same restaurants, the same stores, the same malls (although how can anyone beat the Beverly Center for sheer variety? Or beat Century City for a lazy day of shopping, eating, and watching movies?), the same manicure place, the same facial place, etc. etc. etc.

So. That leads back to my question...

What do you want to do in L.A.?

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Gyenari, Culver City

Gyenari, Culver City
9540 Washington Boulevard
Culver City, CA 90232
http://www.gyenari.com/

Telephone: 310.838.3131

Monday - Thursday:
11:30 am - 11:00 pm
Friday:
11:30 am - 12:00 am
Saturday:
12:00 pm - 12:00 am
Sunday:
5:00 pm - 10:00 pm
















Yes, still sticking very close to work in good ol' Culver City. Gyenari is about a block away from work- I have to cross one street to get there. Regardless of distance, we didn't go out, the food came in. When I'm consistently eating all three meals at work, not a good sign. I eat literally about two meals at home every week (Sunday breakfast and dinner). *sigh*

Back to Gyenari. The actual restaurant is very faux-Zen, minimalist and modern, very different than most Korean barbecue places. They serve (overly) fancy cocktails rather than plunking down green bottles of soju. Rather than abiding by the Korean rules of good (more is more), Gyenari attempts to keep their plates stark and almost spare (any Korean would be shocked- SHOCKED- by the amount of plate that shows around the food).

Besides those little finicky issues, Gyenari's ... okay. The food isn't authentic, but doesn't really need to be. I was pleasantly surprised by their kimchi (김치) and unpleasantly displeased with their potstickers (만두). Their meat dishes are not very Korean and a little too sweet, but good. Their japchae (잡채) is very sweet, but the noodles are good (I hate over-cooked japchae noodles) and the vegetables they put into it are the right ratio.

The food is a combination of okay and good. People at work were raving about it, which goes to show that this sort of "fusion" is popular for a reason. An authentic Korean restaurant, while successful just a few miles away in Koreatown, would fail in Culver City. The vibe of the restaurant (hip, slinky, brushed-steel and polished concrete) contributes as much to Gyenari's popularity as its food.

I'm sure that I'll be eating at Gyenari again. It's a good place for drinks, though not budget-friendly, and is really convenient for me (always a plus).

I don't know if I feel that Gyenari is a representation of how Koreans have sold out, or if it shows how Koreans can adapt. Whichever it is, I'm glad it's enjoying some popularity and I hope that more people become curious about Korean food because of it.

By the way, "gyenari" is a type of flowering tree, called forsythia (in Korean, 개나리). It's beautiful, with a bright sunny yellow that is hard to find:



















I have never seen a forsythia outside of Korea, as they don't grow here. Forsythia, along with gingko trees, which glow golden in the autumn, are two of the plants that I love best. When I think of what I miss about Korean, they're high up on the list.

I will return to Gyenari (the restaurant) if, for nothing else, to remember fondly this plant that I love and miss.

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Warszawa, Santa Monica

Warszawa Polish Cuisine
1414 Lincoln Boulevard
Santa Monica, CA 90401
http://www.warszawarestaurant.com/

Telephone: 310.393.8831

Restaurant:
Tuesday - Saturday:
6:00 pm - 11:00 pm
Sunday:
5:00 pm - 10:00 pm

Patio:
Wednesday - Saturday:
6:00 pm - 2:00 am























Yesterday (Friday) night was a late night at work, but I escaped early, around 8:00, and ran off to go meet some of my friends at Warszawa, a Polish restaurant in Santa Monica (close to the Promenade).

I know it's a Polish place, but I have an affinity for tequila and haven't had any in a while, so I stuck with margaritas. Then one of my friends decided that I needed to try a tatanka, a drink made of Zubrowka vodka (made in Poland) and apple cider. According to that particular website, Zubrowka means "bison grass," which is not something I feel like I would want to willingly put in my mouth.

Since I didn't know any better last night, I drank the tatanka and almost died. It was ... not pleasant. Strong and bitter with an oddly sweet aftertaste, I really did not like it. There are few types of alcohol that I am vehemently opposed to (gin, for one), but Zubrowka's made the list. Gross.

Besides my run-in with the Polish vodka, it was fun. Warszawa (try typing that three times fast) is a casual, weird little place. The patio is outdoors but covered with clear plastic tarp set up in a sort of umbrella shape around a tall palm tree. There's a firepit, a huge projection screen (they were playing baseball and basketball games and then switched to "The Spirit"), several tables, and a pretty well-stocked bar.

Their bartenders were both really nice and very patient with my friend that couldn't decide on what she wanted. One of them put up with my sass when I mouthed off about the type of tequila he was putting in my margarita. Good-natured guys, those two!

I haven't actually eaten at Warszawa, but I've heard the Polish sausage is delicious. Maybe someday I'll go back and actually make it in time for dinner!

Though parking in Santa Monica is awful at best, Warszawa tries to help out with a couple little parking lots, so that was a bonus.

I believe the margaritas were $8 for a pretty large cup (they do clear plastic cups with colorful straws), so the price was right.

Between the company and the drinks, it was a good night.

Too bad I'm still at work the next day, tired from getting home too late!

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Rosen Music Studio, Koreatown

Rosen Music Studio
3488 W. 8th Street
Los Angeles, CA 90005

Telephone: 213.387.0469



















(Photo from Yelp.)

I love that this place is called Rosen Music Studio, like it's some sort of professional place to record music. Yeah, not so much.

It's a good ol' karaoke place. Not a karaoke bar, mind you, for those are a disaster. Strangers singing? I don't need to hear that. My friends singing? I need to hear that and record video of that with which to blackmail them at a later date!

Korean (and Japanese) karaoke is for small groups. American karaoke bars are literally bars with a single karaoke machine, which is not so much fun unless you like to wait for four hours to sing one song.

In Koreatown, there are a few karaoke places that do the job well. Rosen is one of them. They have 33 rooms, I think (give or take a few), and the rooms vary in size depending on how many people have come along with the ride.

After the meat-athon on Saturday night, we decided to go sing a little. Spur of the moment decisions can be bad in Koreatown, especially on a Saturday night, because every place you could possibly want to go is booked. Restaurants, bars, karaoke...

We called and hooray! A room was available. The bad economy's good for something, after all.

We were only a party of six, so we got shown into one of the smaller rooms. Smaller doesn't mean that it's not as good; I actually prefer the smaller rooms because it seems like the sound is better. (The photo above is of one of the largest rooms- note the tambourines, a Korean karaoke necessity.)

Two bottles of lemon soju, one bottle of peach soju, one bottle of melon soju, and four hours later, we emerged happy and flushed and hoarse.

There are fancier karaoke places in Koreatown (Orchid, for example), but Rosen is a solid choice for good times and good soju. (They didn't have yogurt soju on Saturday, which made me sad. Yogurt soju sounds disgusting but is really, really good!)

Price isn't too bad. We stayed between 3 and 4 hours and had four bottles of soju and the bill came out to just under $200 for 6 people (not including tip).

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Isshi Hwaro (이씨 화로), Koreatown

Isshi Hwaro (이씨 화로)
3465 W. 6th Street, Suite 130
Los Angeles, CA 90020

Telephone: 213.365.8111


Saturday was the Grilled Cheese Invitational in downtown L.A. Unfortunately, as much as I love cheese (and I do love cheese), I had to work and wasn't able to go. I was not happy about that. Is there anything better than cheese sandwiched between bread that's then fried in butter??

A few of my friends were talking about going to the Grilled Cheese-athon. Taking pity on poor, hard-working me (HA!), they asked if I wanted to get dinner in Koreatown after the Cheese-apalooza.

Of course I said yes. I hadn't been in Koreatown in a while, and Korean barbecue is always good. I think on some level, they wanted me to go to dinner because none of them are Korean. Koreans in Koreatown tend to come up to a group of people and automatically assume that someone speaks Korean. They don't really think to start in English, which makes it awkward for non-Koreans that don't know how to deal with that.

I was willing to be the token Korean to have an excuse to leave work a little early and have some yummy food. Since I was the only Korean one who was involved in planning this little dinner, I got to pick the restaurant. I picked Isshi Hwaro (also spelled Yi Sshi Hwaro), in Chapman Plaza. (Photos are yoinked from yelp.com.)
















I've been to Isshi Hwaro plenty of times, most notably (and drunkenly) for my birthday two years ago. There are non-barbecue things to eat, but if there's a vegetarian in the party, there is just no way they'll avoid the smell or sight of dead cows and pigs. Squeamish vegetarians, vegans, pescetarians should all stay far, far away.

The most popular thing, by far, is the all-you-can-eat menu. I don't look at the menu anymore, so I'm not exactly sure, but I think it's about ... $18? There are two different sets, depending on the kind of meat you order. The price may seem right until you realize that they're gouging you on the price of the beverages, alcoholic or not.

We ate tons of meat, we drank a fair bit of liquor, had a good time and intense meat facials. I tried a new brand of soju (Fresh? I think?) and had my favorite brands of Korean "wine"- 복분자 (a black raspberry wine) and 매취순 (a plum wine).


















Isshi Hwaro is always consistent and good, and I appreciate that. They don't overcrowd the place (ugh, trying to have a meal while elbows are jabbing into you from all angles? horrible!) and they take reservations, which is a big plus.

I've heard that they can be rude to non-Koreans, so having at least one person that speaks Korean is necessary. On Saturday, there were six of us, two of us were Korean and we were all Asian. So at least we had that going for us. (By the way, I think that was the first time I've ever been with only Asian people!)

Some specific complaints:

- Their kimchi jeon (김치전), or kimchi pancake, was not good. Not spicy at all, didn't taste like kimchi, and just sort of seemed like a floury disc. Meh.

- There was a 나물 dish that seemed to be comprised of parsley. Gross. (나물 (namul) is a word used to describe a variety of vegetable dishes. It's late and I'm tired and cranky, so the explanation will have to wait for another day.) Parsley is not often found in Korean food, so I didn't know what to make of that odd development. Fusion? Mistake?

- Their kimchi was not good.

Those are small obnoxious things I point out, because the overall experience was delicious, just as I expected. I just wish they would get the little things right; it would help to make the place even better!

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Nikki's, Venice

Nikki's
72 Market Street
Venice Beach, CA 90291
http://www.nikkivenice.com/

Telephone: 310.450.3010

Monday - Friday:
4:00 pm - 1:00 am
Saturday & Sunday:
10:00 am - 1:00 am
Any day with an NFL game:
10:00 am - 1:00 am

Happy Hour:
4:00 pm - 7:00 pm
2 for 1 drinks
1/2 price appetizers














Went to Nikki's on Friday night to meet some people I used to work with. I hadn't seen them in a while, what with everybody working crazy hours. Now that some of them are done with their show, we decided to meet up for a sort of congratulatory night of drinks.

Nikki's is a bit pretentious, as many of the newer bars in Venice Beach are, and totally overpriced, which was completely expected. I don't mind spending a bit on drinks to see people that I like, so I wasn't really angry about the prices. The pretentiousness pisses me off, of course, but I was mentally prepared for it.

I tried a couple drinks there that were on their cocktail menu:

Cantaloupe martini: Stoli raspberry vodka, Marie Brizzard watermelon, and orange juice.

White grape martini: Ciroc vodka and white grape juice with a champagne floater.

The cantaloupe martini was a little odd- I don't think the orange juice was right for the drink. The white grape martini was good, I had two of them. Delicious, tart, a little astringent, and slightly effervescent. Yummm.

It was mostly the company that I cared about, so it was a good night. I was distracted all night by the giant print on the wall of the topless woman holding a surfboard over her head (visible in the photo above). Seriously, why?? It's not a surf-themed place, although one of those tacky moving pictures of a waterfall hangs on the wall farthest from the front door (is that ever a good idea in any establishment?).

The bar's in what a friend called "the middle of the ghetto," that part of Venice Beach that gets a little suspect/shady after dark. You walk in the single door and the whole place is visible, narrow and long, a sure sign that the building was not meant to be a bar.

We went early (I think I got there a bit before 9:00?) and left early (I left around midnight) so the place wasn't crowded. I was pleasantly surprised by that. I realized as I was leaving that the reason the bar wasn't overly crowded was because bouncers keep a ton of people waiting. Thanks, bouncers! I hate bars that are packed to the rafters.

The valet was adorable and French, but that didn't help in making the $7 valet fee any easier to stomach. I'm not clear on how much the drinks were, but I think the martinis were about $13, maybe?

Not a place I would go again unless it was for a gathering that someone else planned. Seeing friends (and a few people I wouldn't count as friends) was great. I miss being social.

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