Mother Dough

I wouldn't have guessed that the Los Feliz, Silver Lake, Echo Park environs needed another pizza joint. The area seems quite over-run by pizzerias and vegan cafés. But it turns out that I was wrong. What we actually desperately needed was a Neapolitan pizzeria.

As is often the case these days, I am a little late to the game. Mother Dough on Hollywood Boulevard in Los Feliz has been open since last February. I read about it when Jonathan Gold wondered, "am I the last person to discover the pizza at Mother Dough," in August. Well here it is November and I can finally say that I have eaten the Neapolitan goods at Mother Dough.

I'm not sure how I survived without Mother Dough. I want to be eating this kind of pizza in this atmosphere a lot more often. It was so cold out last Saturday night, but inside Mother Dough it was cozy as can be, the lighting warm from exposed filament bulbs and the room glowing from the 850 degree wood-burning oven in the back. I like the spare decor and brick walls.

Mother Dough is a no-reservation kind of place. This tends to get on my nerves, because it's usually impossible to wait around for a table when I'm eating out with Fe. And as Fe. (turning 3 this month!) gets older, it is more and more fun to dine out with him. In any event, we showed up at six o'clock p.m. on Saturday night, just as the restaurant was opening and there was no problem getting a table. Hurrah!

The menu is succinct and focused with only a handful of starters and five pizzas. The place mats offer a rundown of what to expect. Why is the crust charred? How long does it take to cook the pizza in the 850 degree oven (60 seconds!)? Why use only buffalo mozzarella? Why have our pizzas arrived at different times? What is the significance of Mother Dough? Apparently the Mother Dough folks have been asked some of these questions many times.

There were four of us. I was dining with A., Mo., and Fe. We opted to start with the mixed olives, always a nice beginning and a sure-fire hit with Fe. We followed with the burrata salad, which was surprisingly generous. An unruly tangle of arugula dressed in a fairly spicy vinaigrette made a vibrant bed for a hefty portion of exquisite burrata. Typically when I have to share a burrata appetizer, I'm wishing there were fewer people at the table. In this case, there was plenty to go around. Sliced heirloom tomatoes and two crostini rounded out the dish. With more than enough to share, this is a very tasty and satisfying way to begin your meal.

We ordered three of the twelve-inch pizzas. The best way to judge a pizzeria is to sample its Margherita, pizza at its purest. So that was at the top of our order along with a white pie strewn with an abundance of julienned zucchini and fragrant thyme. We couldn't deny ourselves the house-made sausage pizza either.

I'll start by saying that A. was pining for these pizzas the very next night. And just this morning I was ruing the fact that Mother Dough is not open for lunch. I need to get my hands on this pizza again really soon. I'm positively craving it.

These pizzas were extraordinarily good. The crust is chewy with lightly crisp edges and bits of char; the flavor salty and yeasty. The red sauce is pure tomato, acidic and sweet (but not overly so). At first you might actually miss it on the zucchini pie, but you'll recover as you continue to tear into the delicious garlicky and herbaceous ode to summer squash. The trick is to order several pizzas with sauce and perhaps one without. Thus you'll find the perfect balance.

The sausage pizza is also terrific, but for my taste I prefer crumbly mounds to the slices of sausage at Mother Dough. I believe the sausage pie was A.'s favorite, and Fe. kept snatching rounds of it off others' slices. Naughty boy! So there is no denying the success of this choice. I personally was thrilled to have another cheesy and saucy pizza in our midst.

I'll admit that my absolute favorite was the Margherita. It was perfection in its simplicity. Lightly sauced and sparingly topped with buffalo mozzarella and fresh basil leaves, this is the pizza that is calling me back.

I have to tell you that this is not cheap pizza. The pizzas themselves run about fifteen bucks a piece. Our meal as detailed above plus two beers, two glasses of wine and a pop cost approximately $100 before tax and tip. So yeah, not cheap, but I found that our dinner was absolutely worth it. The setting is lovely and the food it turns out is exactly what the neighborhood needed.

Mother Dough

4648 Hollywood Blvd.

Los Angeles, CA 90027

323-644-2885

http://www.motherdoughpizza.com/

Happy Hour at Bar Bouchon

Another escapade with Mo. and Jacqueline.

We twisted (didn't take much) our mother's arm and persuaded her to watch Fe. on a Thursday afternoon, so we could check out the new happy hour at Bar Bouchon. We were so excited to be free and easy that we showed up just fifteen minutes past the 4 p.m. start, itching for a cocktail. We were very nearly the first folks to get happy, and handily we did.

The menu has quite a good number of tasty treats, all priced between four and eight dollars. Oysters on the half shell, pulled-pork sliders, truffled popcorn (perfect salty nibble), assorted olives, grilled cheese sandwiches are all to be had for the asking. We found that it was hard to choose, because all of the selections were so appealing and the prices so reasonable.

There is a red and a white house wine priced at five dollars a glass, an ale on offer for four dollars and their well drinks are seven bucks. The problem for us was that I asked to see the cocktail menu. Big mistake. Once you've read it, you are definitely not going to be interested in well drinks.

Mo. indulged in several Pisco Sours. And I had a slightly bitter Rye-based drink with a hint of cherry, absinthe, and vermouth called Remember the Maine. Pretty good, but my next two (yeah, I know) were much more convincing. Perhaps for the use of my booze of choice, Jameson Irish Whiskey, or its mix of muddled rosemary, orange liqueur, and lemon, the Le Medoc was hands-down a knock-out.

Another problem for us was the huge temptation of tuna tartare on a summer evening. Again we were forced to order off the regular menu. This was not a mistake. I loved the slightly sweet and tart citrus coulis with the clear asian flavors of sesame and soy paired with the pristine tuna and crunchy cucumber.

The tomato and burrata canapés were good, if not inspired, but the pulled pork sliders after just two bites, convinced us to order more. Soft, succulent and just yum.

Bar Bouchon offers a convivial happy hour that I look forward to experiencing again. It's completely reasonable if unlike us, you are able to show even a modicum of restraint.

Good luck with that.

Bar Bouchon

235 N. Canon Drive

Beverly Hills, CA 90210

310-281-5698

Monday-Friday 4-7 p.m.

Chimú -- Peruvian at the Grand Central Market

It's sort of ridiculous, but somehow the time that A. has been away in Greece has been filled with one exuberant food experience after another. I have to stop. I'm way too full.

At the beginning of the week, I was seeking a fun adventure for Mo., Fe. and myself. I wanted to accomplish at least one thing besides just thrilling the pants off of my son. The morning actually came together accidentally, though somewhat brilliantly all the same.

I needed my knives sharpened.

I tend to go to Ross Cutlery. They do a good job, although I'm not certain that they are the very best. If I were a better woman, I would sharpen my knives myself. I have too many knives and too little time, and in the end, the honest truth is that I am far too intimidated by whetstones to even try. If you know what you're doing and would be willing to teach me, please drop me a line!

Ross Cutlery is located in the Bradbury building in downtown Los Angeles. So this was easily the start of our exciting exploit. A gorgeous historical landmark for Mo. to photograph (thanks for sharing these gorgeous black and whites, Mo!), stairs for Fe. to climb and all this conveniently situated across from the Grand Central Market. Sites, smells, and tastes awaited us.

The Grand Central Market actually depresses me a little. There is so much potential for Los Angeles to have a great market like the Naschmarkt in Vienna, the Queen Victoria Market in Melbourne, or the Jean-Talon Market in Montreal, and all we can manage is a whole lot of empty stalls. The produce is not enticing. I'm wary of the butcher. Aside from some good Mexican food, there is nothing of top quality from what I can surmise. In all the discussion of the revitalization of downtown Los Angeles, the renaissance of the Grand Central Market should be at the top of the list. Great cities need great markets.

There is still lots to look at, especially from the eyes of a toddler, so our visit was not a waste. It just left me wishing for lots of money and more time, so that I could spearhead the movement to inject life into our historic, albeit humble marketplace.

One great thing about the Grand Central Market is that it now houses (using the term loosely here, because it's actually in the Market's outdoor courtyard) the new modern-Peruvian restaurant, Chimú. This is an order-at-the-counter, sit-in-the-courtyard or take-the-food-away kind of a place. The food is served in carryout containers with plastic forks, but holy Lima the food tastes like so much more. It's elevated Peruvian cuisine with a forward-thinking flair.

There were three of us (Fe. hardly counts as a whole person, but he's an awfully good excuse to order more food) so we ordered three dishes. Apparently the availability of dishes changes from day to day, so I wasn't able to order the ceviche. Boo. That's usually my favorite part, but we made do all the same. We selected the Pollo alla Brasa, Lomo Saltado, and Chancho. Two classics and then something utterly new.

The Pollo alla Brasa is solidly tasty. The salty brown skin demands immediate attention. It's a tempting cover of crispiness for very moist flesh. The cole slaw is just the way I like it -- not a drop of mayonnaise in sight -- and pleasingly fresh and acidic. I'll confess that I am dead-tired of French fries these days, so I may not be the best judge of the starchy golden blocks that accompanied this dish. We left most behind. The creamy yellow huancaina is a warming sauce comprised of onion, aji peppers, and cheese (probably feta). That along with the spicy herbaceous aji verde (or was it salsa nikkei?) kept us very busy alternating our dips.

Lomo Saltado is a generally winning dish. There is something deeply moving about the perfect mouthful of tomato oozing hot juice, slightly wilted yet crunchy onion, chewy beef and a French fry soggy with meat drippings (this is where I make the big French fry exception). I realize that's a big mouthful, but the magic comes when you've got it all going at once. Trust me.

Chimu's Lomo Saltado is particularly special (many times better than Mario's of which I am a big fan) because the quality of the beef is so fine, and it is cooked so well. There aren't any dry over-cooked morsels that leave your jaw aching from over-chewing. They are juicy and have big beef flavor.

For me the big star of the meal -- and the diet killer -- was the Chancho. It is rich beyond belief, but when is pork belly not? Can't you just imagine the amazing crackle of the skin between your teeth when you see that picture? You could hear it across the street on Angel's Flight!

The pork belly is nestled into a slow-cooked barley and tomato confit mixture that is festively dotted with tiny chunks of feta and giant kernels of corn and equally sizable peas. The belly is also slathered with a divine huacatay (Peruvian black mint) aioli. Do we need this added fat when pools of it are already evident in the barley? Perhaps not, but I certainly wasn't willing to turn it down. There is a satisfying kick to the Chancho, and even if Fe. had been in an eating mood, I wouldn't have offered it to him.

Since Mo. and I had been completely sated, we figured that we should pass a few delights on to Fe. Up Bunker Hill we went on Angel's Flight, and straight to the fountains we headed. It was one drenched little boy and a couple of very happy gals who headed home for a nap.

Chimú

324 S. Hill Street

Los Angeles, CA 90013

213-625-1097

ink.sack -- Michael Voltaggio's Sandwich Joint

For those of us itching for Michael Voltaggio's new Los Angeles restaurant to open, there are not one but two glimmers of hope. The first being that according to rumor Ink will finally open some time in September. Hooray! The second is that to tide you over, you can check out Voltaggio's newly opened sandwich joint, ink.sack.

With great anticipation we went there on Wednesday around half past twelve and there was definitely a little swarm gathered in front of the smallish storefront. Most waiting to order or to pickup. There really isn't much room to eat there, just a bit of counter space, so it's mainly in and out.

I have to say that the menu board certainly adds to the excitement. Which one/s (limit four per person) will I choose? There's something for everyone. Unless you're a vegetarian. Which thankfully I am not. These diminutive sandwiches are meat-centric all the way.

I opted for the banh-mi and the cold fried chicken, and while rather small the fillings are rich and delectable and I could only polish off one and a half sandwiches. I did steal tastes of the luscious CLT, which features one of my all-time favorite things, chicken-liver mousse. The creamy mousse along with the curried chicken skin and perfect slices of juicy summer tomatoes must make this one of the best choices on the menu. I plan to return straightaway to sample everything else on the menu, so I can confirm this for you -- who am I kidding? -- for myself.

The banh-mi was outstanding, showcasing tender pork cheek and pickled vegetables. But the knock-out on this sandwich was the inclusion of the crispy chicharones. Very clever idea, indeed. Even with the greasy chicharones, this sandwich still feels fresh thanks to the vinegary pickled vegetables and fresh cilantro.

The cold fried chicken sandwich was quite tasty, although not as revelatory as the other two. The chicken itself is moist, with a beautiful golden crust. The house made ranch cheese didn't make a strong impression on me, and the lasting feeling was that this sandwich was a tiny bit dry.

And that brings me to the bread. I'm pretty sure that the bread was responsible for any dryness. The bread they are using is completely unspectacular and really just a package for delivering Voltaggio's scrumptious fillings to your mouth. Rita mentioned Subway. Mo. felt the bread didn't detract from the experience, but certainly didn't add to it. I believe that almost any other bread -- be it baguette or squishy store-bought french rolls -- would be an improvement. I can't believe they are baking it themselves, so they ought to simply change purveyors.

You'll also find a tempting selection of house-made snacks, including paper-thin house-made potato chips that crack in your mouth gloriously. Salty and intensely vinegary, these potato chips won me over at the first bite and between you and me, I generally have zero interest in potato chips. There's also bbq pork rinds, watermelon with sriracha and lime (why didn't I pick up some of this), and cookies!

Is it too much to go back across town two days later? Will Fe. want this for lunch today? I've got a mean hankering for the spicy tuna with sriracha mayo and I'm dying to try the José Andres, filled with lots of meats -- serrano ham, chorizo, lomo -- and cheese.

Ink.sack is a smart idea for a little storefront restaurant. Though the place was crowded, the folks running the joint -- Voltaggio included -- are impressively efficient. We didn't wait long to order or to receive are little black sack lunches. The prices are very fair. Some complain the sandwiches are too small, but at four to six bucks a pop, I believe you're getting a great deal.

Plus, it's fun to see Michael Voltaggio hard at work, tattoos very much on display. I've been impatiently awaiting his next big thing ever since A. and I had an exceptional dinner at The Dining Room at the Langham back when Voltaggio was at the helm. Ink.sack is lots of fun and plenty delicious, but sign me up for Ink. Please.

ink.sack

8630 Melrose Avenue #107

Los Angeles, CA

Paris - La Régalade Saint-Honoré

In 2003, my sister and I went to Paris to visit our darling friend Brian, a foodie par-excellence and quite a stellar chef, to boot. We had the most indulgent vacation. Lots and lots of eating. Two pairs of Louis Vuitton shoes! We were high on lights and wine and the scintillating sensation of running wild in one of Europe's most beautiful cities.

The evening to beat all evenings was the one we spent at La Régalade, way out in the 14th arrondissement. I have vivid memories of the older French couples at the table next to us -- who were getting completely sauced -- flirting shamelessly with all of us. The meal was one of the top five meals of my life. The food was exquisite rustic French and I have never experienced such convivial ambiance before or since. I remember hearing Francis Cabrel on the radio in the cab after dinner and dissolving into a happy emotional mess from the sheer satisfaction of the entire experience.

So you can imagine that I was hoping to return to La Régalade. When I went back to Paris in 2005 with A., things didn't pan out. A. was not feeling game and I was sorely disappointed. In 2011, things would be different. We were going to La Régalade.

But then I started reading all the blog entries and the Chowhound posts and I began to feel discouraged. It was no longer Yves Camdeborde's restaurant. Now there were two La Régalade. How would I know which to pick? I mentioned my phone bill to France. No fewer than seven of those $3.25/minute calls were to Les Régalades. I had a miserable time getting through. The connections were always crackly and disjointed at best, and my French was terrible. I think the folks at La Régalade in the 14th, must have hung up on me twice in dispair.

I managed to get through to La Régalade Saint-Honoré and was able to secure a reservation for our Tuesday evening meal. Then the nerves starting kicking in. Would it live up to my expectations? I had read enough positive feedback to have hope. But then I started worrying that A. wouldn't like it, that he would doubt me, that the whole thing would be a flop.

And you know what? Being A., he did doubt me a little bit before we got there. Asking questions, like what makes you think it's going to be any good? My husband is loaded with skepticism. Loaded. But you know what else? When you're dealing with a skeptic like A., there is nothing sweeter than a success.

And that's what we had on the Tuesday night at La Régalade Saint-Honoré. A big fat success. It didn't matter that we were stuck along the wall with all the other Americans (isn't that the worst?), or that the space itself is not nearly as charming and old-school French as the original. It didn't matter a wit, because the service was spot-on and the food was divine.

Just as with my previous experience, the meal began with terrine à volonté and a mason jar of vinegary cornichons and pickled onions. The country-style poultry terrine was a delicious and warm welcome to the evening. I love that style of generosity. It conveys kind hospitality and it is how you would greet friends and loved-ones.

I chose the gambas sautées ail et persil, jambon d'Espagne, risotto crémeux à l'encre de seiche (sautéed shrimp with garlic and parsley, Spanish ham, and risotto with squid ink). A. selected the petite lasagne de légumes confits, mozzarella di buffala, jambon cru et basilic (lasagna of confit vegetables, buffalo mozzarella, raw ham and basil). Honestly, I was thinking to myself that A. was crazy to order Italian food when we had only barely arrived in France, but as is usually the case, he was absolutely right with his selection.

But so was I.

The dish was scattered with toasted garlic slivers. The shrimp were succulent and sweet. So often I can take or leave risotto, and for the most part I have been relatively indifferent to squid ink, but this risotto sung of the sea and salt and was indeed miraculously crémeux. The Spanish ham added a subtle porkiness that enriched the flavor of the dish. I'm searching for the right adjectives and embarrassing terms like heaven-on-Earth are coming to mind. Sorry!

The lasagna that A. ordered was a revelation. Showered in fresh herbs the entire dish had an emerald green flavor. The pasta was nearly transparent, the mozzarella luscious. The pesto and tomato sauce celebrated summer deliciously. This was lasagna, yes, but it was also anything but, in the sense that it transcended lasagna completely.

I'm pretty sure that I managed to order the richest dish on the menu, if not the richest in Paris. The poitrine de cochon fermier moelleuse de chez Ospital, la couenne croustillante, lentilles vertes du Puy cuisinées comme un petit salé (Ospital Farm pork belly with crispy pork rind and lentils du Puy) was a salty and fatty heart-attack in a soup plate. I mean that in a good way.

There was absolutely no way -- even with A.'s help -- that I could finish that massive hunk of pork belly surrounded by froth and crispy nuggets of pork rind. The earthy lentils helped to anchor the dish, yet it was still deathly rich, and entirely perfect. The dish embodied a traditional petit salé, but managed to elevate the pork to an entirely new plane of porcine pleasure.

A. had a hankering for the John Dory, but apparently so had the other patrons that evening. None left. He settled on the pavé de cabillaud de Bretagne demi-sel cuit dans un bouillon de poule, pousses d'épinards ravigotées, pignons de pin et vinaigrette de soja (filet of salt-cooked (not positive exactly what they mean here) cod in chicken bouillon with warmed spinach leaves, pine nuts, and soy vinaigrette).

The presentation was beautiful, lots of vivid green herbs and spinach contrasting white flesh and brick-red oven-roasted tomatoes. The pine-nuts provided a pleasantly subtle crunch. I liked his dish fine, but I'm not wild about cod or about uncooked spinach, so this was not my favorite of the evening.

You may have noticed that I don't often write about desserts. In fact you won't find a single dessert recipe on this blog (something to work towards!). The only time I've had a sweet-tooth was when I was pregnant and for a bit while I was nursing. I've developed an appreciation for sweets, but not much of a craving. That being said, I got cozy -- real cozy -- with desserts in Paris. We indulged almost every single night.

At La Régalade, we consumed more desserts in one night than I normally eat in one month. We ordered the soufflé chaud au Grand Marnier (warm Grand Marnier soufflé) and the fraîcheur de rhubarbe et fraises, fromage blanc et marscarpone à la vanille (rhubarb compote with strawberries, fromage blanc, and vanilla marscarpone). Apparently the chef felt that the soufflé was dragging its feet, so he sent out the petits pots de crème à a vanille gelée de fruits de la passion (vanilla pots de crème with passion fruit gelée). Only thirty seconds later did the souflé arrive. I'll confess with no shame that we ate every drop of all three desserts.

I have never in my life had a soufflé that captures the true meaning of the word soufflé so well. The Grand Marnier soufflé was indeed as light as a breath. Certainly, I've enjoyed soufflés in the past. We used to make the chocolate variety in Santa Cruz, but they were as dense as a pudding compared to this whiff of a dessert.

The other two desserts were all dreamy creaminess. I adore pots de crèmes, be they chocolate, vanilla, pistachio or caramel. These did not disappoint. The vanilla was potent and the bright acidic flavor of the passion fruit was a smart juxtaposition. The textures of cream and gelée also played off of each other superbly.

Rhubarb and strawberry are a classic combination for a reason. Throw in cream and vanilla and then a little crumble over the top for crunch and you've pretty much got my favorite dessert. Another hit!

Add a glass of Armagnac and I was over the moon.

I cannot recommend La Régalade Saint-Honoré enough. Chef Bruno Doucet is doing a swell job. It's definitely not haute-cuisine. Think elevated rustic French and you're in the right ballpark. At 35 euro for the three course prix-fixe, this is without a doubt one of the better deals in Paris. In the end what can I say? A. & I had a thoroughly marvelous time. You shouldn't miss this.

La Régalade

Saint- Honoré

123 rue Saint-Honoré, 75001

1st Arrondissement

Paris

01 42 21 92 40

Berlin Currywurst

A. really wanted to try Berlin Currywurst. I sort of did, though I had doubts.

We had a day to ourselves and part of me really wanted to go to town. I was thinking Aburiya Toranoko. I have a Blackboard Eats coupon burning a hole in my pocket. But the day after a seven course tasting menu with wine pairings at Drago Centro (more later!) is not really the day to go off.

So we popped over to Silver Lake and waited in line for over thirty minutes at Intelligentsia. Do people do this on a regular basis? The coffee is swell, but waiting in line for that long sent me back to clubbing days that I would just as soon forget.

After the caffeine issue was settled, we waltzed over to Berlin Currywurst. Yes, it's true the interior of the tiny spot is lovely and modern. There is just the right balance of bare white wall, black and white photo-murals, brick, and exposed filament light bulbs. Plus, I like the hip wood and metal furniture too.

A. is, generally speaking, a big fan of sausages and hot dogs and while I enjoy them as well my love is more measured. I worry about stomachaches and often I want some vegetables too! Not just french fries.

The menu is simple. Pick a sausage -- pork, beef and pork, pork with paprika and garlic, or perhaps tofu -- and then a heat level. One through four are on offer. I'd read here and there that even the lower levels are hot, so I didn't go all the way. But understanding that I am a bit of a heat fiend, you'll know I had to start at level three.

There is some kind of choice of additional flavors. I didn't manage to get to the bottom of this. Apparently for eighty-nine cents something in the flavor of your wurst experience will be altered.

I personally did not notice a need for alterations. Really not at all. Or not with the currywurst anyway. I opted for the pure pork bratwurst. A. chose the one with paprika. We were both more than a little enthused.

Honestly, I don't think I really understood currywurst. I know Richard Blais did a variation on it during the most recent Top Chef episode, but I was so pissed that Antonia went home and that Mike Isabella was left standing that I had completely forgotten. I was actually expecting a sausage on a bun, even after I had read all the reviews on Yelp. I guess I wasn't concentrating.

Apparently currywurst is not some sort of hybrid German/Indian food. The owner made this clear. It is German food with the addition of curry that British soldiers brought to Germany. Wikipedia informs that a German housewife may be responsible for its invention. Thank goodness for Herta Heuwer!

The sausage is cooked and cut into thick slices and served in a rather addictive sauce of tomato paste and yellow curry. Vinegar and perhaps worcestershire sauce are probably lurking in there too along with some other mystery ingredients. I've read that the owners won't give away the secret recipe. Too bad! On the side is a terrific soft country-style German bread.

Two bites in and I was telling A. that I would most likely be licking the plate clean.

I was perfectly shocked by how much I was loving that lunch. The wurst itself has a satisfying snap to its skin. There are just the right amount of fatty bits within to keep the meat juicy and delicious.

And the sauce was ridiculous. I was easily imagining the development of mad cravings. It balances sweet, spicy and tangy exceptionally well. The charming owner let me sample the fourth level of heat after I told him that I thought I could hack it. It wasn't too bad, especially if you like a little eyelid sweat.

I wish they served beer! This food is made for it.

The only mild negative is the french fries. The idea of topping them with slightly-cooked onions is very good. I have no idea what the other choice of jambalaya topping is like. Next time! Unfortunately the fries themselves are not quite right. Somehow they are oily on the outside but the oil doesn't penetrate far enough inside and the middle of each fry seems a little dry. Hopefully they can sort this problem out, because that is my only complaint.

The food is cheap. It's a five-spot and change for the sausage and bread and unless you are a really big eater, you don't need anything else. Not even the fries. They're just added decadence. It's a great deal and a super addition to the neighborhood.

Our big star spotting at this tiny Silver Lake eatery was none other than snowboarder extraordinaire, Shaun White! I loved his mirrored glasses and tight black and white striped pants. Funny funny.

As I sat at Berlin Currywurst, I could easily imagine a line around the block in the not too distant future. A. was busy imagining a mightily successful franchise.

It's clear that Berlin Currywurst is going places.

Berlin Currywurst

3827 W. Sunset Blvd.

Los Angeles, CA 90026

323-663-1989

Mangiare In Famiglia at Mozza - Tuscan Beef

We did not feel like dying after the Tuscan Beef dinner at Mozza three Fridays ago.

In fact, when I woke up the next morning I was ready to do it all over again. That morning.

They've really nailed it over there. And by they, I mean Chad Colby and his crew. The six course dinner featuring beef in the style of Tuscany was -- of the three Mangiare In Famiglia I have attended, so far -- the best.

The not dying part was actually a really big deal. Because after our Heritage Pork dinner, things were not looking so good for A. and me. We way over did it. Colby has managed to keep the family style dining experience in tact, while reining in the portions. It's a lot harder to gorge yourself like a pig now. You won't be helping yourself to thirds of the second course when all the heaviest fare is yet to come.

And thank goodness. While you might want another crostoni topped with beef tartare, you'll be glad you couldn't go down that path when you're staring at the glorious oxtail on your plate.

The Manzo Toscano (Tuscan beef) dinner at Mozza was exquisite. From the first bite of focaccia to the last slurp of ice cream sundae, we were all besides ourselves.

A. and I had booked the reservation almost two months prior, so there was plenty of time for the anticipation to build. By the week of our dinner, I was racing about my life, positively buzzing with excitement. I knew we would be having a stellar evening.

I had no doubts at all.

If I hadn't had such a wonderful time, my photos might be better. I apologize.

I was tickled when Chad Colby greeted me with a hello and a the last time I saw you, you were eating pig's blood soup. Yep, I bumped into him and Mozza's terrific bespectacled server -- whose name I regrettably don't know -- at Sapp Coffee Shop some months back. That soup is not to be missed.

We were again enthusiastically welcomed with a glass of Prosecco and a wedge of focaccia. That focaccia is exceptional. There was sage and onion, olive, and another round that featured peppers. This chewy, oily, crispy beauty is a must. The good news is that you don't have to sign up for a five or six course meal to enjoy it. You can simply pop into Mozza2Go after 2 p.m. and order a slice.

Don't even wait. Stop over there on the way home tonight. You will not regret it. Even if it takes you an hour out of your way.

The tables were laid with platters of raw baby vegetables and bowls of bagna cauda. Bagna cauda in general -- and this one in particular -- is divine. We joyously dipped the raw beets, butter radishes, baby carrots, slices of fennel, and treviso into the warm bath of garlic, anchovy, olive oil, and butter. I was going nuts over this course. I didn't want to stop. I need to make this at home post-haste.

The first beef course was one of my favorites of the night. Carne Cruda - carciofi e Parmigiano-Reggiano. This was essentially a steak tartare on a lengthy crostoni topped with shaved raw artichoke and Parmigiano-Reggiano. The beef is cut in much thicker chunks than your usual tartare, thus delivering a more interactive experience in the mouth. The beef is doused in olive oil that gushes into your mouth with every bite. The flavor is the most refined essence of beef --raw, minerally -- pure cow.

The Breve Costoletta Alla Griglia with salsa verde is a whole new experience in grilled short ribs. Think Korean barbeque style cut, flat and thin. These ribs are building a reputation of their own, being prominently featured in the December 21st 2010 Dining and Wine section of the New York Times. A kiwi marinade! A porcini rub! The accompanying salsa verde seems to be a standard at these Mangiare In Famiglia. We've happily lapped up the emerald-green condiment at every one so far.

I couldn't help myself. I whispered to a friendly server that perhaps the extra slab at the end of the table was available. He smiled and assured me he'd be right back. And he was, ribs in hand.

The Coda Alla Vaccinara - brasati sedano or braised oxtails served with braised celery was next. Colby reminded us not to forget to try the celery. It's delicious, too, he quipped. These luscious oxtails rested on a heap of braised celery, and the whole affair was showered with a celery leaf garnish. A bowl of the braising liquid was passed around to ladle over. How thoughtful! This was my other favorite of the night.

I have never had oxtails cooked this perfectly. They were impossibly meaty and tender. I am a big fan of celery. The humble vegetable sadly gets very little recognition, but all the naysayers would change their tune after one bite of these supple melting stalks.

At the end of meal, I managed to extract the recipe for the oxtails out of Chad Colby (thank you, Chef!), so stay tuned. There is a mess of oxtails in the refrigerator as we speak.

The final beef course of the evening was Bistecca Fiorentina - fagioli et swiss chard, cippolini al forno. These gigantic porterhouse steaks greeted us from their perch on the cooking island at the start of dinner, challenging us to save room for them.

And we did! Plenty of room for a sliver of New York and a rosette of fillet. And who could say no to the comfortingly soupy beans and swiss chard, and the gorgeous roasted onions with their caramelized edges?

Not I.

When I noticed that Sundaes were the dessert of the evening, I was a little disappointed. I don't really dig dessert all that much to begin with, and ice cream with toppings sort of seemed like a cop-out.

Wrong.

Sundaes for dessert was a dynamite idea. It brought back all the excitement of making them with my grandpa. I felt like a silly kid again. The vanilla, gianduia, and banana gelati were all stand-out. The ultra-salty peanuts and Luxardo maraschino cherries were magic atop a very healthy drizzle of chocolate sauce.

I can't help but sing the praises of the Mangiare In Famiglia. There just isn't a better deal or dining experience to be had in town right now. Strangers seated around the table that night were nearly moved to tears, discussing the virtues of this dining experience. And there's so much more to come. This month features seeds and grains, and April will welcome in the spring harvest. Chad Colby also mentioned a dinner focused on chiles.

Sign me up!

Mozza2Go/Scuola Di Pizza

6610 Melrose Avenue

Los Angeles, CA 90036

323-297-1130