Brewing Company Hops into Wine-Soaked Solvang!

Normally I am content to subtly link my articles on my Published Writing page, but seeing this Feature article published is cause for celebration! If I hadn’t imbibed all the beer in my fridge already, I would be popping open a bottle, because this was a difficult birth. I initially interviewed the Renfrows in the partially finished Viking Room on June 25th, when the estimated opening date was in August. Then, the opening date was September, then Oktoberfest, and now – finally – the Solvang Brewing Company has opened its doors and my article hit the stands on Wednesday!

I’m always proud when a feature gets published, but I get special warm fuzzy feelings with this one. It’s the community connection that I love writing about, and covering the long-awaited reopening of the Viking Room and historic windmill allowed me to show what a special community Solvang is. The last paragraph captures the heart of the story:

“A few months ago, this gentleman pulled up—he had to be close to 90—all spiffed up in a dress shirt, a bola, and a cowboy hat, heavy Danish accent. He says ‘When ’ja gonna be open?’” recalled Renfrow, who gave the man the planned opening date. “Fantastic; that’s my seat,” replied the man. “I used to sit there with my wife. Can I have that seat opening day?” Renfrow immediately obliged, promising, “We may have to kick someone out, but that seat is yours.”

Where else can you find a 90-year old Danish cowboy in a pickup truck? Only in my home town.

So I would like to send a shout-out to the Renfrows, their partners, their brewmaster and chef for giving me outstanding material to work with and telling me the stories that created this story. Best of luck on your new venture, and I will be there this weekend to raise a glass to you in person.

Solvang Brewing Company

1547 Mission St., Solvang
805-688-2337

Hotel Del Coronado

San Diego is such a beautiful city. When crossing the bridge to Coronado island, it looks a lot like Tokyo with the bays, bridges, boats and towering modern skyline. Coronado is more quaint than the fantasyland of Odaiba though. Every street has renovated Victorian, mock-Tudor, Greek revival and Spanish style houses - but the crowning glory is the Hotel Del.Charles and I came here last weekend during the 50th anniversary of the filming of "Some Like it Hot" with Tony Curtis and Marilyn Monroe. In fact, the day we were there, the hotel was hosting An Evening with Tony Curtis - but we didn't spot him. We did, however, spot these two in their very formal bathing attire.The beach at The Del glitters with gold dust. I've never seen anything like it. It's as if a kid dumped ten tons of craft sparkles over the sand.We walked around the expensive shops selling overpriced clothing and jewelry, but I stopped dead in my tracks when I smelled caramel and chocolate from the chocolate shop. If you're going to spend money at the Del, spend it here (and not at the crummy ice-cream place; it looks like good ice-cream, but isn't).

Yes, these were expensive too. And fattening. So I took a picture - it lasts longer and has no calories. Then we went to the aforementioned ice-cream shop, which was a mistake. No pictures of the ice-cream, we tasted, we said "Blech!" and threw it out (though not before Charles' ice-cream cone melted all over his hands). An imperfect ending to an otherwise glorious day.

SpiceMonkey Adventures in Little India

I dragged Charles to Little India last year to explore these few mysterious blocks in Artesia, but it didn't take us long to figure out that we had Nooooo idea what we were looking at. I needed a guide. A couple weeks ago, I finally found my sherpa: my cooking cohort from SpiceMonkey (who prefers to remain anonymous). She is Indian and has lived in the Los Angeles area for years, but has never been to Little India. But, her family had a number of recommendations for us, the first being Woodlands Restaurant. This is one of the few Indian restaurants that serves South Indian food - most places serve North Indian recipes which is where you'll find Tikka Masala and naan. Each region of India has very different kinds of food and I'm just beginning to learn about them, but one of the things to look for in Southern Indian cuisine is the dosa.

I can't help but compare Indian food with Mexican food. It's beans and rice wrapped in an Indian-style tortilla to me. Ok, I'm half joking. Indian food is more complex than that. But I still think of dosas as Indian burritos.

Don't ask me what the curries are, but they were very good!

Again, I have no idea what this is. It's not fried eyeballs, that is all I know. [edit: they are called Gulab Jamuns]

Chapati, I think. But it looked really cool glowing in the light! [Not chapati after all: these are papads a.k.a appalams a.k.a. poppadoms]

After our South Indian lunch we walked around the four blocks that make up Little India between 183rd St. and 187th St. I love the store windows of the sari stores...

but the demon-children freaked me out a little. Yes, that little boy does have glowing red eyes.

Being girls, we couldn't resist looking at the saris. Whether cotton or silk,the fabrics are beautiful, bright, and elaborately embroidered. And my friend persuaded me to try one on, even though I was sure I'd look silly. Even in India, saris are not cheap. And if you're a white-girl like me standing in a shop in Little India, the price goes waaaay up. I'm saving my rupees for my trip, but this was a good test run. At least now I know I can wear bright colors and still look pretty good. Then we hit the Indian grocery stores - plural. There are a lot of them.

I love the "farm fresh" "Gripe Water".

Fairy soap! The perfect gift for the guys in our lives.

Real sugar jam in mango and passion fruit.

The bags of spices are huge. It takes me over a year to go through my small store of turmeric; this bag would last me at least 5 years.

Betel Nut: surprisingly decorative. I want to put it in a potpourri bowl with some dried coconuts - my friend thought this was a funny impulse.

I love how the "Special Masala" chick is pointing at me. Like, You are SO COOL - Check YOU out! You're buying the SPECIAL Masala! It's an ego boost in a bottle.

Indian sweets. Ok, now I've tried Japanese sweets, and some of them are a little weird. Like green tea flavored caramels (which are actually really good). But Indians, I don't think they get it. Their snacks taste a bit weird to my American taste-buds. However, I will return to this place for further exploration of Indian snack foods.

Does this look like fried chow mein noodles to anyone else?

Thus ends the first Spicemonkey foray into Little India. I'm sure my friend will have comments and reminders of what some of this stuff is, so this post may be edited substantially in the near future. Namaste!

wanderfoodwednesday.

I Call Shotgun Part 5: Carmel and Monterey on foot, if not on toe

On Monday, the last day of our trip, we hobbled out of our hotel early to see the sites of Carmel. Fortunately, Carmel has a very small downtown lined with shops and secret courtyards, perfect for a morning walk – even when one of us was limping due to the aforementioned toe injury. I needed my coffee, so our first stop was the Carmel Coffee Roasters on Ocean Avenue. Every few feet we passed a dog, or two or three dogs, and sometimes a dog brawl accompanied by the owners’ surprised exclamations of “Oh, he’s never done that before!” and “he’s usually so friendly!”. Sure, lady. Little dogs like to get into fights; it’s part of their charm, and it’s also pretty funny to watch. Carmel is a dog-friendly town, so owners tend to understand the occasional snarls emitting from scrappy terriers. We walked down to the dog beach at the end of Ocean Avenue and saw dozens of people with their furry friends braving the cold coastal fog.

I wandered into a posh looking shop, attracted by a colorful dress in the window (my weakness), and was promptly approached by a tense saleswoman who took the coffee out of my hand and set it on the counter. While making the politest of remarks, of course. I wanted to tell her that I wasn’t exactly worried that the remaining 1/8th cup of coffee would find its way onto her $300 dress or the mink and chinchilla coats displayed 4 feet above my head along the wall. But I didn’t. What I really would have liked to explain to this lady is that I am a Santa Barbara girl, no stranger to overpriced “boutiques” like hers, and that I am more intimately familiar with expensive chinchilla fur than she will ever be. Granted, that’s because my grandmother used to raise and kill the adorable little rodents for fur. I would have left that part out. Instead, I left seething over the sheer nerve of the pompous sales-lady. And then I saw a small bottle of “vintage coke” in the neighboring art store’s window with a “SOLD” sign proudly displayed, and just had to laugh at the whole thing. Wealthy communities can be pretty quirky.

Just as I was cultivating a rather negative opinion of the stores in Carmel, Charles and I entered a hat shop down a little corridor off of Ocean Ave. Now, hat shop salespeople are my acid test for whether I warm to a community or not. If they let you try on all the hats you want with nary a glare, then I say they are good people and there is hope for the posh community yet. Harrod’s hat department, incidentally, has remarkably patient and kindly salespeople – even when their exorbitantly expensive hats are being manhandled by brash Americans (not me!). The Carmel Hat Company was a pleasure. The saleswoman obviously loves hats, and encourages patrons to enjoy them also. I’m always on the lookout for the perfect Cloche—but even with stacks of lovely hats, it was not to be found.

On a tip from my friend, the one who got married, we went to the Old Fisherman’s Wharf on Monterey Harbor. I immediately started snapping pictures of a sea lion rolling around in the surf. We walked along the pier, creating a trail that looked like a connect-the-dots route between clam chowder sample tables. And there were a lot of samples, chowder handed out in front of almost every restaurant, each person claiming to have “the best.”

Some were rich, thick and creamy, others were lighter, some had big chunks, some were watery – but they were all hot, which on a cold day by the sea, was delightful. I decided on Domenico’s on the Wharf; their clam chowder was very good (on the heavy, chunky side) and they had a bathroom, which after the coffee and clam chowder, was my top priority.

The restaurant also had a stunning view of the harbor. Sea lions lounged in a pile like puppies just outside the wall of windows, and giant pelicans launched themselves from the roof overhead. My giant clam chowder bread bowl warmed me up and laid a foundation of carbohydrates in my stomach in preparation for a second afternoon of wine tasting in Paso Robles on our drive down South.

Gourmet on the Go - The Burger Bus in Santa Barbara

The novelty of the Kogi Korean BBQ truck has worn off for Angelenos, due in part to a highly publicized PR faux pas. But while Kogi has exhausted its 15 minutes of fame, Twittering foodies might consider turning their tweets towards a Burger Bus.

We’re not talking McD’s, or even the beloved In-n-Out style burgers. We’re talking grass-fed, hormone free beef, on bread from a local bakery with cheese and produce from the local farmers market. They even have falafel for vegetarians and “yam chips” which hold an inexplicable fascination for me.

So, same premise – gourmet food on wheels – but done Santa Barbara style. Yes friends, LA isn’t quite cool enough to come up with a Burger Bus like this. So if you’re tweeting away in Santa Barbara, check this place out: The Burger Bus

Hopefully The Burger Bus people will learn a thing or two from Kogi’s mistakes, or at least take some very good advice from my mother, who always told me “Never say anything you don’t want on the front page of the New York Times.”

Usually I don’t talk about other articles on my blog, but I wouldn’t have known anything about this if it wasn’t for George’s article in the Santa Barbara Independent today – so check that out too.


Ok, now back to writing about Little Tokyo for reals this time.

I call Shotgun! Part 2: Carmel by the Sea and Passionfish

We reached Carmel late on Saturday afternoon with plenty of time to check in at the Wayside Inn (on 7th and Mission St.) before dinner. Researching accommodations flusters me—there are too many options—so my boyfriend gallantly found this place for us. Only a few steps from the shops along Ocean Avenue, the Wayside Inn is a small French country style Bed & Breakfast, and our room was extra Frenchified with chicken toile wallpaper, a fireplace, and balcony. It was also relatively affordable, especially for Memorial Day weekend. Having a complimentary continental breakfast delivered to our door every morning cut down on meal costs, which was almost unfortunate since the breakfast places in Carmel looked really good.

I had dinner reservations at Passionfish in nearby Pacific Grove, which was not only recommended by George, but had Yelp and Chowhound reviews like “this was the best dining experience I’ve ever had in my life.” There were around 25 equally ecstatic reviews, all of which I had read, that sent my expectations sky high.

How to put this delicately…it was ok. I know I’m damning it with faint praise, but when I think of my top five* dining experiences, Passionfish-with all of its good, earth-friendly intentions-doesn’t come close to them. The wine list was extensive and fairly priced, but not cheap. The portions were small, which for me was great since I’m on a diet until Kauai, but one crabcake is a meager appetizer even under those circumstances. It was a very fat and crabby cake, full of seafood and nicely done. I ordered the Moroccan spiced chickpea soup to start, which was an interesting concept, but the flavor quickly became monotonous and the slim film of oil was unappetizing enough for me to put down my spoon halfway through. However, my scallop entrée did have four perfectly cooked melt-in-your-mouth scallops. Understand- nothing was bad. But after having read pages of rapturous reviews, I was expecting fishy Fireworks. I would still recommend it to anyone in the area- the ambience was lovely and the service was impeccable. Passionfish’s location is another undeniable draw: it is surrounded by a charming community of Victorian homes and shops, and the nearby side streets invite evening walks.

Passionfish
701 Lighthouse Avenue, Pacific Grove

*If you’re curious, my top five dining experiences are: Ballard Inn in Ballard, Flemings Steak House in El Segundo, Epiphany in Santa Barbara, and The Summit House in Fullerton. Other contenders are Kemosabe in San Diego, George’s at the Cove and the Marine Room in La Jolla, and Rules restaurant in London.

Anglophile in Little Tokyo: Shojin

When you think about it, Britain and Japan have very similar cultures. Both are hell bent on good manners, are quiet and unobtrusive on the subway, and have a remarkable way of showing stern disapproval without saying a word. Well, at least my college roommate had that skill, and I have thereafter attributed it to all Japanese women. The silent enforcers of law, propriety and cleanliness. If anyone left anything out on the table, that unfortunate person would feel an unmistakable and powerful wrath. Ah, my dear roommate. I miss her. I hope she got the birthday present I sent…

Maybe it’s the season, and maybe it’s all the cherries at the farmers markets, but I am missing Japan. And when I miss a place, I start craving the indigenous cuisine. With England, it was meat pies, bangers and beer. For Japan, it’s Sushi, Okonomi-yaki (which I made the other night), and the Buddhist Vegan food at Shojin, right here in Little Tokyo.
When I went to Tokyo two summers ago, I didn’t have anything like vegan food. I had some very weird food, don’t get me wrong, but I didn’t come across Buddhist Vegan until I was in Downtown LA. Shojin restaurant was trying to spread the word of their recent opening by setting up a stall at the Little Tokyo Farmers Market at City Hall. And as always, I was very receptive to receiving that word—always eager to try things I haven’t seen before. The petite Asian girl manning the counter was trying to ascertain their client base and asked “are you vegan?” Nope. “Are you vegetarian?” Nah-ah. She looked perplexed. I asked her “What would you recommend?” “The Seitan balls [for beginners].” She didn’t say it, and was too polite to show it, but I knew what she was thinking. I was a meat-eating newb.
Every week after that I tried something else, and let me tell you—there are no bounds to what you can do with soy. Tofu is the tip of the Soy-berg. The truth is, I don’t know what the hell is in the food at Shojin. And normally, if I don’t know what’s in it, I stay A-W-A-Y. But the family who runs the restaurant is so earnest about their Buddhist Vegan ethos—a concept that requires some explanation, but for me, pares down to No Crap Added—that I trust them. Everything they make uses healthful oils, whole foods, all organic vegetables, and has no additives or chemicals. These are my kind of people. Even if I’m not vegan, or vegetarian, or Japanese, or Buddhist.

Last night I had dinner at Shojin with my boyfriend and one of our friends - none of us are Vegan/Vegetarian, but all of us are trying to lose weight. My trip to Kauai is coming up in a few weeks, so the deadline to look good in a bikini is looming. We figured Shojin would be a safe choice--and it was, even with delicious creamy curries, a savory fried pumpkin croquette, and barbequed seitan.
But then I had to go ruin it by buying a few cream puffs from Beard Papa's, which actually lived up to all the hype I've been hearing about them. Crisp, not too sweet pastry on the outside, whipped custard on the inside, and so much better than a donut. The best part? I still lost weight. Sweeeet. Shojin
333 S. Alameda St. Suite 310 (Little Tokyo Shopping Center 3F)
Los Angeles, CA 90013

Tel: 213-617-0305

Ghalia Organic Desserts

I am a veteran of many “organic” “healthy” “sugar free” “lowfat” cookies. And I can tell you, on authority, that they taste like prunes and applesauce: also known as Yucky. With a capital “Y”. So imagine my surprise when, mid-bite into a chocolate chip cookie sample, I hear the words “it’s sugar free” applied to my tasty morsel! Ok, it did taste a little different than Toll House, but in a more gourmet way – not like health food. I had to investigate what made this possible, and with a name like “Ghalia Organic Desserts,” I figured the secret was not aspartame.

So, Nosy Parker that I am, I interviewed the owner--and not only discovered the secret of the sugar-free cookie, but learned how Ghalia came to be at my Farmers Markets in Downtown L.A.

The story begins with Khatija Dadabhoy, who had an abhorrence of crap, a yen for cooking, and then…had a daughter. Although she had worked as a school counselor for eleven years, she didn’t want to keep up an emotionally draining career and try to raise her kid at the same time. So, she decided to take the leap and leave her day job.

“I wanted to come up with something I could do for myself, and I was already doing a lot of cooking and making baby food. I didn’t want my daughter to eat all the junk that’s out there, and [the business] grew out of that. Then I got into baking and decided to do one thing and do it well.”

And her daughter’s name? Ghalia. “The business is named after my daughter; she was the reason for me wanting to do something like this. Her name means ‘precious’ which is what I feel about my business also.”

Ghalia Organic Desserts began as just organic versions of normal cookies, cakes and brownies. But Khatija was constantly looking for ways to make her treats more healthful, while maintaining the taste and feel of the original artery-clogging, teeth disintegrating, blood-sugar assaulting recipes. Even when the ingredient isn’t labeled organic, the decision to use it is based on whether it is truly the better alternative. For example, she uses non-organic Earthbalance instead of butter which has heart-healthy oils, including Omega 3s, and is vegan, but tastes and acts just like the “udder” butter. Many of Ghalia Organic desserts are sugar free, gluten free and vegan.

“We’ve done a lot of experimenting over the years to get our recipes just that much better. We use flax and tofu in our vegan brownies as an egg-replacer—we don’t tell people it’s vegan unless they ask. And when they taste them, they don’t care. They love it!”

Since Khatija doesn’t have a store front yet, she is using farmers markets to spread the word and as a way to meet her customers in person. She initially thought that she should keep the vegan/health-nut nature of her desserts on the downlow – “It’s funny, I thought we’d just have people who wanted dessert” – but vegans and other similar species of extremely picky eaters found her out. And now she gets fan mail.

The farmers markets get the word out, but what Khatija specializes in is custom orders. She has a web store and takes orders over the phone for cakes and gifts that are custom made to the client’s preferences. You want low-fat brownies? No problem. Sugar free? Got it right here. Sugar free, gluten free, vegan, and low fat cake? Well Happy Birthday to You, because she can do it. She wants customers to use her website as a jumping off point to create something unique. Prices for gifts start at $25.

And what is the secret to those addictive sugar-free Chocolate Chip Cookies?
Agave to add moisture; coconut/palm sugar to act like brown sugar; and the chocolate chips are sweetened with grain.

Mystery solved.

Ghalia Organic Desserts
Los Angeles, California
telephone: (310) 351.7870

Anglophile in Wien-derland

Every writer should have a coffee shop. One that’s mostly empty, plays music without lyrics, and has big tables over which to spread avalanching piles of notes. Ideally, this coffee shop is in a small country town, owned by people who greet patrons by name. It should have window panes that swirl and sag with age, and French doors through which warm breezes and daisy yellow light pours. Every writer should work in a place like that. No, not as a barista. None of those “Liberal arts major” jokes here.

In downtown L.A., Wien on Wilshire is the closest I’ve come to that ideal. At lunchtime in the middle of the week I am one of two people taking up one of its many large tables. Classical and Opera music drown out the sounds of traffic and the light that manages to blaze a trail through smog, tall buildings and tempered glass may not be honey-hued—but it’s not brown either. An improvement.


The untroubled atmosphere lulls me into a mood for reverie and helps me gain focus at the same time. Or maybe that’s the coffee and mango mousse clarifying my mind. Either way, Wien is an oasis of serenity. A world thinly peopled with Asians who sustain their slight figures on weird Korean/Viennese pastries, like the green pinwheel striped “pea pan” and sweet potato cake. Europe meets Korea meets Alice in Wonderland’s tea party – why does that seem so like Los Angeles?

Wien
1234 Wilshire Blvd. Los Angeles