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We live in Silver Lake, over on the northeastern side of things, and slowly we're building our culinary experiences. Select a Category on the right to get started.

Know a place we should try? Leave feedback or click the Contact link to suggest new places to tickle and tantalize our taste buds (but without silly review-style sentences like that one).

Dave and Bianca

Probably, if you're one of the four or five dear, kindly people who visit this site, you've noticed the frequency of reviews has been a bit like a receding hairline.

I like to blame terrorists and penguins, because it's easy and fun. I look up from my work and realize oh, pus and hellation, my last review was five days ago. Bad blogger. No taco.

But, I may also take a bit of time off, for three primary reasons:

1) Work. My schedule has been fairly frantic and cramped, and my radius of lunchtime eateries has been swept like a radar screen. When I am hunkered down over a stubborn bunch of code, I am unable to escape for a leisurely lunch to visit somewhere new.

2) School. This is another semester of twenty or so books to read for classes, and it eats most ravenously into my food-writing and research time. I am more likely to be on JSTOR at the moment than on Yelp.

3) Health. I, shaking my head sadly over test results, am doing some battening of the hatches. Some numbers are too high, others too low, and while I slaver at the thought of writing about pancakes colored with a latticework of pale cream and grilled brown, or glistening, chewy-at-the-corners heaps of carnitas bursting with their own porkiness, I need to take a break.

Ah, but Dave, isn't this simply an opportunity to review healthy and vetegarian places? Sure, and I will. I haven't yet been to Paru's Indian on Sunset, or the Elf Cafe in Echo Park, Cinnamon in Highland Park, or even Cru, which is close enough to visit on foot. But there aren't that many. Besides, I am unlikely to bother reviewing a fair chopped salad at a restaurant renowned for its juicy, near-blasphemous steaks. It's unfair to the restaurant, and you.

It's not forever. I do have some reviews lined up and will post them, and will always continue to gather new worlds to conquer. This is my second-to-last semester before graduation. My culinary choices will be spread with moderation. Cobwebs will not accumulate.

Thanks as always if you've been here.

Dave

Thirty years later, still going
11940 Ventura Blvd. (east of Laurel Canyon)
Phone: 818-763-6204 | map | website

It looks cramped, but the interior extends a long, long way back, toward an enclosed patio replete with waterfall and koi pond. Paneled walls with Japanese woodblock prints add gravity to the sea of wooden tables, each separated by moveable dividers, like Tetris pieces ready to expand a party of four to a party of ten. The hubbub of patrons mostly drowns out the unfortunate thump of R&B grooves and pop rock.

Diminutive women in blue-print kimono wrap blouses dart between the tables, the glitz on their eyelashes matching that of their nails. A pair of plates with communal, baseball-sized heaps of ginger and wasabi are deposited before you.

Teru is not so much a place to establish a contemplative relationship with a dish of elegantly marinated monkfish liver. The style here is a little sushi-ya, a little izakaya, and like Tomo Sushi in Burbank, they think up creative ways to juxtapose ingredients and sauces. Your dishes are made quite quickly for such a bustling restaurant, and delivered almost simultaneously, boomboomboom, before you can ask "which one is this?"

I tend to avoid rice cakes like the stacked discs of packing popcorn they too often are, but the Spicy Tuna on Rice Cake is a statuesque creation; warm, fried blocks of rice support a cool strip of avocado and a fairly mild heap of spicy tuna. It is many-flavored, and I think it is my favorite of their specialties.

It has a brow-raisingly irreverent title, and it doesn't look friendly in pictures, but the Monkey Brain is also a favorite. An unlikely combination of mushrooms stuffed with crab meat and shrimp tempura is deep-fried into submission. The effect is a complex layering of warmth and softness, crispiness and umami. Two dipping sauces--a creamy sesame dressing and a red-swirled mayo--flank the reddish gold hemispheres, and end up getting used on a lot of other dishes when no one is looking.

The Sexy Roll is also sexier in real life than on camera, being a wicked foursome of albacore, crab, shrimp tempura, and avocado writhing in one cylinder of rice, without a shred of nori in sight. The roll is made even rarer, in that it is then drenched in a sauce of creamy sesame dressing and spicy red oil, cohabitating but refusing to mix. The effect is lush and worthy of a couple of repentant Hail Marys.

I'm unsure how traditional the use of beef is as a sushi component, but the New York Roll is welcome. Asparagus and green onion are wrapped in thin sheets of New York steak and grilled. Sprinkled with sesame seeds and draped in a non-sweet teriyaki sauce, the steak shows a tender quality, with a brisk crunch of asparagus stalk.

They do kushi fare here, too. The Chilean Sea Bass kushi yaki is hung over the robata until striped black; it looks like it would be tough, unforgiving, and stuck to the skewer, but it isn't. The sea bass is implodingly tender, to the point where you wonder why it hasn't disintegrated yet. Thin, serious cuts of scallion hold the gentle slabs of fish apart. These are eaten far too fast.

Because we can't say no to overly lavish dishes, we get the Panko-Encrusted Tuna Sashimi, different from a standard katsu dish like a Range Rover HSE is different from a Jeep CJ5. Tuna sliced into thick strips rests atop a hillock of greens, its fiery pink strata peeking from its panko crust. A little too much mustard sauce provides a gentle flare of spice.

Some people complain about the prices, but I expect they are used to "half off sushi" signs. With a party of four, three tokkuri of house saki, and a number of rolls and dishes, we came to under a hundred and fifty. Valet is a reasonable (for L.A.) $3.50.

Reservations are recommended on weekends, but Teru is open every night until a comfortably late eleven-o-clock.

Many thanks to Rosina and Doug for bringing us, and for being patient while I desperately snapped photos and scribbled notes.

The fifth element is love?
850 S. La Brea Ave. (north of 9th Street)
Phone: 323-931-3000 | map
4655 Hollywood Blvd. (in Los Feliz)
Phone: 323-669-3922 | map
website

There's a strip of Hollywood Boulevard, before it dies at Hillhurst east of Vermont, that is slowly gathering personality. A few trendy stores, an American Apparel, Vacation Records, the smaller location of Maya, and Yuca's crowd nearby.

In this space, the eastern branch of Cobras & Matadors came and went, not quite belonging. The decor isn't too different--dark and wood and rust--but it's a little more approachable, attended by willowy people in white shirts with varying degrees of confidence.

Umami. You've heard of this fifth taste by now, the savory flavor that the traditional Western sweet/sour/salty/bitter compass doesn't quite grok. The burgers here are very concerned with exploring, or exploiting, or exploding, this fifth sense.

The Umami x6 is their primary beast, a fist-sized, calculated mess, seared hard to be slightly crunchy outside and alarmingly tomato-pink on the inside (a waiter politely confirmed that medium rare is preferred for maximum flavor, with which I agree... but I had misgivings about whether this was actually medium rare). A small pile of onions are done to a cool blanket atop, while a crispy doily of shredded cheese provides crunch. The experience is toothsome, serious, and thought-provoking, and makes me a little sad that it isn't larger, or that there aren't two of them.

The original La Brea location is smaller, cramped actually, its tables surrounded by wooden slats and fireplace bricks. Only at this location can you get the Triple Pork Burger.

Under the butter-wet bun and a single humorless leaf of lettuce is a thick, sordid entity of porcine grandeur. Ground pork, chorizo, applewood smoked bacon (which disappears somehow--I mean, how can you have bacon in a burger and it doesn't stand out?), all lie together like lions with the lamb of melting manchego cheese* swelling from the edges. A pimento aioli sauce drips redly over the side.

Remind me, many long years from now, to have my casket lined with chorizo.

Lots of restaurants throw a green chile or some salsa on something and call it Latin, but their Latin Turkey Burger, available only at the Hollywood location, is inspired and very carefully considered.

A spicy guava glaze like a hot chutney has the most influence here, leaving little room for the chile-lime cucumber sauce and a cool, chunky avocado relish. The effect is warm, lush, tropical, comforting, and more than merely umami, hitting all the corners of the mouth like a rampant jai-alai ball.

The fries aren't too numerous, but they're heavy. Hand cut and triple-cooked, they are salt-encrusted, heat-retaining beams that would get a sunburn if left out on a hot day.

The dipping sauces really make their living here, especially the house spread, which is like thousand island dressing but more well-read. I like the roasted garlic aioli, mayo-thick and creamy white, but then I always like a roasted garlic aioli.

The Sweet Potato Fries are thinly sliced and dusted with what I would swear is raw sugar, and which I'm told also has cinnamon in it, and somehow the effect works. The sweetness of the fries' namesake is drawn out, and the best dipping sauce with this is Umami's ketchup, which is practically a sweet marinara sauce.

I am not a fan of onion rings. I cannot refuse, though, a name like Malt Liquor Tempura Onion Rings. Presented with the sweet ketchup, each pale golden torus is airy, light and paints the fingers with a sheen of salt and light oil. A hint of malt liquor remains.

The original La Brea joint is open until ten, while Hollywood shrugs and stays open until midnight. A new "Urban" location on Cahuenge is now open.

* Spanish Manchego is, as you may know depending on how long you've been reading this blog, my very favorite cheese. So you know what my bribery price is.

How did I miss this?
18415 Vanowen St. (east of Reseda)
Phone: 818-708-3344 | map | website

This is the original joint owned by the family that runs Melody's over on Reseda. They have similar color schemes, in that just about every color is present, especially an electric blue on the walls and enough smiling porcelain sun-god faces to wonder if you're being spied upon.

Las Fuentes is bigger in every respect, but possesses a tighter heavy-duty production assembly. There is an area to order, an area to pick up your drinks and baskets of warm chips, an area to pick up your food, a time to every purpose, under Heaven, etc. Once they call your order in English and Spanish through the loudspeaker, wade through the sea of shuffling people bearing trays and tubs of salsa.

I'm unsure how they accomplish this, considering the high volume of customers, but I'd say Las Fuentes is the better kitchen. This lovely tortilla-cloaked example has no red sauce on it; it's skin-on, wonderfully grilled chicken, and nothing else. No onions (although you put some on from the salsa bar), no cilantro (although you put some on from the salsa bar), and no salsa (etc.). It is glorious and textured, like a crackly mouthful of chicharron.

Not to be outdone, the writhing, violently colored mass that is the Taco de Machaca has enough content to force you to use a fork until it is half gone, at which time you can safely pick it up. The tender, tomato-reddened stew meat seems almost too good for the two poor corn tortillas.

And, oh. This. Another taco you want to try, if only once, is the Taco de Carne con Queso, a thing of savory, explosive beauty. It's cubed steak with tomatoes, with white cheese melted over it, and you aren't sure whether to eat it or pull it up to your shoulders and take a cozy nap under it. A schmear of beans rests underneath for traction. This will cure your hangover... or really, your desire to do anything afterwards.

Whatever meat you order with the Burrito Especial will be deluged with a mass of tasty refried beans and thick slices of avocado. I crave the Al Pastor with its moodily seasoned demeanor and its crispy edges. You can get them Gringo Style, which means there's ranchera sauce and melted cheese over it. The quesadillas, too, are piled high and startle you with the sheer amount of food they hook you up with.

I am very sad at being so full. I have, intentionally and with malice aforethought, eaten too much Las Fuentes, and it is all the fault of my dear friend Doug R. I blame friend Erik H., too, because they used to come here all the time after the clubs closed and I never knew about it.

Las Fuentes is open every day at eight in the morning, so you can get your Huevos al Gusto or your Papas con Chorizo, until 11 at night. A claustrophobic strip along the building serves as a parking lot, for both the restaurant and the folkloric art gallery next door.

A man with ideas
144 N. San Fernando Blvd. (@ Orange Grove, in Burbank)
Phone: 818-729-0808 | map | website

The Burbankian stretch of the 5 Freeway is a haven for chain restaurants*. Despite the small-town-street stylings of San Fernando Blvd., they've jammed a world of consumer-oriented enterprises to make Orange County jealous.

Burbank does have its hidden spots, though, after you've stumbled out of the AMC Theater blinking in the sunlight and looking for lunch. A sign outside Tomo boasts a large vegetarian menu, which brings us inside; we smile at the hundreds upon hundreds of one dollar bills taped to the walls, each decorated by patrons. This is not a precise, minimalist, tightly zen sushi establishment, but is fast and loose, creative and casual without delving into the embarrassing world of sake bombs and setting-sun headbands.

The man behind the counter is Tom, who greets people enthusiastically. Locals know and love this place, caring nothing for the fact that Tom happens to be Chinese, for he obviously loves his craft, putting together unusual combinations which he urges you to try.

The cut rolls here are futomaki style, thick and unwieldy and put together oh-so-fast, many wrapped in ghostly soy paper instead of nori. He is a little heavier on the anointments--shoyu and wasabi--than typical.

His signature piece is the Tomo Roll, a combination of crab, unagi, shrimp tempura, cucumber and avocado that works unexpectedly well, wrapped in soy paper and dusted with sesame seeds. The warm, sauce-brushed eel smolders in the center, contrasting with the cold shreds of crab.

We normally shy from casually titled dishes, but the One Night Stand Roll has sinful personality, like an angel descended from Heaven and made you forget your earrings on his/her nightstand. Shrimp tempura and crab meat cohabitate again, but with an orange shock of spicy tuna, making for an energetic mouthful. Again, coolness rubs against the warmth of the shrimp tempura, and the result fairly shines with flavor.

The Futomaki Roll is a nicely mellow in-between piece. Gobo (Japanese carrot) mixes with avocado, strips of fried tofu, cucumber, and shrimp. Tamago (sweet egg) lends a yellow friendliness. This is one of the few rolls encased in the conventional nori instead of soy paper.

The Happy Family Roll is an absurd semicircle of crunchy sweetness; a snappy pile of tempura shavings lies atop more of Tom's smoothly spicy tuna; tempura shrimp tails grin from either end. The interplay of temperature and texture is astounding. The face is drawn with careful squirts from a bottle of sriracha hot sauce.

The ono is something you need to try. Most elegantly presented on the Snow White Roll, the milk-white tuna is draped over a crabmeat-filled roll. It has a quiet intensity to it, worthy of contemplation yet not something in which you overindulge. It is the dot on the exclamation point.

Tom will often prompt you in his booming voice, eliciting your approval with mackerel from Japan (melty), Japanese scallops (sliced like half dollars and incredibly soft). He may finish with a tiny square of nori, on which is an entire clove of Japanese garlic, which pops like a light cashew and has no garlicky reek at all; or, he may throw some spicy tuna, crabmeat and cucumber stick onto stiff fried wonton wrappers and drizzle eel sauce on top for a curious sweetness. Many of these things will be on the house. Before you recover from this epiphany, you will have orange slices and even some Strawberry Pocky.

* Off the top of my head, within potato-gun range: Kabuki, P.F. Chang's, Fuddrucker's, Baja Fresh, Chipotle, BJ's Brewhouse, Hooters, Chevy's Fresh Mex. This does not include the Swedish meatballs at Ikea.