Foodie at The Park’s Finest

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A forewarning has been posted on my Facebook page as a comment to advise all my friends and readers to plan accordingly on dining at The Park’s Finest on or before July 8 of this year–otherwise, proceed with extra cult caution–which I’ll expatiate “shortly.”

My friend became completely ebullient to celebrate her birthday at this bewilderingly nondescript Echo Park area.  Its exact intersection of Temple and Edgeware, and its outrageously unassuming, apartment-like white building, 2 stories tall, are the best bets for remembering–just in case the GPS suddenly became the driver’s number one enemy.  In addition, street parking in this area is both a necessity and an awareness because, hey, this isn’t Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills.

This is the biggest clue to find The Park’s Finest

But once discovered, its Southwestern-colored walls, with one side showcasing expressive artwork and another revealing giant, hanging wooden spoon and fork–which is traditional to boast in a Pinoy kitchen–welcomes carnivorous-craving, diet-forgetting guests to only 10 different Filipino fusion foods offered on their menu.

Introducing to a brief history, this brick-and-mortar establishment was once an exclusive catering business since 2009.  Eventually they decided to graduate and gain land, similar to certain foodtrucks’ footsteps in early 2012, but at the same time continue on with their mobile method.

Ahh, those utensils somehow brought nostalgia onto me…


This is it: all what’s available


What’s most spectacular for a party of 8 was that every, single chewable item was ordered for family-style eating.  Besides the requisite fluffy carbs (i.e. rice) some were ordered twice, and the listed prices were unbelievably affordable due to their overall gigantic, sharing-is-caring portions!

Without further ado, here’s the Class of Park’s Finest:


Mama Leah’s Coconut Beef: As hackneyed as it sounds, this creamy comfort truly flutters with home-cooked love from Nanay (which means “mother” in Tagalog).  Tender smoked chuck roll lovingly stewed in such rich coconut “soup” with zesty, dimensional spices, it’s especially similar to a more customary Pinoy dish called Bicol Express.  The spices from Leah, nonetheless, differentiate the traditional counterpart.  If not: Nanay brought nirvana to this at 1st bite, which unfortunately I had to eat less of—to move on to the other 9…




Elote: Made up of sweet kernels, gobs of mayo, and an absurdly yet awesomely handful of shaved parmesan cheese, thankfully they cobbed them out for us.  Were they perfectly tasty all the way: that’s why mayo and cheese were introduced at their finest.  Cue the corniness…



Tri Tip: For something barely fatty for a crusted sirloin steak, they happily accomplished the juiciness, scrumptiousness, and palpable garlicky-ness.  They were further tastier whether dunked in their white, creamy horseradish blend or their vinegary, secret soy sauce, encased in an ordinary red condiment bottle.



Mount Mayon Hot Links: I completely had zero care about my diet in the meantime.  These sliced mixes of smoked sausage and Filipino-named longganisa were totally worth gorging beyond my ideal portion.  Exuding such confident succulence with an assertive tinge of sweet and steady spiciness that people sensitive to chili can tolerate, these doggies, out of all the meats, cannot be ignored on the menu.




Taal Manok (Chicken): Despite the whole name on the menu, I parenthesized the English name for Manok.  Obviously charred, it appropriately hinted out a little smokiness.  The damper on these pieces, however, was its dryness—though it was coming from the light-colored breast.  (Oh, why I did I peck the chest…)




Ligaya Veggie Medley: I may dislike bell peppers in general, no matter what form.  But when I saw the magic word, “squash,” I just had to get half a cupful amount.  What made them delicious as they deserve to be were the sautéed technique and the likewise generosity of garlic to make the medley very friendly. 
 


Shortrib: Don’t let that appellation fool you when executed this as a whole!  They’re nicely crusty, but particularly the center, more meaty section delivered the tenderer and fattier texture.  Be aware, though, that it did not pass the Off-the-Bone test, which is why savoring that middle area was best recommended.  Did I mention this smoky behemoth costs $15?



San Pablo Pulled Pork: If the notable hotness from those links still sounded frightening, but that vinegary soy sauce persistently called, this 16-hour, soft yet finely crispy roast is another heaping recommendation.  I think they’re additionally best eaten with a carb, i.e. their steamed rice, or a toasted bun to bolster as a quintessential sandwich—but only if this one existed in Park’s…


Mount Malindang Pork Ribs & Riblets: One last mentioned when it comes to smoldering ’em sluggishly, the smaller morsels (aka the riblets) were juicier.  Regardless, garlic indeed had gone the distance of impressing this zealot of vampire repellant.
But of course I couldn’t forego discussing about the aforementioned sauces, bifurcated from one another…

The red bottle unveiled the umami side, which I personally favored–taking pride as a savory tooth.  As far as the sweeter, mahogony-colored option, its slightly chunky-looking consistency was quite similar to what Pinoy families would do to their lechon: add lots of shamelessly dubbed All Purpose Sauce–in refrigerated form.

Finally, the one party-sized arrived right on time half-wrapped in banana leaves: what the birthday girl truly wished for…



Behold the ordinary-appearing yet approvingly sensational Cornbread Bibingka from Ann’s.  Whether ordered as a conventional tray or as sit-down serving portion (at $4), this sugar-sprinkled mix of Southern U.S. influences and traditional Filipino could utterly qualify as what common folk perceive in the traditional, layered manner: enhanced in balanced sweetness, superb moisture, sense of coconut milk, and occasional daydreams of savoring this again, and again.  More excitingly, I’d unwrapped with my fork corn kernels amply scattered within.

Secretly, I’d be just as bonkers celebrating my own birthday treat by one piece.
So with all of this garbled out, I should be the person thanking the birthday girl for introducing the attendees this pearl in the rough.  To keep it sheer, illuminating, and durable, however, one must make fine and deliberate judgment on when to visit.  In case the news somehow haven’t spread virally, a few weeks ago (as of this post) the guy known for Triple D (pun intended) and 4 famed actors stopped by, accomplished their eating and interviewing duty, therefore airing the segment on Monday, July 8, 2013.
No matter the foreseen circumstances, don’t sadden Tita Ann and Tita Leah.  They and The Park’s Finest family will certainly welcome you with their garlicky, meaty aroma, into their bahay and happily coax you on the golden dessert.  



How I indulged: buffet-style plate, round one

Overall Grade: B+


The Park’s Finest
1267 W Temple St
Los Angeles, CA 90026
(213) 481-2800
www.theparksfinest.com

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Foodie at Kitchen 4140

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Growing up in U.S.’s finest city, I have easily employed joy and enthusiasm–in this case, noting to those who really know my behaviors–whenever my family or friends and I would leave out of my former Paradise Hills residence to any SD neighborhood, whether it’d be that blue landmark that connects to the Coronado peninsula, or to the then uncrowded outskirts of 4S or Escondido.  One of my unexplored territories, still, happen(ed) to be in the western part of Clairemont; if that name sounds familiar, it is one of the major streets crossing the well-known street called Convoy at Kearny Mesa.

Anyway, in this certain region lies an unassuming restaurant–which I’ll explain soon, hold on–where its front exterior somehow blends with these upholstery and home decor-related businesses, if an explorer is not careful to either look for the color-popping, orange sign indirectly called Kitchen 4140 or the numbered address seems to be too easy to miss.  To add a bit of insult, a driver oblivious to its back, narrowed parking lot might risk some frustration after speeding through an elongated, worm-like road.  How placid could that be?

The Front Entrance of Kitchen 4140


Assuming that the main route would be from the I-5, exiting at Garnet Ave, picture the virtually convoluted intersections like ones from SF’s Castro, LA’s Crescent Heights craziness, or pretty much the freeway exits and entrances where barely 100 feet are covered to change lanes.  The point is, it takes a keen eye and patience just to reach Chef Kurt Metzger’s little Eden.  Once parked at its back, a steadfast blackboard stand gives a much easier direction that it can be at-first noticeable to stumble upon their multifarious garden, which I’m heavily postulating that these were intentional for the restaurant ingredients.

 The Back Entrance

What?! Locally grown blueberries (my favorite playful fruit)!

“Behind” this garden contains 2 main indoor rooms, one that is the bar seating (where I almost sat), and one that exposes a darkened-lit resemblance of how a large, opulent family will have their holiday dinner,with half of the walls surrounded with a countless collection of blackened-coated wines–except that the proud welcome mat distracted me back to the real world.

Wipe your hooves!

The more enjoyable seating option, in such a pulchritudinous Friday afternoon, was to relax under these patio umbrellas colored exactly like its front sign.  I ended up being forced nicely to make friends with the bountiful, salad green garden tabled right next to me.

Hi there, Squash Blossoms!

Handed by my lovely waitress was a gross front-and-back menu consisted of the lunch portion, categorized by the usual appetizers, seafood, and sandwiches.  With the mental assistance of the same server, one that really stood out with my appetite towards something that my fullness could last more than 4 hours turned out to be the Short Rib Sandwich ($16) with hand cut, semi-skinned steak frites.

Now comes the fun part: telling how ambrosial was this picnic-hearing sandwich, albeit the quality pricing.  I find it particularly rare for an impeccably roasted [red bell] pepper bread to be faintly buttery and as flavorful as what were in-between the carbs.  Frankly I thought the beer-braised beef appeared to be quite fearfully dry, until the slowly mouthful bite hugged what mattered most, within: succulent, scrumptiously beefy, and plentifully manly that excellently pulled off its soil-grown accessories.  Making this more wow-packed in complex harmony were the pickled red onions, tangy Asian slaw, and sweet mango chutney that I became suspicious when I singled out some kind of flowery, lavender-like subtlety.  It was, all in all, divine either as is or literally combo with the truffle oil-absorbed fries, plus its house-made ketchup and chive-filled aioli served on the side.

I was trying my best to deliberately save the other cut for leftover dinner, but the “Oh, I’ll walk it off eventually” excuse won this appetizing conquest.  In spite of this unexpected incident, with smile-inducing service and atmosphere at this farm-friendly San Diegan edible gem, if patience–again–best describes a future foodie, I wouldn’t mind enduring the stretchy pathways again, which is closer to the Interstate 5 than it sounds, to pursue into dinner, which offers something like the Morimoto-inspired Angry Duck, or Sunday Brunch hours, which includes that lauded sandwich, the Seafood Kitchen Benedict and Red Velvet Waffles.

Chef Kurt, I’m clapping with my hands up towards the azure sky.  Bravo.

Overall Grade: A!

Kitchen 4140
4140 Morena Blvd. Ste A
San Diego, CA, 92117
(858) 483-4140
http://kitchen4140.com

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Foodie at Confetti Italian Ice & Custard

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Endlessly searching for another cool, frozen treat to mark off your To Eat All Desserts List?  If it weren’t for my friends (via Yelp and Instagram), who proudly possess a more obvious, borderline sickly sweet tooth than the person who is obnoxiously cautious on consuming simple carbs wisely, I frankly wouldn’t have noticed this newcomer partying up at Costa Mesa.

Confetti isn’t exactly kept hidden in a plaza box; its brightly pastel pink hue to enhance the name is a dead giveaway, once you have easily looked for parking.  Upon entering I felt like the similarly toned, soft baby blue stripes on their walls; among the clean, white, vintage-esque seatings; and the dichotomous, checkered floors were reminiscent of what a class ice cream parlor would be discovered on Main Street, what-ever-city-you-are-imagining.

As part of the name reveals, Confetti celebrates with vast, appropriately colorful and vivacious-appearing flavors from their Italian ices, depending upon their availability on their given day, to likely augment with their soft serve frozen custard, along with other sensuous-sounding toppings.

Ranging from $3.25 to $5.50 per serving, depending on size, a desired treat can be ordered as Ice only, Custard [only], or the personally more enjoyable Parfait.  If the latter is the highlight of the mini-bash, over 30 possible Confetti Combos were presented–and I’m pretty certain you can customize your way for your un-birthday.

For this particular day, which happened to point somewhere more or less at 80 degrees Fahrenheit scale, my friend and I called our combo of our choosing, for her (pun intended) sticking to The Big Stick, while the gut (i.e. instincts) had uttered me to crave for the Caramel Apple.

The whopping Big Stick, size small: Cherry & Pineapple Ice with Frozen Vanilla Custard
I took a few samples from my friend’s stick, and dearly did that certainly hit the sweet spot.  If you feel completely nostalgic, like how my friend felt, this combo could be the winning gift.
Caramel Apple, size small: sour apple ice with frozen vanilla custard & luscious caramel dressing
Yet, the more I followed those instincts, the more trusting I have become, hence my immediate devotion to this simplistic marvel.  The flavor of the electric green sour apple was quite invigorating and simply intact: not too sour and thankfully not too sweet.  The same went for the caramel syrup by not going overboard with both quantity and either dichotomous intensity of flavor.  Let me also assure you that I make a fussy criteria on sugar level, and this falls on number 6 on the 0-10 scale (ten for having prodigious amounts of corn syrup).
As far as textures went, the frozen water itself was a little chunkier than typical Italian ice–but definitely different than a quintessential, American shaved ice.  Throughout a colder than room temperature seating in their establishment, though, it didn’t melt that easily.  Speaking of melt, the frozen custard was subtly softer but still attained a thick consistency.  As a result, unless you don’t mind wasting away that $4 “scoop,” I would not literally turn it upside down like how Wendy’s or Dairy Queen have demonstrated their signature frozen treats.
What you see in that anti-sick glass is an illusion!  I’m not talking about the ices.
Still wondering and dazzled about the other 30+ varieties?  One of the friendly staffers can no-question assist you with free nibbles of their colorful ices, but I am warning the readers out there that their hued textures may not be exactly fitting to what you’d encounter directly from the boot-shaped, European country.  Regardless, I think I’d like to party my palette some more by hitting either the Taro Ice or Tiramisu Confetti Combo.  Visit there as frequently as an Annual Passholder at D-Land, and you’ll get a free delight after 10 cups by grabbing their onyx-colored Confetti card.
Plus, there’s another reason to celebrate: they can cater to a well-deserved festivity.
Overall Grade: A-

Confetti Italian Ice & Custard
1175 Baker St.
Ste E-22
Costa Mesa, CA 92626
(714) 545-1175
http://www.facebook.com/confettiice

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Foodie at Tsujita LA Annex

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Initally, I was plotting a revisit to the hippie-feeling love child of Tsujita LA.  At barely 2 weeks old, as of this post, this fledgling, called Tsujita LA Annex, now nests on some former, yellow-walled joint called Miyata Menji.  Boy, we surely need more ramen restaurants in the street lacing through or nearby Little Osaka.

I thought about the “perfect” time to describe this West LA newcomer constantly, at least twice–suspiciously more!–per day since my supremely curious yet planned 1st visit.  But something from their quintessentially comforting soup crawled and then latched stubbornly onto me, and the way to eliminate this creep is to virtually tell the internet world.  Numbers of reasons my typing hands were held back include:

1. Oh, they’re new.  Give them a chance, ‘lil 5-Footer…
2. Weren’t you supposed to experiment on their Miso Ramen after that Tonkotsu attack?
3. My metabolism wasn’t ready for this ramen attack–and I regularly workout by sweating through step aerobics plus weights…

But my mind can’t protect it anymore!  Oh yes, my friends…I succumbed to this gnarly monster of this Tonkotsu Ramen.  As a result, it gives me huge pleasure to state a forewarning before you dare slurp and chug on.  If you must sate the beastly ramen rapture:

1.  Regardless if packed or vacant, come to the Annex starving.
2.  The word “diet” or “calories” should either be tightly squished in the darkest part in the safety box, located somewhere in your brain, or temporarily has no meaning to this dinner.
3.  If you must take those food photos–snap it briskly!!
4.  Remember this: unlike the parent, the Annex brazenly serves NO Tsukemen–but please let me know if they have (finally) included it, because it’s likely to be advantageous to collect more revenue during the entire business hours.
5.  By default their soup contains kotteri broth.  In case the terminology seems more foreign, in Japanese it roughly means “thick,” and you’ll see why in a bit…

Now, onto the scene of attack…

A charming and respectable waiter indirectly led me to the bar where I could observe the open kitchen, revealing their cooking technique of the thickest, straight-ish noodles I’ve devoured thus far.

In front of my seat there revealed the following condiments at convenience, pictured below:

The only two accessories, also pictured below, that I was eager to liberate to my Ramen with Soft Boiled Egg ($9.95 for Regular Size), were thankfully unrestricted, since I was virtually the sole, nonchalant eater occupying this long, wooden table.

 On the right, Onikasu, but on the left is Pressed, Fresh Garlic

More zealously, the Annex freely permits you to add as much of the aforementioned “confetti,” so that 1 scoop would equate Good, 2 scoops mean Great, and 3 scoops (plus) award to Awesome.  According to their “rules,” it was more leaning to the Miso, but when there’s a garlicky opportunity…
Don’t mind if I’m getting Awesome

So that my un-miso [Tonkotsu] ramen as is–at surprisingly a few minutes after I ordered…

Became bombarded to this…

Be honest, what really were you eyeing on 1st:

A. The garlic
B. The Chashu Pork
C. The Onikasu
D. The rim-filled Kotteri broth, simmered for 2.5-day lapse
E. The sprouts

If you answered D–alright, I give you a gold star for immediately thinking alike!

So that was my personal challenge, especially knowing that the broth originated from pork bones suffering so much pressure in the simmering pot that they had forcefully yet nonviolently released the components inside the bone.  If you’ve taken anatomy, you’d certainly be aware that within the marrow is more than just the originator of red blood cells.

If not, and/or you’re not interested in studying the living thing, then watch out for globules, thickness.  Too much hinting?!  It’s spelled f-a-t.

So, thanks to the constantly warm & absurdly luscious liquid, the noodles were amazingly al dente from beginning to end of my dinnertime.  If you’ve eaten Tsukemen at the original locale, those were the exact, thick strands you’ll be facing.  The delicious chashu pork, served in 3-4 handsome pieces for by-the-book regular size, also attained consistent succulence from something that’s clearly winning more calories.  The soft-boiled egg, or ajitama in Japanese, certainly holds honorable trophy for truly being soft-boiled–but it couldn’t earn 1st place if soy sauce were injected fervently.  That red spice I haphazardly sprinkled to my bowl: that was tolerably spicy, but at the same time, I eat spicy like candy.

Come out, runny yolk

I probably lasted way over the time limit of the brain bugging me that I’m stuffed, but here’s the aftermath:

Remember: the weighted ingredients raised the volume of the broth, so do the math…

Seriously, I own the losing title of this diabolical ramen–and I deserved it!  I wasn’t entirely sure about how my tummy should be feeling, but let’s put it in a slightly non-sickening manner: I walked out of the Annex like I’m carrying a foot-sized stone–not a baby–filled with some gelatinous blob.  Minutes and minutes after painstakingly walking through Sawtelle’s block like an embarrassed, waddling penguin with a backpack, I hastily sipped straight-up, iced green tea in the nearest teahouse.  Surprisingly, this plus 2 physiologically normal visits to the unisex restroom treated more than half of the problematic weight.

Closing the case, in case the 5 detailed outlines weren’t ingrained into the semi-long term memory, here’s the brief version that I can easily quiz you on:

1. Starve!
2. What diet?!
3. Hurry, take a picture!
4. No Tsukemen…
5. Kotteri, what’s that mean again?

You have been amiably warned!!!

Grade: C+ (because of the edibles excluding the Kotteri)

Tsujita LA Annex
2050 Sawtelle Blvd
Los Angeles, CA 90025
(310) 231-0222
http://tsujita-la.com/annex.html

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Foodie at EuroAsia

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Fearless to admit, but what underlies this seemingly generic restaurant name–tucked within the city of Encino, CA–other than the fact that’s likely another Asian fusion eat, I thought to myself.

Thanks to Yelp & their own website, I discovered that EuroAsia is, by far and based on their claim, the only So Cal restaurant, whose foods encompass primarily on Uzbek and Russian.  I too was bluntly clueless on what “Uzbek” meant–like I’m playfully accentuating the “ooze” syllable.  That’s until the waiter expatiated to my friends and me that its country, Uzbekistan, is embedded in Central Asia, where it apparently neighbors a country where fictional Borat grew up–maybe that’s not an accurate description, but you know what I mean.

It’s actually hiding in the middle a plaza, so don’t be afraid to lurk through.

Both my friends and I embraced this epicurean adventure, yearning to eat this unfamiliar cuisine for the first time, and relaxed on the exterior.  The menu lists a plethora of dishes that is indeed akin to the usual Asian dishes, such as dumplings and other constituents using dough.  The more pleasant surprise, right after profusely reading the menu, was that the ordered 2 of our 3 plates were served the generous way.

My friend decided to go ooh-and-ahh with the noodly Kavurma Lagman ($13), which were scratch-made, thick and doughy, hand-pulled noodles fried and tossed with dill, chopped green and yellow bell peppers, celery, and chunks of beef.  To be completely straightforward, I am not personally partial with the peppers, slightly sweet meat, celery or the sauce incorporated–let’s put it this way, I’m obliged to eat all of your onions from your burger.  The peerlessly chewy flour noodles, on the other hand, would unleash the voracious carbo-phile in me if I’m not too careful with the carb intake.  One serving of noodles, by the way, is the same size as an “innocuous” tennis ball…

Speaking of the “devil,” and I almost disregarded the initiator: the complimentary Non, their way of spelling of their quintessential bread, which became more addictive once carefully–but not in a pennypinching way–spread their tantalizing, salmon-colored cream cheese.  One of my friends went insanely amorous to lick this “butter” by itself right after her sister and I replied no to her question, “Are you gonna finish?”

Quit staring at me, creamy cheese!

My other friend, the sister, decisively stuck on the Chicken Kiev ($16), which was a skinless, semi-boned, chicken breast butter-coated and completely enveloped in its thick, crusty breading.  This one was the not-so-shareable kind, but the sibling did not mind–for us to grab a few bites.  It was, again, all of our 1st try, but despite the passable juiciness, if this Russian entree could perhaps had more flavorful seasoning, this could be a winner.

However, the non-meaty sides were the controllable stunners: Potato with Garlic & Dill that truly can’t be avoided, and the vibrant, zesty, peppery Salad temporarily and pleasantly helped me fully enjoy my least favorite way of eating vegetables.

The clucker was blurred for a reason.

My choice, lastly, was one of the most highly regarded and regaled dishes for this restaurant.  A facile-looking but exquisitely well thought-of cooking and presentation or rice called the Plov ($13) was tremendously delicious as both an on-spot dinner and leftovers.  Simmered in garlic and other mellowed ingredients, and at the same time sprinkled them with beef and garbanzo beans, memories of curry, sweet carrots, and minuscule seeds persuasively equalled such delectable complexity.  Seriously: this rock-on rice can feed maybe a party of 6, if they learned how to restrain those carbohydrate portions.

Think of Plov as what we Americans call Pilaf

So if stinky tofu, durian, or even liver and onions are rather too adventurous for you, EuroAsia has a far milder alternative to eating something new in your life.  Who knows: this satisfying Asian element with a Russian accent might also snare particular celebrities whose nearest major street happens to be Ventura Boulevard.

Overall Grade: B-

EuroAsia
17209 Ventura Blvd.
Encino, CA 91316
(818) 205-9311
http://www.euroasiaca.com

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