Grubtrotters

I’m not positive this isn’t an April Fool’s Day joke, but it falls into the category of too weird not to share. The Patina Spotlight Café will be serving a lunch of spam tacos and mead tomorrow, Wednesday, April 1 at the “SPAMapalooza” event in downtown L.A. at Music Center Plaza.  The Center Theatre Group is hosting the canned, salty meat event from 11:30 a.m. – 2:30 p.m. in honor of the first day of ticket sales for the musical Spamalot. There will also be killer rabbit throwing, cow tossing and can o’ Spam scavenger hunt. You can get two tacos for $3, or three tacos for $5. Confession: I loved SPAM sandwiches as a kid. My best friend who was half Filipino used to make them for me all the time. Hey, if it’s good enough for Obama, why not?

Patina Spotlight Café, 125 N. Grand Ave. Click here for more details.

Love it or hate it, communal dining is the latest “big thing” to hit L.A. I have a piece on Dinela.com discussing this trend of tables where strangers sit side-by-side, striking up conversations and occasionally sharing a slice of pizza. Personally, I love the serendipity of it all. I also love the fact that I don’t need a reservation. I can walk into Gjelina or AK or Bar Centro at the SLS Hotel on a whim and find a seat.

Los Angeles has a pretty entrenched reputation for isolation. Everyone gets into their hermetically sealed cars and drives to a specific destination. Only in neighborhoods such as Venice and Los Feliz do pedestrians actually walk around and run into one another. Not surprisingly, those are the neighborhoods where communal tables work best. Yet, I think we all crave community and connection, even if we’re a little afraid at first. And fear is a huge impediment. Here’s Evan Kleiman, host of KCRW’s “Good Food,” on the response to her experiment with family style dinners at Angeli Caffe:

“Some people would walk in and then immediately turn and start to walk out — I’m not sitting by somebody I don’t know. We’d have to sort of cajole them to sit down. And then they’d sit but leave spaces between them.”

However, some of us like a little danger. If you open yourself up to the unexpected, you never know what might happen. Joan McNamara, chef/owner of Joan’s on Third, calls her communal table “magical.” Strangers have met there, fallen in love and gotten engaged.

“I don’t think people want to feel isolated, especially in this economy,” says McNamara, who had an elderly friend once tell her the Great Depression wasn’t so terrible “‘because we were all in it together.’ Maybe that’s what people are finding now. If you were sitting at two separate tables, you would almost never hand food to someone else.”

Much has been written about the so-called Millennial Generation that helped sweep President Obama into office. They’re less into dating and more into hanging out with groups. They like cooperation, which might explain this new trend. Not to stereotype my own people, but Gen Xers may be just a tad more cynical. Here’s my friend Julia:

“I loathe communal tables. I also hate small plates. I like old fashioned dinners where you eat your own food with people you already know.”

As Victor often says, it’s a large and free nation. Each to her own. But in my book, interaction is good, and the unknown is worth exploring, even if you have to suffer through a few awkward moments. What do you think? An introvert’s worst nightmare or a whimsical delight? — Jenny

Good news for Tender Greens eaters. The new West Hollywood location, originally planned for last September, finally opens tomorrow, March 18, at 11:30 a.m. In addition to the fresh-to-order salads, sandwiches and other favorites from the Culver City location, Chef Fermin Arias will make homemade cheese, vinegars and salumi for the WeHo crowd. As we reported last May, WeHo is just one of many spots in the expansion plan for this casual, eco-friendly, lunch-focused eatery. I’m hoping this means the Culver City joint will be less crowded. Even if it’s not, I’m still inspired to brave the crowds, especially now that I know that its chef/owner Erik Oberholzter eats there everyday and manages to maintain a bod like this.  — Jenny

Tender Greens West Hollywood, 8759 Santa Monica Blvd., 310-385-1919.

Potato pizza? Sounds like a far-fetched idea in carb-phobic Santa Monica. I, too, was skeptical, but let me tell you, this creamy pizza with fontina cheese and rosemary is a decadent delight. It’s one of the highlights at chef Jason Travi’s new coastal Italian restaurant, Riva. (Travi also runs Fraiche in Culver City.)

We started our meal with the crudo, thin slices of raw fish similar to sashimi. A dorade with sea salt and olive oil melted in my mouth, followed by fluke with mint and blood orange. Very nice. Next we tried the tradizionale pizza with San Daniele proscuitto, tomato arugula, red onion and pecorino romano. I’m a huge proscuitto fan so I was shocked to discover that I enjoyed the potato pizza more. The proscuitto was sliced a bit thick for my taste, and there was something so rich and wonderful about the potato pizza. Pure comfort food.

Our group of four also shared three entrees, including the pork chop (pictured below), which was moist and tender.  Mine at home never are. I wish I knew the secret. (Writing that, I realize I sound like that cheesy Folgers commercial from the 70s. “Jim never has a second cup at home.”)

The shellfish diavolo (pictured below) was a messy mixture of lobster, mussels, clams and squid in a hot tomato sauce. The dish also contained fregola sarda, which was a new one for me. It’s a toasted breadcrumb-like pasta that’s apparently better for your blood sugar levels than most starches. Not sure if it made up for the potato pizza, but nevertheless. The dish was just OK. Not as much kick as I had expected.

My favorite entree, by far, was the lamb spezzatino (pictured below), a rich, comforting dish with a wonderful smoky flavor from the mozzarella. Definitely a winner, and it worked well with the 2004 Barbaresco.

Desserts were a mixed bag. I wasn’t a huge fan of the strawberry semifredo (pictured), but the ricotta fritters were amazing. They were like tiny, warm doughnut holes. Quite addictive.

Overall, Riva has a nice, upscale vibe, far less touristy than most of the other places near the Third Street Promenade.  It’s got a bar and a pizza bar, and the place was buzzing all night. With Mozza, Gjelina and Riva, I think LA’s reputation for having crappy pizza is finally an anachronism. — Jenny

312 Wilshire Blvd, Santa Monica, (310) 451-7482

Vic and I finally checked out the newest hot spot on Abbot Kinney in Venice, Gjelina, which opened over the summer. We walked in without a reservation at 7 p.m. on a recent weeknight and had no trouble snagging a seat the the communal table. (If we had arrived an hour later, we would have been among the masses hovering behind us… waiting.) I enjoyed the rustic communal table because we actually got a chance to meet and mingle with some of our neighbors. In fact, the couple sitting next to us offered us a slice of their gruyere, arugula and carmelized onion pizza, which was delicious. Not Mozza delicious, mind you, but tasty nonetheless. “Very French onion soupy,” as Vic put it.

In fact, everything we tried at Gjelina was satisfying, and I loved the experience of the place almost as much as the food. It was full of artists, casual chic Venice hipsters, even a couple families with kids. One of the guys down at the other end of the communal table compared it to AOC. It reminded me of being in New York. A real neighborhood spot. The design of the place is gorgeous. The floor is made of brick, while the ceiling is reclaimed wood from a barn. The walls are painted and decorated with a delicate, laser-etched design. There’s a beautiful back patio with a fire pit and a window onto the kitchen. Next to that is a tiny nook of a lounge with a lamp made from wine bottles. Even the bathroom fixtures are cool. Guys behind the bar chop vegetables plucked fresh that day from the farmer’s market and make salads beneath an unusual lamp featuring an variety of odd-sized lightbulbs. The restaurant is mainly lit by candles in the evening, giving it a nice glow.

We started with a bottle of organic French Syrah, a Chateau Messiac Minervois from 2006. At $42, it was actually the least expensive bottle on the list. The only bottle they offered for less ($38) was sold out. In this economy, they really should have a few more affordable bottles (and glasses) for those who have seen their 401Ks cut in half. The restaurant is still doing such a brisk business, they probably don’t feel the need to cut anyone a break. (Note to Gjelina, it’s tough to stay the hot spot forever. We’re in an economic crisis, dammit. Wake up, and help us out a little, here.)

For dinner we ordered the grilled raddichio, bacon, fontina and tomato confit pizza from the wood-burning oven. A guy sitting at the far end of our communal table described it as “a saltine of a pizza,” and I must admit, it did have an impossibly thin crust. I could practically see through it, and I suspect that even the strictest low-carb dieter could eat this pizza. It was served with a side plate containing small piles of crushed red pepper, grated Parmesan cheese and dried oregano. The flavor was wonderfully smoky, both from the bacon and the wood-burning oven. (Beware: The couple sitting next to us mistook a woodchip from the embers that made its way onto their plate for a French fry and bit into it.)

Vic and I also shared the Sonoma duck leg confit with cavalo nero, lentils and currant vinegar. The duck was sweet and juicy and the lentils quite vinegary. It was an unusual combination, but it worked. When we finished, Vic was still hungry so he tried to flag down the waitress to order more. By then, the place was so packed that it took at least 10 minutes to find her. We capped off the evening with Jidori chicken livers and onions on grilled bread. It’s not the traditional way to end a meal, but Vic is carniverous and needed a little more meat on his bones. He actually grew up eating liver and onions, and while I find chicken liver a little mealy, he gave the dish — and the entire evening — a big thumbs up.

******

We made our way back for a second Gjelina visit last week, when my parents were in town. This time, our group of six arrived even earlier and took over most of the communal table. My sister looked at the menu and complained that there wasn’t a single item except the pizza that contained a word she didn’t know. Pretentious, was her thought. Personally, I don’t mind an interesting menu because I like to ask questions and learn something new. But she does have a point. There’s also no sign outside the restaurant, which always seems pretentious to me.

Starting with the charcuterie plate (pictured above), we enjoyed duck prosciutto, sweet soppresatta and bresaola that were all so thinly sliced, they melted on your tongue. Split between six people, the portions could have been more substantial, although we ordered so much it didn’t matter. We followed that with a divine salad of arugula with marinated tomato, bacon and ricotta salata. All I can say is, yum. This is not your typical skinny gal salad. Next we tried three more pizzas: a margherita with gioia mozzarella and burrata, another with mushroom, goat cheese and truffle oil, and finally one with lamb sausage, zucchini, tomato, asiago and pecorino. Mom’s clear favorite was the mushroom (pictured below), although I thought the smell of truffle oil was so overwhelming that the taste was almost a letdown compared to the scent. The lamb sausage was my top pick, and Vic chose the margherita. So you pretty much can’t go wrong with the pizzas.

On to the vegetable section of the menu, the braised collard greens with smoked tomato were too salty for Mom, although just right for someone with a salt tooth like myself. In fact, on the second visit to Gjelina, I realized one of the reasons I liked the place so much is that almost every dish is finished with a liberal dash of sea salt. The grilled raddichio with balsamic and sea salt was a smoky, salty winner all around. Even our decadent butterscotch pots de creme for dessert had sea salt on top to cut what otherwise would have been a cloying degree of sweetness. For those who are salt sensitive, prepare for swollen ankles.

My sister’s favorite dish of the night was the roasted beets with greens, walnut oil and goat cheese — pungent and vinegary. My father and my sister’s boyfriend voted for the PEI mussels (tiny, but nice and plump) with chorizo, tomato, white wine and grilled bread. The dish had a garlicky bite, and again, the flavor combinations were a little odd, but that wasn’t a bad thing. I also enjoyed the wood roasted brandade — one of those pesky words that needed an explanation. It was basically a salt cod dip with cream and potato whose flavor the waiter described as similar to clam chowder. This comfort food dish was a bit heavy for some on Thanksgiving week, but I enjoy anything that’s the food equivalent of a soft blanket. We washed it all down with a 2005 Red Rhone and capped off the evening with a cranberry apple tartin that had firm chunks of fresh fruit. Not too cooked and not too sweet.

I’d be remiss not to mention that my mother thought our server was extremely appealing.  “Did you get a look at our waiter?” she asked halfway through the evening. “Soooo cute!”

“I didn’t think he was so cute,” my Dad huffed. Nevertheless, we all walked out feeling fat and happy. – Jenny

Gjelina, 1429 Abbot Kinney Blvd., 310-450-1429

If you name a place Delizia Cafe, the food had better deliver. Unfortunately, what they call food at Delizia is anything but delicious.

Victor and I had been stuck inside our Venice Beach pad most of Sunday and wanted to get outside for a nice walk and to grab a quick bite. I have bladed past Delizia many times since it opened last year and have always wanted to try it. Something about its modern outdoor decor, bright orange sign and simple Italian menu made it looked enticing. But clearly the boardwalk location is the only thing keeping this place hopping.

Delizia has sunset specials every night that include beer, drinks like sangria and what they call “tapas.” Perhaps the use of the Spanish word “tapas” instead of the Italian “cicchetti”  for small plates — not to mention the Spanish Sangria — should have tipped us off that this would be nothing like the Italian food we spent our honeymoon grazing on every day. The only authentically European thing about Delizia was the vast number of smokers. (Their palates must be burned out.)

We ordered the pizzette, cannellini crostini and four pieces of dark meat roasted chicken with greens and garlic. The four tiny squares of pizzette on thick bread ($5) barely resembled any pizza I had ever seen. It looked and tasted like it had been sitting around all day. The cheese was burnt. The toppings were dried out. One of the pieces tasted like cardboard. We complained to the waitress, and she said, “I’m sorry, should I bring some olive oil and vinegar to spice it up?” OK, but no amount of oil and vinegar was going to make this pizza edible. The Amy’s Organic and Trader Joe’s frozen pizzas at home are far superior, and that’s kind of scary.

The crostini topped with a mixture of white beans, onions and parsley ($5) was bland but edible. It also tasted like it had been mixed hours before and refrigerated. Clearly they don’t make the tapas fresh at Delizia. I splashed some vinegar on that just to kick it up a notch, too.

Next she brought out chicken, along with a supposedly “clean” plate that had bits of food still stuck to the surface. Vic’s plate was also dirty. At this point, I was a little afraid to eat the chicken. It was slightly pink in the middle, and I had visions of salmonella running through my brain. Victor was equally unimpressed by our meal.

Despite our trepidation, we asked for fresh plates and did eat the chicken ($10). It was moist and mildly spiced, accompanied by broccoli and greens that were drowning in lemon juice and chunks of garlic. It’s been an hour, and I haven’t gotten sick so far, but that’s probably the ony compliment I can generate. The roasted chicken at Ralph’s is much better.

If you’re on the Venice boardwalk and need to eat, head to Figtree’s Cafe or grab a sausage at Jody Maroni’s. I’m sad to say Delizia was the worst $23 we have spent on a meal in months. –Jenny.

Delizia Cafe and Catering, 301 Oceanfront Walk, Venice Beach

–Photo courtesy of YoVenice.com

My favorite late summer picnic grub is:

A.

B.

C.

Not that we’re cracking any kind of huge mystery here, but you know one of the reasons Communism flopped was because nobody had any choices. That’s why we love the spirit of the DeTox-ReTox promotion at the Avalon Hotel in Beverly Hills. Every Sunday this summer from 2 p.m. to 6 p.m., its blue on blue poolside lounge will offer selections to either keep the Saturday night party raging or ease your pain. (Our favorite hangover description is from “The Mary Tyler Moore Show,” courtesy of Lou Grant: Did you ever feel so sick you’d have to rally to die?) The options:

DeTox Drinks

Mixed berry smoothie with bee pollen ($8).

Sparkling pomegranate lemonade ($6).

Pitcher of cucumber/lemon water ($3).

ReTox Drinks

Build your own Bloody Marys ($14).

Mimosas & mixers ($14).

DeTox Menu ($8 each)

BBQ brisket sliders

Thai chicken with cucumber cream

Fingerling-ricotta baked tater

Crab and corn hushpuppies

Spicy beef rice wraps

ReTox Menu ($8 each)

Tuna sashimi & pina-soy colada

Scallop ceviche

Salmon BLT flatbread

Duck and apricot strudel

Chicken and vegetable pot pie

No doubt that sometimes a greasy burger is the perfect hangover cure, but trust us when we tell you that those spicy beef wraps (above, right) can provide just as much comfort with 38 times the taste. And if you can eat them in a swanky, modern spot in the sun, so much the better.–Victor.

Avalon Beverly Hills, 9400 W. Olympic Blvd., Beverly Hills 90212

It was girls night out at the new Father’s Office at the Helms Bakery Building in Culver City earlier this week. The second incarnation of this insanely trendy Santa Monica-born gastropub opened a month ago to massive hype and lines worthy of holidays at Disneyland. We figured some of the initial frenzy had probably died down by now, and, fortunately, we were right. My friends Janine and Kerith showed up at 6 p.m., and even though the place was buzzing, we had no trouble getting a table. What a refreshing change from the inaugural experience Victor and I had at the phone-booth-sized Father’s Office in Santa Monica. There we had to shovel in our burgers and beer standing up on one foot while using the other to kick away competitors. The Culver City space is much larger, with indoor and sidewalk seating, although the same rules apply. You order everything at the bar and take a plastic number back to your table to wait for delivery. No substitutions. No whining.

No reason to whine, really. The food is hearty and hand-licking delicious. All three of us ordered the burger. Of course. You have to get the burger. It’s legendary in size, spilling out of the bun, juicier than any Juicy Couture sweats and decadently dressed with sweet carmelized onions, bacon, Gruyere and Maytag blue cheese and arugula. My favorite part? No ketchup anywhere. I abhor ketchup. Always have. I had no trouble devouring the entire burger. And when Kerith filled up and sent the second half of hers away, I flagged down the server and snatched it back. I knew Victor would be pleased. He and I split the leftovers later.

FO’s side dishes get less attention, but man, oh man, were those Spanish mushrooms garlicky and good. Even the white anchovies were reminiscent of the ones we ate regularly on our honeymoon in Italy last September. After examining the impressive wall of beer, I washed all the pub grub down with a spicy, hoppy and fruity beer called the Russian River Brewing Damnation. Damn, was I happy. Sometimes you should believe the hype.

Father’s Office, 3229 Helms Ave., Los Angeles, 310-815-9820

I tasted steaks at both extremes of the tenderness scale at Boa Steakhouse in Santa Monica tonight. I started with the 2-oz. premium Japanese Wagyu appetizer. It’s a cashmere sweater of a steak — soft, smooth, expensive and wonderful. For the main course, I ordered the certified organic, grass-fed New York strip, the yogi of steaks, if most yogis were not, uh, vegetarians. (I’m a carnivorous yogi myself. The guilty but happy kind.) Decidedly leaner and firmer, the steak was still full of juicy flavor, seasoned perfectly, and you get to feel good knowing it’s better for your health and the earth.

Rounding out the meal were asparagus and fresh yellow and red beets bought this morning at the Santa Monica’s Farmer’s Market. This was my fourth trip to Boa, and I can never skip my favorite dish on the menu, the goat cheese baklava with pistachios, black truffles and frisee. It’s just so rich and divine.

I enjoyed my grub with a nice glass of Spanish Tempranillo, a 2005 Dominio De Eguren Protocolo. On Sundays, all bottles and half bottles are half price. While super-chic Boa is one of LA’s hipper steakhouses, it’s situated right across the street from the beach, and you might just find a few grains of sand on your leather seat.

Boa Steakhouse, 101 Santa Monica Blvd., Santa Monica; 310-899-4466.