Just beyond the big Thaitown strip on Hollywood Boulevard lies Rodded Restaurant. Hard as it must be to have a restaurant name that sounds like an "enhanced interrogation technique," Rodded has been hanging on for quite a while with good, soulful Thai cooking.
The various pork and chicken balls are popular appetizers and I found them quite tasty (what's not to like about fried meatballs). My favorite appetizer, though, was the leek cake, a bun filled with leeks and greens which comes fried or steamed.
One of my favorite dishes was ham hock over rice. The hock is braised with a rich soy marinade that drips nicely into the rice underneath. The pork had great flavor and the sauce-drenched rice was irresistible.
I was less enamoured of the stewed duck over rice. While it was nicely flavored, the duck was tough and chewy and the fat was rubbery.
If there is a signature dish at Rodded, it is the duck noodle soup. You can choose from a variety of noodles to be added to the soup which is topped with thinly sliced pieces of duck, but it's really about the broth. Rodded's duck broth is a rich, dark brew, full of duck jus and nicely spiced. Slurp it up!
Rodded Restaurant
5623 Hollywood Blvd. (just east of Wilton)
Los Angeles, CA 90028
(323) 962-8382
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Foie Gras of the Sea: Fresh Uni at the Hollywood Farmers Market
At the very south end of the Sunday Hollywood Farmers Market is a stand selling whole fish, crab, lobsters and live sea urchins. The urchins are submerged in buckets of water. Given that I love uni, I had looked longingly at this Santa Barbara based stand for a while, but never worked up the nerve to order something, not knowing exactly what I'd do with a whole sea urchin. On a recent trip though, the guys behind the counter told me that for $7 I could get an urchin, and they would crack the thing open right there for me so that I could eat the precious uni. I paid, and they cracked. The urchin they handed me was still alive, its spines moving creepily as I held it with a paper towel. They didn't offer any plasticware (a spoon would have been handy) so I just stood there, scooping uni out with my hand and feeding my face, all the while drawing a crowd of curious onlookers.
The uni in my urchin was pretty sparse (it's a bit of a crapshoot because every urchin is different), but what was there was phenomenal; it was rich and buttery...the foie gras of the ocean. Tasting uni right out of the urchin definitely will make it harder for me to enjoy anything but the very freshest the next time I'm at a sushi bar. If you're looking for a fun experience and some great uni, give it a go.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Whiskey Wednesday: Why I (Now) Rate Whiskeys
Last week, I wrote extensively about why I've never given scores to whiskeys on the blog, but recently I have started to rate whiskeys for the LA Whisk(e)y Society. Why?
The LA Whisk(e)y Society is a small, private tasting group that has a fabulous website with all sorts of information about the local whiskey scene. It's far and away the most complete source of information about whiskey at LA bars, liquor stores and restaurants. Members of the club also rate whiskeys that they taste both in Society tastings (which are usually blind tastings) and on their own.
When I first joined, I balked at scoring, but after reviewing the scores, I found them to be quite helpful, particularly because each member rates individually and you can get a real sense of where there is consensus on a whiskey and where there is not. I also like the scoring system the Society uses, which is very practical, indicating whether you would recommend tasting it, recommend buying a bottle or simply not bother with it. The notes and scores are also pretty casual, so I don't feel the same consistency pressure that I would on the blog. It's just people's impressions of the whiskeys, nothing more. And there is one thing I never counted on; it's fun and challenging to try and convey your opinion in a single grade.
As a result, if you want to see how I would rate a whiskey, you can always flip over to the Society site and see. Anytime I review a whiskey on the blog, I will try to add a review and score on the Society site. I'm also putting up some scores from my collection which will include many whiskey which were previously reviewed here. The Society site is very high-tech and fully interactive. You can search by type of whiskey, by country of origin, by reviewer, or simply enter a search time.
Hey, if it works out, maybe I will eventually rate whiskeys here, you never know, just don't count on seeing a 100 point system.
The LA Whisk(e)y Society is a small, private tasting group that has a fabulous website with all sorts of information about the local whiskey scene. It's far and away the most complete source of information about whiskey at LA bars, liquor stores and restaurants. Members of the club also rate whiskeys that they taste both in Society tastings (which are usually blind tastings) and on their own.
When I first joined, I balked at scoring, but after reviewing the scores, I found them to be quite helpful, particularly because each member rates individually and you can get a real sense of where there is consensus on a whiskey and where there is not. I also like the scoring system the Society uses, which is very practical, indicating whether you would recommend tasting it, recommend buying a bottle or simply not bother with it. The notes and scores are also pretty casual, so I don't feel the same consistency pressure that I would on the blog. It's just people's impressions of the whiskeys, nothing more. And there is one thing I never counted on; it's fun and challenging to try and convey your opinion in a single grade.
As a result, if you want to see how I would rate a whiskey, you can always flip over to the Society site and see. Anytime I review a whiskey on the blog, I will try to add a review and score on the Society site. I'm also putting up some scores from my collection which will include many whiskey which were previously reviewed here. The Society site is very high-tech and fully interactive. You can search by type of whiskey, by country of origin, by reviewer, or simply enter a search time.
Hey, if it works out, maybe I will eventually rate whiskeys here, you never know, just don't count on seeing a 100 point system.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Endless Salad: Itzik Hagadol
Itzik Hagadol is an Israeli restaurant with a branch in Tel Aviv and a branch in Encino. For convenience sake, I chose to try the Encino branch.
The centerpiece of any meal at Itzik Hagadol is the salad course, which includes more than 20 salads, plus falafel. The salads are $18 per person if that's all you are getting, but only $9 per person if you also get an entree, but trust me, you don't need an entree, just a glass of a Golan Heights red wine to wash it down.
The salad course is an all you can eat mezza tour de force which also comes with hot out of the oven sesame flat bread. There are the traditional dips hummous and baba ganouch, but the salads go way beyond that. There are two plates of roasted peppers: a plate of mild, sweet red bell peppers and a delightfully spicy plate of pickled jalapeños. There are at least a half dozen preparations of eggplant, the best of which contrast the umami of eggplant with various sweet and salty elements. There is the surprisingly wonderful vegetarian chopped liver, a meaty amalgam of who knows what, and very nice rendition of real chopped liver. There are beets, cabbage slaw, egg salad, sweet stewed carrots and numerous chopped salads. Inexplicably, there is tomato salsa and guacamole. The faster you eat, the faster the little boats full of salad arrive, both refills and new dishes. After only a few minutes, I completely lost count and couldn't even begin to recall every dish. It is a huge amount of food and a huge amount of fun.
The entrees are largely grilled skewers. We got veal sweetbreads, the house kebab which is a kefta like sausage, and a mixed meat kabob. The kabobs were fine, but nothing exceptional. I was excited by the prospect of sweetbread kabobs (other interesting choices include foie gras and turkey testicles), but the grilling did not sufficiently crisp the sweetbread exterior so it had a uniform pillowy consistency which, while not offensive, didn't capture the rich texture of sweetbreads. It also lacked much seasoning. The kefta and beef were good but not out of the ordinary for Middle Eastern kabobs.
Going to Itzik Hagadol is great fun and gives you a sense of the Israeli appreciation of food. I would recommend bringing a large group and skipping the entrees. The salads are what it's all about.
Itzik Hagadol Grill
17201 Ventura Blvd
Encino, CA 91316
(818) 784-4080
The centerpiece of any meal at Itzik Hagadol is the salad course, which includes more than 20 salads, plus falafel. The salads are $18 per person if that's all you are getting, but only $9 per person if you also get an entree, but trust me, you don't need an entree, just a glass of a Golan Heights red wine to wash it down.
The salad course is an all you can eat mezza tour de force which also comes with hot out of the oven sesame flat bread. There are the traditional dips hummous and baba ganouch, but the salads go way beyond that. There are two plates of roasted peppers: a plate of mild, sweet red bell peppers and a delightfully spicy plate of pickled jalapeños. There are at least a half dozen preparations of eggplant, the best of which contrast the umami of eggplant with various sweet and salty elements. There is the surprisingly wonderful vegetarian chopped liver, a meaty amalgam of who knows what, and very nice rendition of real chopped liver. There are beets, cabbage slaw, egg salad, sweet stewed carrots and numerous chopped salads. Inexplicably, there is tomato salsa and guacamole. The faster you eat, the faster the little boats full of salad arrive, both refills and new dishes. After only a few minutes, I completely lost count and couldn't even begin to recall every dish. It is a huge amount of food and a huge amount of fun.
The entrees are largely grilled skewers. We got veal sweetbreads, the house kebab which is a kefta like sausage, and a mixed meat kabob. The kabobs were fine, but nothing exceptional. I was excited by the prospect of sweetbread kabobs (other interesting choices include foie gras and turkey testicles), but the grilling did not sufficiently crisp the sweetbread exterior so it had a uniform pillowy consistency which, while not offensive, didn't capture the rich texture of sweetbreads. It also lacked much seasoning. The kefta and beef were good but not out of the ordinary for Middle Eastern kabobs.
Going to Itzik Hagadol is great fun and gives you a sense of the Israeli appreciation of food. I would recommend bringing a large group and skipping the entrees. The salads are what it's all about.
Itzik Hagadol Grill
17201 Ventura Blvd
Encino, CA 91316
(818) 784-4080
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Gelato Bar Los Feliz - Now Open
Last year, when I embarked on the LA Gelato Tour, Gail Silverton's Gelato Bar in Studio City was one of my favorite spots. Now, they have opened a second location on Hillhurst, in the space of the old Hollywood Gelato (which didn't come out so well in the Tour).
The gelato at the new location is just as good as the original's (though the servings seem smaller). Unfortunately, the Los Feliz branch has no espresso machine, which means no affogato. This is a serious oversight, since Gelato Bar makes one of the best affogatos around. Hopefully, it will soon be corrected.
They also carry Cake Monkey and other pastries.
Gelato Bar
1936 Hillhurst Ave.
Los Angeles, CA 90027
(323) 668-0606
The gelato at the new location is just as good as the original's (though the servings seem smaller). Unfortunately, the Los Feliz branch has no espresso machine, which means no affogato. This is a serious oversight, since Gelato Bar makes one of the best affogatos around. Hopefully, it will soon be corrected.
They also carry Cake Monkey and other pastries.
Gelato Bar
1936 Hillhurst Ave.
Los Angeles, CA 90027
(323) 668-0606
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Whiskey Wednesday: Why I Don't Rate Whiskeys
I have often been asked why I don't rate whiskeys. After all, nearly every whiskey blogger, journalist, author or vlogger rates whiskeys. There are 100 point scales, ten point scales, star systems, letter grades, you name it. I understand why people like ratings. They are simple and straightforward, but they've never really appealed to me and here is why.
1. Ratings Are Linear While Taste is Multi-Faceted
Ratings are linear by nature. Everything is compared to everything else on one single, linear scale. This is, of course, what makes them useful to consumers. I know that a whiskey rated 96 is superior to an 88, end of story. But the single rating system fails to take into account the experiential nature of whiskey and the multitude of possible responses. For instance, I recently reviewed Buffalo Trace White Dog. I would probably never reach for this whiskey to sip in my leisure time, but I think it provides an invaluable window into the Bourbon ageing process and is a must-try for any Bourbon lover. If I merely rated it on my view of its pure quality as a spirit, it would receive a lesser grade, but that lesser grade would not reflect the important, academic interest in experiencing it, the intellectual joy that comes from the experience. Some things taste amazing, but some whiskeys are worth trying because of their unique flavor profiles, experimentation or other elements. Unfortunately, there is no room for such subtlety in the world of linear ratings.
2. Taste is Subjective
Of course taste is generally subjective, and each person has different likes and dislikes, but I don't see that as a flaw, and that is not the phenomenon I am referring to here. What I'm talking about is that each of our individual tastes is subjective and can change depending on any number of environmental factors. You can taste everything blind at the same time of day in the same temperature controlled room, but even then, there are factors that are hard to control. The other day I was at a tasting of seven single malts. Five or six of them were big on sherry and one was peated. The peated one stood out from the crowd and I likely had an inflated sense of it because of that. However, if I had tasted the peated whiskey along with some of my favorite highly-peated whiskeys, I probably would have had a lesser sense of it. You could try to control for this by tasting only one whiskey per seating, but not running comparisons has its own issues as you are tasting the whiskey out of context and don't have the helpful benchmark of other whiskeys to compare it to. Some tasters taste in a variety of settings, which is probably the best practice in this case (and I always taste a whiskey at least twice before writing it up just to confirm my notes), but the subjectivity of each person's individual tastes makes ratings extremely subjective.
3. Consistency is Hard
It's fairly easy to taste a group of single malts in one sitting and create a scale or rate them from best to worst. It's harder to do that over several sittings. Was the second best whiskey we had today better than the best we had last week? It gets even murkier if you are tasting hundreds of whiskeys per year. Was the Linkwood you rated a 92 seven years ago really two full points better than the Wild Turkey you rated a 90 last week? I'm fairly skeptical of anyone who makes that type of claim without doing side by side tastings. I pride myself on my own tasting consistency, but taste memories, like all memories, can be difficult to rely on.
4. One Hundred Points is Too Many
The 100 point spread seems scientific, but it's a pseudo-science (and yes, a scorer who uses a ten point scale but also uses one place past the decimal is using a 100 point spread). What's the margin for error when you are comparing ratings over several years? Is there really any difference between a 76 and a 77? I prefer to hear a more general description than see some number. Was it bad, good, great or one of the best? Any distinction beyond those terms is unnecessary.
5. The Apples and the Oranges
Unlike whiskey bloggers, most food bloggers don't give out ratings. Indeed, many old-media food critics don't give out ratings either, and those who do are usually rating only a limited selection of high-end, formal dining venues. One of the reasons is that it is very hard to compare things as different as a dinner at a high end French restaurant, a pastrami sandwich, a bowl of ramen and an In-n-Out double double (animal style, of course) on one rating system. I would rate a Langer's pastrami sandwich as one of the best bites of food around, but does that mean I should rate it higher than the carte blanche tasting menu at Melisse? There are very few Canadian Whiskies I like better than my least favorite single malt, but what if I taste something that I feel is the best any Canadian Whisky can be? Does its score reflect the "best of class" showing or does it lose out because I find Canadian Whisky overly light and sweet?
As noted above, most food bloggers don't use ratings systems and I've never had anyone ask why I don't rate food using a point system, but spirits (and wine and beer) seem to fall into a different category. People just seem to want a score. Similarly, movies and music are commonly subjected to ratings scales but books seldom are. Are these differences totally arbitrary or are there more fundamental reasons why we rate some things and not others?
All of this goes to say that because of these factors, I have resisted rating whiskeys in the past, but guess what? I've now started rating whiskeys, though not for the blog. More on that next week.
1. Ratings Are Linear While Taste is Multi-Faceted
Ratings are linear by nature. Everything is compared to everything else on one single, linear scale. This is, of course, what makes them useful to consumers. I know that a whiskey rated 96 is superior to an 88, end of story. But the single rating system fails to take into account the experiential nature of whiskey and the multitude of possible responses. For instance, I recently reviewed Buffalo Trace White Dog. I would probably never reach for this whiskey to sip in my leisure time, but I think it provides an invaluable window into the Bourbon ageing process and is a must-try for any Bourbon lover. If I merely rated it on my view of its pure quality as a spirit, it would receive a lesser grade, but that lesser grade would not reflect the important, academic interest in experiencing it, the intellectual joy that comes from the experience. Some things taste amazing, but some whiskeys are worth trying because of their unique flavor profiles, experimentation or other elements. Unfortunately, there is no room for such subtlety in the world of linear ratings.
2. Taste is Subjective
Of course taste is generally subjective, and each person has different likes and dislikes, but I don't see that as a flaw, and that is not the phenomenon I am referring to here. What I'm talking about is that each of our individual tastes is subjective and can change depending on any number of environmental factors. You can taste everything blind at the same time of day in the same temperature controlled room, but even then, there are factors that are hard to control. The other day I was at a tasting of seven single malts. Five or six of them were big on sherry and one was peated. The peated one stood out from the crowd and I likely had an inflated sense of it because of that. However, if I had tasted the peated whiskey along with some of my favorite highly-peated whiskeys, I probably would have had a lesser sense of it. You could try to control for this by tasting only one whiskey per seating, but not running comparisons has its own issues as you are tasting the whiskey out of context and don't have the helpful benchmark of other whiskeys to compare it to. Some tasters taste in a variety of settings, which is probably the best practice in this case (and I always taste a whiskey at least twice before writing it up just to confirm my notes), but the subjectivity of each person's individual tastes makes ratings extremely subjective.
3. Consistency is Hard
It's fairly easy to taste a group of single malts in one sitting and create a scale or rate them from best to worst. It's harder to do that over several sittings. Was the second best whiskey we had today better than the best we had last week? It gets even murkier if you are tasting hundreds of whiskeys per year. Was the Linkwood you rated a 92 seven years ago really two full points better than the Wild Turkey you rated a 90 last week? I'm fairly skeptical of anyone who makes that type of claim without doing side by side tastings. I pride myself on my own tasting consistency, but taste memories, like all memories, can be difficult to rely on.
4. One Hundred Points is Too Many
The 100 point spread seems scientific, but it's a pseudo-science (and yes, a scorer who uses a ten point scale but also uses one place past the decimal is using a 100 point spread). What's the margin for error when you are comparing ratings over several years? Is there really any difference between a 76 and a 77? I prefer to hear a more general description than see some number. Was it bad, good, great or one of the best? Any distinction beyond those terms is unnecessary.
5. The Apples and the Oranges
Unlike whiskey bloggers, most food bloggers don't give out ratings. Indeed, many old-media food critics don't give out ratings either, and those who do are usually rating only a limited selection of high-end, formal dining venues. One of the reasons is that it is very hard to compare things as different as a dinner at a high end French restaurant, a pastrami sandwich, a bowl of ramen and an In-n-Out double double (animal style, of course) on one rating system. I would rate a Langer's pastrami sandwich as one of the best bites of food around, but does that mean I should rate it higher than the carte blanche tasting menu at Melisse? There are very few Canadian Whiskies I like better than my least favorite single malt, but what if I taste something that I feel is the best any Canadian Whisky can be? Does its score reflect the "best of class" showing or does it lose out because I find Canadian Whisky overly light and sweet?
As noted above, most food bloggers don't use ratings systems and I've never had anyone ask why I don't rate food using a point system, but spirits (and wine and beer) seem to fall into a different category. People just seem to want a score. Similarly, movies and music are commonly subjected to ratings scales but books seldom are. Are these differences totally arbitrary or are there more fundamental reasons why we rate some things and not others?
All of this goes to say that because of these factors, I have resisted rating whiskeys in the past, but guess what? I've now started rating whiskeys, though not for the blog. More on that next week.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Important Fourth of July Warning: Be Safe and Sane with S'mores
Attention foodies: Every summer, hundreds of foodies end up needlessly ruining s'mores by screwing up the ingredients. These poor saps are left with a disgusting excuse for a campfire treat and unhappy children. Don't let this happen to you!
S'mores are a simple treat; stop overthinking them with foodie ingredients. To help the struggling foodie, I have put together this very simple guide to s'more ingredients. The elements of your s'mores should be as follows:
1. Hershey's Milk Chocolate Bar
Chocolate is the essential s'more ingredient, but it's also the main way that foodies screw up. I have seen far to many foodies, sitting around the campfire after finishing their pancetta-bison burgers with confit of caramelized onion, drag out some 78% Ecuadoran single origin bean-to-bar chocolate for the s'mores. Now don't get me wrong, I'm a huge fan of high cacao chocolate and have reviewed many of them, but there is a time and a place for it. That time and place is not in your s'mores. Dark chocolate doesn't complement the pure, sticky sweetness of marshmallows and graham crackers. You want a milder flavor profile for that: the taste of old-fashioned Hershey's milk chocolate. You know, the kind you were perfectly happy with before around 1999. Plus, the richness and subtlety of high cacao bars is lost in the amalgam. Putting them on a s'more is like mixing great Bourbon with Coke; you lose the flavor. Plus, if you're s'moring with kids, artisan chocolates are (1) not kid friendly (who wants to see a kid with a sad face after eating chocolate, of all things?) and (2) filled with caffeine. Come on foodies, I know you have it in you, go to Von's or Rite Aid (you will find addresses for both on Google), walk up to that candy aisle and grab a Hershey bar.
2. Nabisco Honey Maid Graham Crackers
This is a similar issue. Most fancy schmancy graham crackers are too thick, too sweet and too full of weird flavors to make a good s'more (lavender-maple graham crackers do not belong on s'mores). The s'more is a sandwich. You want it on thin crackers that are just slightly sweet and easy to bite through. Do they taste like cardboard on their own? You bet! But the s'more is about the gestalt; the whole is greater than the sum of the parts.
3. Marshmallows
Okay, marshmallows are the one thing I will give on if the foodies are raising a ruckus. The traditional big-name marshmallows are pretty offensive and full of weird chemicals. Some of the craft marshmallows (as opposed to Kraft marshmallows) out there are pretty darn good and would probably taste good on a s'more, so I give you permission to use them, but no weird flavors (pictured above are the excellent vanilla marshmallows from BonBonBar). That being said, it won't necessarily be easy. The old Jet-Puffeds are the perfect size to slap on a stick and roast over the fire. Artisan marshmallows tend to be petite and a bit fragile. While the taste will work, the execution might not. I suggest doing a few trial runs and having a big bag of the old-standbys just in case.
So, please, have a safe and sane Fourth of July and don't ruin anyone's summer fun with your weird foodieness. Oh, and don't forget to shoot off lots of illegal fireworks! Happy Fourth!
S'mores are a simple treat; stop overthinking them with foodie ingredients. To help the struggling foodie, I have put together this very simple guide to s'more ingredients. The elements of your s'mores should be as follows:
1. Hershey's Milk Chocolate Bar
Chocolate is the essential s'more ingredient, but it's also the main way that foodies screw up. I have seen far to many foodies, sitting around the campfire after finishing their pancetta-bison burgers with confit of caramelized onion, drag out some 78% Ecuadoran single origin bean-to-bar chocolate for the s'mores. Now don't get me wrong, I'm a huge fan of high cacao chocolate and have reviewed many of them, but there is a time and a place for it. That time and place is not in your s'mores. Dark chocolate doesn't complement the pure, sticky sweetness of marshmallows and graham crackers. You want a milder flavor profile for that: the taste of old-fashioned Hershey's milk chocolate. You know, the kind you were perfectly happy with before around 1999. Plus, the richness and subtlety of high cacao bars is lost in the amalgam. Putting them on a s'more is like mixing great Bourbon with Coke; you lose the flavor. Plus, if you're s'moring with kids, artisan chocolates are (1) not kid friendly (who wants to see a kid with a sad face after eating chocolate, of all things?) and (2) filled with caffeine. Come on foodies, I know you have it in you, go to Von's or Rite Aid (you will find addresses for both on Google), walk up to that candy aisle and grab a Hershey bar. 2. Nabisco Honey Maid Graham Crackers
This is a similar issue. Most fancy schmancy graham crackers are too thick, too sweet and too full of weird flavors to make a good s'more (lavender-maple graham crackers do not belong on s'mores). The s'more is a sandwich. You want it on thin crackers that are just slightly sweet and easy to bite through. Do they taste like cardboard on their own? You bet! But the s'more is about the gestalt; the whole is greater than the sum of the parts.3. Marshmallows
Okay, marshmallows are the one thing I will give on if the foodies are raising a ruckus. The traditional big-name marshmallows are pretty offensive and full of weird chemicals. Some of the craft marshmallows (as opposed to Kraft marshmallows) out there are pretty darn good and would probably taste good on a s'more, so I give you permission to use them, but no weird flavors (pictured above are the excellent vanilla marshmallows from BonBonBar). That being said, it won't necessarily be easy. The old Jet-Puffeds are the perfect size to slap on a stick and roast over the fire. Artisan marshmallows tend to be petite and a bit fragile. While the taste will work, the execution might not. I suggest doing a few trial runs and having a big bag of the old-standbys just in case.So, please, have a safe and sane Fourth of July and don't ruin anyone's summer fun with your weird foodieness. Oh, and don't forget to shoot off lots of illegal fireworks! Happy Fourth!
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