Sushi-Gen: The Hype is Right

Sushi clean and smooth
Rich moist flesh melts into tongue
My brain sighs in joy

Haikus, though childish and cliche, are fun to write. Sushi bars, though common and often cliche in L.A., are also fun to write about.

I often get cravings not for specific foods, but for new tastes and experiences. Whenever I get the urge to explore something culinarily new, I either turn to Yelp, or my mental arsenal of places I've wanted to try for a long time.

Today, my mind rested on Sushi Gen, and would not let go. I knew it'd be a costly trip, but once my mind was set, there was no turning back.

I'd first heard of Sushi Gen sometime last year, reading an article in the Food section of the L.A. Times. A well-regarded chef mentioned it as the ultimate example of authentic, quality sushi in L.A. Then, just last week in another article of the Food section, ANOTHER chef mentioned it as a must-go restaurant while in Los Angeles. Can you see why Sushi Gen has been on my mind?

Right in the heart of Little Tokyo, Sushi Gen seems to always sport a long line. Behind the bar, the sushi chefs (generally young) work carefully but quickly, serving out perfectly portioned morsels of tender hamachi, buttery toro, and other delectable sushi. Their snapper has a limey kick, served with a dot of bright green marinade on top.

The cherry on top of my meal was their iteration of the spicy tuna roll: small pieces with a big spicy punch. Also, this roll was the first time I ever appreciated the flavor of the nori while eating sushi; theirs was a perfect balance of toasty chewy crispiness. Served with the rich nuttiness of toasted sesame seeds sprinkled inside, rather than outside, of the roll, the spicy tuna was a perfect way to end the meal.

Though it was  a quick in-and-out stop by for lunch, I can see why top chefs and neighborhood families alike can't get enough of Sushi Gen. Some of the original sushi creations by the chefs looked intriguing, and I definitely will try on my next visit (which of course there will be).

Art-like Food, or Food-like Art?

Culled from latimes.com

If art and food had a baby together, Caitlin Williams Freeman's desserts would pop out. Today the LA Times website featured a piece on the former photographer's unique and eclectic creations at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art's cafe.

One of my favorite examples of William Freeman's work is a popsicle inspired by a painting by Santa Monican artist John Zurier. The dual colors of the spearmint ice milk and strawberry popsicle of spearmint ice milk and strawberry perfectly mimic the duo-tone color block painting. And the flavor combo is super fun!

Next Door Savior: Bringing Him nearer to your heart

What does it mean that Jesus was fully man, and fully God at the same time? This question is answered over and over in Max Lucado's book Next Door Savior. Through short, yet spiritually and emotionally powerful chapters, Lucado examines the essence of Christ's utter humanity, and simultaneous consummating divinity.

In expositions of Christ's life through examples from the Gospels, Lucado breaks down familiar stories and passages and reflects them through his own unique imagination. Like a tour guide, he brings the reader into the story and brings their attention to details they might have missed, explains historical background to better understand the people and places explored, and brings life to characters who mostly look flat and one-dimensional on page. In some circumstances, Lucado becomes a time-machine-translator in a way, by taking these biblical stories and placing them in contemporary contexts, trying to help modern-day readers easily relate to foreign situations.

At times, Lucado's use of such liberties with the Holy Word made me feel uncomfortable; who is he to think he can assume and imagine what was happening in the bible? It's fine for personal reflection, but to teach these assumptions to the mass public edged the line of liberality too closely for my comfort.

However, I cannot deny that Lucado has the power of exhortation, especially when he uses these emotionally rhetorical devices. Lucado's use of personal anecdotes, his understanding and sympathy for present-day spiritual and emotion afflictions, and his sensitivity to what our hearts crave most make Next Door Savior a deeply reflective book for any person to read.

For the non-believer, it is a good book to understand what it really means for Jesus to be fully man and fully God at the same time. For the searching believer, it is a great reminder of who and what it is exactly that you believe, and why. For the mature believer, it is an excellent book to re-look at certain stories of the bible in a new light, and reset the spiritual sensor of your heart.

All in all, I don't think you'll walk away from Next Door Savior disappointed, and will definitely bring the real next door Savior nearer to your heart.

The essence of travel

A street in Jamaica Plain, Boston

One of the best ways to explore and discover a new city, is to avoid the main attractions altogether. Get off the tour bus, strap on some comfortable shoes, and download a good map of the city onto your smartphone: it's time to see the city in a whole new light.

Don't get me wrong: the famous sights are popular for a good reason. But to really get a feel for the "essence" of a city, you need to walk on the well-treaded sidewalks of the business district, eat at the grungy little coffee shop across from the train station, and take a leisurely bike ride through a sleepy suburb. Then you can discover the true beat of the heart that pumps within a city.

The scariest thing about wandering aimlessly through an unknown town is the fear of getting lost. In fact, some of the best discoveries I've made in some of the different cities I've traveled to, were found by letting go of that constant need to be in control, and letting the crowded roads and rhythm of a busy town sweep me away.

Like the little Thai place that had the best green curry I've tasted, five miles away from the main Strip in Las Vegas; a misty pond resting in the stillness of a summer dawn deep in the hills of Malibu; a cozy vegetarian restaurant snuggled amongst other quaint restaurants deep in an alley of London; all were met through the openness of a curious mind and wandering feet.

The best thing about running away from tourist roads and trolling everyday streets, is discovering a world slightly familiar, yet so different from the one you call home. My sister and I took the "T" from Downtown to Jamaica Plain, a suburb of Boston on our visit last month. The narrow, sun-dappled roads,  pastel-colored homes, and whimsical spirit of the neighborhood reminded me of home, and yet was totally foreign to me. 

In travel, you can't help but compare your destination to the place you know best; the similar things spark a comforting familiarity; but the different things bring an awareness of the foreignness of this new city. This ambiguity is the essence of travel.

So, fellow netizens, heed my call: the next time you visit a new city, town, or country, try taking that small side road, instead of the main thoroughfare; you might find exactly what you were/were not looking for.

Hungry Pocket doesn't empty your wallet

The Lamb Shawarma Plate at the Hungry Pocket

Let’s face it, Santa Monica is not the first place someone would think to go for some good, quick Mediterranean food. However, possibly due to the large number of Middle Eastern students attending Santa Monica College right across the street, Hungry Pocket Falafel House is an unexpected haven for some strongly satisfying Mideast grub.

At first glance, the unassuming stark exterior of the building that houses the fast food establishment doesn’t feel too promising. Neither is the first step into the stuccoed and tiled miniscule space. The hand-painted flowery designs over the arches and red wooden trimmings bring taquerias and Mexican-style street tacos to mind, more than it does hummus and falafels.

Comic newspaper clippings on politics in the Middle East, and all-you-can-eat falafel night

But don’t let the size or décor stop you from trying this place out. For cheap and fast Mediterranean in Santa Monica, this is the place to beat.

Offering most of the typical Mediterranean fare from falafels to kabobs, hummus and tabouleh, though not perfectly authentic and high quality, this place will fulfill a temporary fix.

Read the rest on Examiner.com here.

D + J Recommendations Part 1

Two friends of mine who are dating asked me for some recommendations on good places to eat in L.A., and of course I was happy to oblige. There just are so many good places to eat, so I decided to update the list in parts. D + J will probably gain some weight chasing down these amazing eats, but they're both pretty skinny, so a few extra pounds won't really matter.

Let's start with Ktown and move outwards, shall we?

Best Sushi: Noshi Sushi. It's on the corner of Beverly and Hobart. Sushi is usually pricey, but this place is really worth it. It's Japanese owned and run, not like most sushi places in Ktown. Best things to get here: spicy tuna rolls, california rolls, uni, yellowtail, the yellowtail salad, dynamite, tempura, and pretty much any sushi. And awesome green tea.

Best gohgoomah cake: Cafe Mak, on Shatto Place between 6th and Wilshire. I like to go and study here sometimes, because there are a lot of small tables, it's cozy, they have free wifi, and music isn't too loud. Like most Ktown cafes, the drinks are kind of expensive, but their gohgoomah cake really is amazing, if you like sweet things. Its a nice place to study, to stop by with friends and have a chat, or have a date :)

Best ice cream: Scoops on Heliotrope Drive (a few blocks west of Vermont), just north of Melrose. This tiny shop is behind the LACC campus, and has really amazing and creative ice cream flavors, like balsamic vinegar and ricotta, strawberries and basil, and their most famous flavor, brown bread. They make their ice cream fresh every day, so sometimes if you go too late, they run out of flavors, and have really long lines. But every time I've gone, the lines haven't been too long.

Best kong gook soo and kahl gook soo: Myung Dong Kyoja on Wilshire and Harvard. They have a really small menu, mostly kahl gook soo and kong gook soo, and super garlicky kimchi, but they really hit the spot when you're craving some hot or cold noodles. I love that they give you mini mandu in the kahl gook soo, and also that they're open 24 hours... it's the perfect place to go late night for some huge filling bowls of noodles.


Best cheong gook jang bibimbap: Olympic Cheong Gook Jang on Olympic, a block west of Hoover on Arapahoe Street. If you don't like the smell of chung gook jang, you should just take this togo, but their bibimbap is really amazing. I haven't had anything else here, and it's a pretty small store. But they slice fresh lettuce on top, and serve the bibimbap with a small side of chung gook jang that is really good mixed into the bap. And the banchan taste even better than your halmuhnee's... perfectly seasoned and just the right amount of spicy.

I'll list some more places again soon!

The Misfit's happy hour: bang or bust?

Crispy Fries at The Misfit Restaurant and Bar

 Half off happy hours at buzzed-about new bars and restaurants draw L.A.’s foodies like sweet nectar to bees. The Misfit features such a happy hour, in tourist-happy downtown Santa Monica. Although with a name like “The Misfit”, customers might expect a bit more quirkiness in décor and menu than what they actually encounter at the newly opened bar and restaurant.

The atmosphere           

Walking in on a bright Saturday afternoon, dark wood panels, low-slung leather chairs, and nude women cavorting in flowery murals spread above the bar bring old boys’ clubs to mind. High windows cut into the walls and dark fans swinging overhead add a light and summery feel to an otherwise rustic yet refined environment.

Noting the dark browns and iron trimmings of the room, and the heavy bass of the loud and mostly electronic music, the bar and restaurant are apparently best enjoyed during evening hours.


Promptly seated in the sparsely populated room, a companion notes the inventive use of a wine cork as a prop for a card displaying the brunch and drink options available on the weekend. It’s a quaint touch added to the masculine chrome and glass table settings.

Continue reading on Examiner.com: The Misfit's happy hour: bang or bust?

Santa Monica's pop up Food Alley

Komodo truck's tacos, clockwise from top left: Soi (tofu), Java (pork), Fish n' Grapes, Komodo 2.0 (steak)

Driving around the white-collar entertainment jungle east of 20th Street and south of Santa Monica Boulevard, it’s hard to imagine finding anything more exotic or affordable to eat for lunch than a burrito from La Salsa.

Adventurous budget-conscious lunch hunters can celebrate, because Santa Monica’s very own Food Alley is open for business.

Located on Pennsylvania Avenue, a short one-way road off of 26th Street, a colorful train of about 20 food trucks park their aromatic frames, sandwiched by buildings that house local offices of MTV, Yahoo!, and a branch of Santa Monica College.

Every weekday starting around 11:00 a.m. to about 2:30 p.m. workers from the surrounding neighborhood trickle onto the unobtrusive street, asking themselves the all-important question: which truck will feed me today?

Luis Acosta, a student at SMC, likes having lots of options to choose from. He likes how each truck and each food selection has a theme.

Almost like an amusement park, every truck does have a theme; on one particular day, the options ranged from Komodo, to Aloha Fridays, and Baby’s Badass Burgers. Competition may be what helps keep food truck prices low.

“There’s a lot of options, so it’s not particularly good for each truck, versus spots where people come to find us just for us,” says Erin Stack, an employee at the Baby’s truck.

Continue reading on Examiner.com: Santa Monica's pop up food alley

Phil Had His Fill

     Boy, when the Lakers disappoint, they really hammer it home. Their last series with the Dallas Mavericks ended with a 4-0 score, placing the Mavericks solidly into the NBA Western Finals, and sending the Los Angeles Lakers weakly limping to an early vacation, and their coach possibly regretting staying on for this last season.

Millions of fans across L.A. were left with long faces, including its Mayor, Antonio Villaraigosa.

“It seemed like a sure thing – my deputies figured Phil Jackson would leave the coaching ranks in a victory parade from City Hall to the Staples Center and provide me with more photo ops than the SEALS had with Osama bin Laden” the mayor said.

Instead, Phil Jackson took a defeatist’s final march from the basketball court to the locker room, sure that this would be the last time as the Lakers’ head coach.

Backlash towards the Lakers’ poor performance and poorer sportsmanship literally twittered across cyberspace after their spectacular loss, but sympathy towards Phil Jackson was more prevalent than not.

Blogging on North Hollywood’s Patch.com site, writer Patrick Hasson berated, “Shame on you, Lakers,” but showed compassion to Jackson stating, “You deserved better.”

The Lakers struggled in their first match up of the NBA tournament against the New Orleans Hornets, playing inconsistently and barely making it through the first round.

By the time the Mavericks came around, it seemed like the Lakers were playing to disappoint.

Usually even keeled Jackson displayed his frustrations in a well-replayed video of him roughly poking center Pau Gasol in the chest while passionately speaking with him on the court.

Desperately scampering to win just one game, the Lakers lost them all.

“This team just had an ability to get in a funk and not be able to resurge,” Jackson said in his exit press conference.

Asked whether he was relieved that the season was over, he replied, “I’m always relieved.”

Coaching for 20 years and at 65 years old, maybe it is time for Jackson to step down and take some well-deserved time off.

At a recent press conference in Westwood, journalist and Valley Village resident Larry Gerber confessed to be a fan of the Lakers.

When asked about whether he thought Jackson would ever go back to coaching, Gerber commiserated with the embattled coach: “I’m his age. I think he’s 64. If he doesn’t come back to work, I don’t blame him, because I don’t feel like it either.”

With an extensive career that sent him across the globe and working for various publications and organizations, including Emmy magazine, the Associated Press, and the Institute for War and Peace reporting, Gerber worked hard to be a solid reporter and editor.

But like Jackson, working long and hard for 20 years was enough to throw in the towel—at least for now.

The Story of Rain

During the cloudy May Gray and June Gloom season, the haze of overcast marine layer can be kind of depressing. The insistent wall of clouds looming on the coastal horizon aren’t even heavy with promising rain, or choppy with the hope of a glimpse of the sun.

But days like today, when towering billows of thunderous gray bring ever-welcomed rain to the droughty L.A. basin, the clouds play second fiddle to the rare spots of dark moisture on dusty sidewalks and sooty cars.

Parched container plants perched on balconies greet the flighty swirls of sprinkle that flurry like snow, while the transient seek the coveted dry overhang in a deserted alley.

Weeks, even months, worth of toxic sludge and muddy trash flow in light rivulets down gutters in the street, following their designated path out to the ocean just a few blocks away.

Dedicated surfers anticipate the waves that respond to the change in weather, promising lots of power and lots of itchy rashes from the aforementioned street waste washed out into their playground.

Among all this, the cozy writer sits, nestled into a nook in a neighborhood café, warmed by hazelnut coffee from the inside, the wafting toasty flavors of the bakery comforting without, and the wide windows displaying a city lightly drizzled in cool misty rain, in preparation for the long, baking L.A. summer ahead.

First Fruits at the Wednesday Market

First Corn Spotted at Gloria's Farms' Stand

Crunchy, extremely tart peaches, but first seen at the Wednesday market

     There's nothing like the beginning of a new season when the year-long wait is over, and forgotten annual fruits and vegetables start popping up again for their once in a blue moon visit. One of the best places in the urban jungle of Los Angeles to actually see the seasons in action are the neighborhood farmers' markets.

     During the weekly Wednesday market located in Downtown Santa Monica, roughly at 2nd Street and Arizona Avenue, stone fruits are finally making an appearance. At one stand, an apricot cousin named "Apriums" release their buttery sweet fragrance.

     When asked about the hybrid status of the fruit, the man behind the stand spouts a long speech on the process of breeding and growing fruit, expressing his passion and expertise in the field, without actually ever answering the initial question.

     A few stands down, white peaches with dusky rose skins are piled into yellow bins. There's a bustling crowd around the stand, curious to smell, feel, and taste what hasn't been spotted in almost eight months. Tasters are in for an unpleasant, face scrunching surprise. These peaches are so tart, they make lemons seem as mild as potatoes. Even at $2 a pound, they're not ripe enough to tempt most shoppers.

At a local double-stand favorite, Gloria's Farms debuts their ever popular sweet white corn. Predictably, the ears and kernels are on the small side. But with one glance, their crunchy toothsome qualities cannot be denied. At $2 for three ears, their usual price, these corn are worth it to feature at a weekend barbeque to match the recent great weather.

For My Fromage du Jour...

Unie Kaas Gouda from Whole Foods, Raisin and Rosemary Crackers from Trader Joe's

Ah, sweet Unie Kaas, what crumbly and butter-nutty delight will you promise for the world today?

I first stumbled upon Unie Kaas cheese when my sister randomly chose it out of the slightly intimidating selection spread out in our giant neighborhood Whole Foods. At first bite, the shock your mouth experiences from the flavors and textures of the cheese is very similar to the shock of walking into an oversized, slightly ostentatious organic and gourmet foods mecca like the Wilshire and 23rd Whole Foods in Santa Monica.

The first punch of the cheese is a zinger, kind of like a really sharp Cheddar, waking up the feelers on your tongue, making your brain sit up and say, "What the heck was that?" After that first wake up call, your taste buds start to become more acquainted with this newcomer, finding that past the initial loudness, there is a creamy gooeyness to the toasted almost nutty center of the cheese.

And don't even get me started on the texture of this mellow yellow, but firm to the touch fromage extraordinaire. When your teeth first sink into the hard but smooth exterior, some softening within the warm and moist confines of your mouth is to be expected. All of a sudden, your teeth encounter something surprisingly gritty, with the dimensions of something like rough large sea salt granules and similar to them in taste. The contrast between the creaminess of the first bite, the luscious luxury of the cheese just beginning to melt in your mouth, and the occasional hard bite of crystalized saltiness forms a kind of organized cacophany of a symphony within your mouth that echoes the organized chaos found at the cheese counter at Whole Foods.

This cheese is the perfect little snack when I'm craving something salty in between meals; I just break off a Hershey nugget sized piece, and I'm good to go for a few hours. The bold salinity of the flavor satisfies my umami craving so well, that even one small bite makes me feel like I'm biting into a full-flavored turkey sandwich. It is also the perfect cheese to jazz up a boring, tasteless cracker. My sister, once again going out on a limb, tried buying a very healthy, very dry, very Swedish cracker, that all exaggerations aside, looked, smelled, felt, and tasted like cardboard. However, by pairing the cheese with the horror of this Swiss monstrosity, the cracker itself seemed to change personality, and moved from a sterile, staid piece of everyday, to a bohemian hippie-cookie with character.

Now, the possibilities are endless as to what this cool cat of a cheese can do for the most boring of foods, and possibly the most bored of palates.

A Golden Afternoon Stroll

Rome, Italy

There are moments in time when I wish I could capture the beauty of the scene my eye perceives at that exact moment in a photo; but rarely does the actual picture accurately depict the subtle nuances and lighting of the moment. The above photo is one of those rare instances when vision and depiction are represented nearly equally.

Walking from the Trevi Fountain to Campo dei Fiori, with the late afternoon sun filtering through the dusky alleyways of ancient Rome, you can't help but be lifted into a golden romantic mood. Meandering through the crooked cobblestoned streets, tiny cafes and artisanal boutiques beckoning right and left, brightly painted buildings  mingle with sagging doorways and window boxes filled with flowers and herbs.

Lively shadows bounce across the pathways, relieving the harsh glare of the sun that creates sentimental patterns with lamps, benches, and signs announcing the plato di giorno, fresh market offerings, and gelato flavors.

Ancient structures house modern appliances, when a pizza shop displays its wares through clean glass panes, drink coolers, and fluorescent lit entryways.

Mounds of creamy, neon-colored ice cream await the weary traveler in need of refreshment; a quick perusal reveals classic flavors sharing space with unconventional pairings. My sister chooses her favorite:  mixed berry with chocolate. The miniature spoon scoops up a blob of rich, deep chocolate taste cutting through the sweet tartness of the berry flavor. It is the perfect snack for a perfect afternoon stroll through an ancient Roman village.

Ultimate Travel Partner Compatibility Needs

"Welcome to my home", said the queen.

Ah, maman, the joy and bane of my existence. I partially knew what I was getting into, when it was decided that she would be along for my dream European tour. Yet, there were still things I was going to discover along this trip that I had not foreseen.

There are a few things I have learned in my travels that traveling partners must share for the most optimal journeying experience. One, all partners should have similar spending habits, and spending habits on similar things. Two, expectations should be shared, and voiced previous to the outset, even planning stages, of the trip. Three, planning styles should coincide: minute-by-minute planning, completely spontaneous, or a mix.

You would think, that as family members it would be a given that my mom, sister, and I would be compatible at least moderately in all of these areas; that is what I thought too. Unfortunately, not only was this not the case, I discovered a few more items to add to my "Ultimate Travel Partner Compatibility Needs" list.

First, all travelers should have similar energy levels (which indirectly corresponds to similar sleeping and waking times). Second, spending time away from each other along the trip is not only helpful, but I am increasingly coming to believe that it is necessary. Third, though complaining is not welcomed or appreciated, all voices in the group should be held with regard and respect.

Traveling with my mom was not easy. I might go so far as to say that my "Dream European Vacation" was not so much a dream because of her, carrying the burden of catering to her energy levels and needs all along the way. However, I must be appreciative to her financial and emotional support throughout the trip, and her diligence in keeping complaints and criticisms to a minimum (which was probably the most difficult part of the trip for her).

Je t'aime maman... even though at times she can turn a dream into a living nightmare.

Hedonistic Heddon Street

More often than not, the best travel experiences are found not in the planned moments, but in the accidental discoveries.

Walking down Regent Street in London (which had not been planned, but happened upon while visiting Piccadilly Circus, also not planned), my family and I fell across a charming, unobtrusive entryway to a side alley off the main street. Curious (as the best open-minded tourists are), wide-eyed, and observant, we meandered down the well-lighted, inviting cobblestonewalk, and stumbled upon one of the most delightful foodie-appealing areas of our entire European tour.

Filled with culinary delights, including the infamous Absolut Ice Bar, the pedestrianized small side street is lined with cozy outdoor seating (think couches and semi-concealing greenery), twinkling indigo LED lights overhead, and trendy gorgeous Londoners and tourists alike.

We contemplated our choices, ultimately narrowed down to a homey family-style bistro and the tall inviting windows perfectly framing enthusiastic diners and to-die-for dishes in a vegetarian enclave across the way. We ultimately chose the gorgeous layout of the veggies-only extravaganza known as "Tidbits".

The whole experience can be summarized in two words: welcoming and fresh. The decor was modern but comfortable, the vegetables tasted like they'd been plucked off the vine and trimmed from their roots a mere hours before, and service was prompt and eagerly friendly. The variety at the bar was pleasantly surprising as well (this is a serve-yourself, pay-the-cashier type of place). Perky vegetable salads shared equal space with warm curries, fluffy couscous, and stuffed fried jalapenos, and a classic Pimm's and Lemonade was a perfect complement to the relatively light menu. The menu wasn't the only thing that left me feeling giddily effervescent: the check was surprisingly light as well. The entire meal for three women, including a typically overpriced drink (6 pounds), was about 20 pounds, extremely cheap compared to London (and I'm guessing Heddon Street) standards.

My sister said it best on Facebook: "A pay-by-weight vegetarian restaurant that we weren't expecting to find in London! Would def go back". Visitors and natives alike, here is a refreshing break from the fish'n'chips, bangers and mash, and shepherd's pie fare that comforts, but does not satisfy the farmer's-market-cultivated-palate.

If ever on an extended trip in London again, I also "would def go back".