What's in Your Pantry? -- Desperation Clam Sauce

It's been said before, but looking into a person's pantry is very much like spying on someone's groceries in the checkout line at the supermarket. It can reveal a lot about a person.

Two things that I often wonder about –– What do people cook on a regular basis, especially during the middle of the week, when they're short on time and energy? And when it comes to it, ok, yes, what is in their pantry?

What kind of chocolate is in there? How many types of salt do they have tucked away? Are they tidy and organized or is everything shoved in haphazardly? What kind of oil do they cook with? Is there an amazing ingredient hiding behind the corn starch or curry powder that I need to know about?

When I am desperate and tired, I rifle through my pantry -- ok, it's just a really tall cabinet! -- and look for solutions.

A few nights ago one came in the form of three cans of clams.

Now, I can't promise that you will love this. My sister really doesn't, though she acknowledges its merits. She thinks it's like ham –– we never long for it, but when my mom barbecues a whole ham we are surprised by how happy we are to eat it.

I think A. is pretty ambivalent. He never even comments.

I, however, find this linguine with clam sauce to be very satisfying and incredibly easy. You can make it in your sleep. I always have the ingredients on hand, and the whole dish can be ready in fifteen minutes. Add a salad and you have a fine meal.

All you need are clams, garlic, parsley, butter, thyme, and linguine. I almost always use Snow's brand chopped clams, because they come in clam juice. This way you don't need to bother buying a bottle of the stuff. If you buy clams in water, be sure to spring for the extra bottle of clam juice. It really is essential.

This is not a fancy linguine and clam sauce. These are canned clams, but the garlic and butter combined with the clam juice make for a delicious sauce that bathes the linguine well. Some folks might like to thicken the sauce with flour, but not me. I prefer the brothiness of the unthickened sauce.

And yes, I like to dust the whole thing with parmesan cheese. I can just hear the gasps now.

––Cheese on seafood! A culinary catastrophe!

I say eat what you enjoy!

Linguine with Clam Sauce

1/4 cup butter

1 large clove garlic, finely chopped

3 6.5 ounce cans Snow's chopped clams

1/4 cup chopped parsley

salt and freshly ground black pepper

1 1/2 teaspoons dried thyme leaves

3/4 pound linguine

Bring a large pot of water to boil. Add the linguine and cook until al dente. Drain.

Meanwhile, melt the butter in a saucepan. Add the garlic and cook for one minute over moderate heat. Open the cans of clams and pour in the juice only, stirring.

Add the parsley, salt, pepper, and thyme and simmer for ten minutes. Add the clams and heat through.

Serve the sauce over the linguine. Pass parmesan cheese at the table, if you can stand the humiliation!

Tacos Baja Ensenada

Wednesdays are a very good day to visit East L.A.

The reason –– 99 cent fish tacos!

Mo and I headed over to Whittier Blvd in East Los Angeles midday Wednesday. An ideal time for driving through our congested city. There was no traffic at all –– except for the traffic inside Tacos Baja Ensenada.

Tacos Baja Ensenada is the the Mecca of fish tacos in Los Angeles. Usually very crowded at lunchtime, it was more packed than I had ever seen it. Not surprisingly –– a 99 cent fish taco is quite the deal!

Fortunately, the line moved quickly.

It was not long before we had our order. We each selected a shrimp and fish taco combo, and we shared the ceviche mixto. And, at this point, you should be asking what were they thinking?

Good question.

That ceviche bar always calls out to me, but I've learned it's best to turn a deaf ear. This time the ceviche was no good at all. It may have been the imitation crab, but something tasted wrong –– a little antiseptic or metallic. Either way, this is not what you want your seafood to taste like, especially if it has only been cooked through the chemistry of citrus and salt. We couldn't eat it.

I remember liking the rice and beans in the past, but honestly they are irrelevant. Bland and pointless –– you do not need a combo. Mo really liked the shrimp taco, and so did I, but the star here is definitely the fish taco.

The tacos are bursting with fish, and the fish is fresh and clean-tasting, encased in an ultra-crisp batter. A squirt of lime juice is all you need to add to the crema-cloaked package.

Eat your tacos quickly before everything gets soggy! These are outstanding.

And if you are a crazed chile maniac like me, take a bite of the addictive lightly-roasted yellow chiles after each bite of taco. I adore these chiles! I crave them! They're not too spicy, so you don't have to stop!

Yes, Wednesday is the ticket. Fish tacos and yellow chiles. You don't need to order anything else. You can leave Tacos Baja Ensenada fully sated for about five bucks.

Tacos Baja Ensenada

5385 Whittier Blvd.

Los Angeles, CA 90022

Grilled Halibut with Indian Spices and Yellow Tomatoes

I did not grill the halibut.

David Tanis, in his (recently mentioned) exquisite cookbook, A Platter of Figs and Other Recipes, says this is okay. Feel free to bake it, broil it, or pan-cook it. I threw it in the oven, but look forward to throwing it on the barbeque next time.

For some reason, I have a bit of grill-phobia. I don't know why, but I have trouble summoning up the strength to barbeque. Must be a mental block. I need to wrestle this problem to the ground, because I know I am missing out. Big time.

I've noticed a theme weaving through many of my cooking posts... simplicity. This surprises me a bit. I like more complicated cooking, and used to do a good deal more of it, but these days Fe is taking up even more of my time and energy. I tend to seek out recipes and dishes that don't require quite as much effort. I'm sure that in time this too will begin to change.

In the meantime, this halibut is fantastic. These are spices that I don't typically use when I cook fish. Cumin, coriander, fennel seed, cloves, turmeric, and cayenne. I'm more of a tarragon, chervil, lemon zest, and chives kind of girl when it comes to fish.

I'm thrilled for the change. The subtle heat of the spices is brilliant with the thick, moist flesh of the halibut.

Just be sure that your halibut is very fresh and purchased from a reputable fish monger or grocery store. I gave the new fish wholesaler near our home a shot, and I was very disappointed with the quality of the halibut. That being said, this recipe still managed to shine.

The slivered mint that you scatter over the fish gives a fresh contrast to the fish, as does the yogurt sauce.

The raita-like sauce also carries contrasts within itself. Cool, thick, whole-milk yogurt is refreshing against the warmth of the fish and its spices, but don't let it fool you. It has its own punch from the mustard seeds, garlic, ginger and serrano chile.

I love the sauce. I can't stop spooning it over the fish. Tanis recommends using it as a dressing for cucumber salad. I will certainly try this in the near future. Perfect summer fare.

I halved the recipe, because A. and I were dining alone. We still have enough for another meal. I served the fish with roasted yellow potatoes tossed with green garlic and thyme picked from the garden that Fe and I have been tending, along with steamed brussels sprouts and butter.

(And holy mackerel! I've learned something new. It's brussels not brussel. Yet another embarrassing confession!)

Most of the recipes in A Platter of Figs and Other Recipes serve eight, so I am anxious to use this cookbook to kick-start our summer entertaining. We have fallen far far behind.

Grilled Halibut with Indian Spices and Yellow Tomatoes

2 teaspoons cumin seeds

2 teaspoons coriander seeds

2 teaspoons fennel seeds

6 cloves

1 tablespoon turmeric

1/2 teaspoon cayenne

8 halibut fillets or steaks, about 6 ounces each

salt and pepper

2 tablespoons olive oil

8 yellow tomatoes, cut into small wedges

yogurt sauce (recipe follows)

a handful of mint leaves

In a dry cast-iron pan (or other heavy skillet), toast the cumin, coriander, fennel, and cloves over medium heat until fragrant, about 2 minutes. Transfer to a spice grinder or mortar and grind fine (Note to self: Get another grinder! Cleaning out coffee to make dinner or cleaning out spices to make coffee is a pain in the arse!). Put the ground spices in a small bowl and add the turmeric and cayenne.

Place the halibut on a baking sheet and season with salt and pepper. Drizzle with the olive oil. Sprinkle the spice mixture over the fish, then massage it in. Cover and refrigerate for up to several hours. Bring the fish to room temperature before cooking.

Prepare a fire in a charcoal grill. Grill the halibut over medium coals for 3 minutes per side, until just opaque throughout (the fish can also be cooked under the broiler, baked in a hot oven, or pan-cooked).

Arrange the halibut on a large platter and surround with the yellow tomatoes. Sprinkle the tomatoes lightly with salt. Spoon a little yogurt sauce onto each portion and pass the rest at the table. Sliver the mint leaves with a sharp knife and scatter over the platter.

Yogurt Sauce

3 cups whole-milk yogurt

1 tablespoon olive oil

2 teaspoons mustard seeds

2 teaspoons cumin seeds

3 garlic cloves, finely chopped

2 teaspoons grated ginger

1 serrano chile, finely chopped

salt and pepper

Put the yogurt in a bowl. In a small frying pan, heat the olive oil over a medium flame. Add the mustard and cumin seeds. When the seeds begin to pop, add the garlic and let it sizzle, without browning, about 10 seconds or so.

Scrape the contents of the pan into the yogurt. Stir in the ginger and chile. Season with salt and pepper. The sauce will keep in the fridge for a day or two.

Carrot and Coriander Salad

For Mother's Day my sister Mo gave me A Platter of Figs and Other Recipes by David Tanis.

Tanis works for six months out of the year as head chef at Chez Panisse. He spends the rest of the year in Paris, where he hosts a private dining club.

Lucky dog! He's living at least part of my fantasy life.

The book is gorgeous, and immediately I want to try every recipe. They all seem to be my kind of cooking: seasonal, family-style, simple, and stunningly beautiful.

These are the kind of recipes that will impress your friends and family, but won't keep you away from your friends and family for too long. What pleases me is that I already have all the ingredients I need to make at least a couple of them.

I dive into the recipe for "Carrot and Coriander Salad" straightaway. Tanis is correct when he advises you to use a mandoline or a Benriner to julienne your carrots.

Turns out my Benriner is dull, and thus far too dangerous to use. I make a half-recipe and, given my knife skills are not what they ought to be, it takes me almost 30 minutes to julienne one pound of smallish carrots.

(Ssh. Don't tell anyone. I'm embarrassed!)

After the carrots have been tackled, everything else is a cinch.

You add lots of citrus, plus toasted cumin, coriander, garlic and shallots. Combine that with chopped fresh cilantro and a small blast of heat, and you have a bracing Moroccan salad that is actually good for you. (Figured it was time for something like this, after the carbonara and pot roast!)

Tanis garnishes the salad with green olives. I think this is fine, but not strictly necessary. He sprinkles the cilantro on top, and I mixed mine in. I think you can go either way. I do like and will definitely try his suggestion for a spicier version, adding slivered red onions and jalapeño chiles.

David Tanis' halibut with Indian spices and chilled pink borscht coming soon!

Carrot and Coriander Salad

2 pounds carrots, peeled

salt and pepper

1 large shallot, finely diced

2 garlic cloves, smashed to a paste with a little salt

2 teaspoons cumin seeds, toasted and ground

2 teaspoons coriander seeds, toasted and ground (You can toast and grind the spices together.)

red pepper flakes or cayenne (I used red pepper flakes.)

juice of 1 to 2 lemons

olive oil

limes

good green olives, such Picholine or Lucques (not pitted)

1 bunch cilantro

Julienne the carrots into long slivers, put them in a large bowl, sprinkle lightly with salt, and toss. Add the shallot, garlic, cumin, coriander, red pepper flakes, and lemon juice. Toss well, and let soften a bit.

Add olive oil to coat, then adjust the seasoning with lemon juice, salt, black pepper, and red pepper. Cover and set aside at cool room temperature for up to several hours, or refrigerate and then return to room temperature to serve.

Toss the salad again to distribute the seasoning, and heap on a large platter.

Squeeze a little fresh lime juice over, and garish with green olives. Roughly chop some cilantro and scatter it over the salad. Strew sprigs of cilantro and lime wedges around the salad, if you like.

Summer's Aperitif

The weather is slowly starting to warm up, with summer just around the corner. Why wait to cool your heels? Here's a refreshing way to toast in the new season!

Dolin Vermouth de Chambéry Blanc.

We drink quite a bit of vermouth in our house. Mostly a mix of the red and dry Italians (Cinzano or Martini & Rossi). Half and half is about right with just a splash more red.

It's great with a lemon twist, either on or off the rocks. But just try ordering it in a bar -- Huh?! The bartender will shrug, puzzled.

You'll have to trust me on that.

Lately, I've been fooling around with the French. Dolin makes red, dry, and white ("Blanc" -- also famously known in Italy as Bianco). They have been in production since the 1820's and are the only maker of Vermouth to have earned the Appelation d'Origine for Vermouth.

I've been drinking the Blanc on the rocks with a lemon twist. It is not too sweet, herbaceous, and dry. Apparently made with some fifty-four herbs and plants, Dolin's Blanc has a gorgeous nose.

At 16% alcohol, it's good to have a new drink that is lighter than my usual Jameson Irish Whiskey or my summertime G&Ts.

Cheers!

Bistro Blues Pt. 2: BOOOO-chon

A. took me to dinner at Bouchon Bistro a few weekends ago.

Good news, right? How exciting to finally check out Thomas Keller's Los Angeles venture! S. Irene Virbila of the L.A. Times was all raves.

No doubt I am a huge Thomas Keller fan -- the French Laundry blew my mind back in '99. And I know that Bouchon is not supposed be a French Laundry or a Per Se. But still, I had high hopes.

When I think of Keller, I think excellence. I have read the books about him. And I have read the books by him. He is a perfectionist. So sure, I had high hopes.

So. Well. Hmm...

Not so great.

To begin with the small stuff, the entrance is difficult to find. We needed the kitchen staff to point us in the right direction. The entry is not inviting. There is a lobby with no one in it. And it is not obvious that you are in the right place at all. Where is everyone?

Once you make your way up the stairs, there is a smidgen of life, but it still isn't clear that you have arrived anywhere in particular. The cookbooks on the table are a clue, but when the lady behind the counter has your reservation, frankly you feel relieved.

This is it!

We sat and waited a bit. Then a little bit more. I mentioned to A. that if I didn't have so much confidence in Keller, I would be having reservations myself about the start to our evening.

We were escorted to our seats. Right off the bat, we have the high point of the evening! We were seated at the corner table next to our former governor, Gray Davis. Thin man, looking every bit like a network anchor, but more, well, gray. Now folks, let's face it... that is a rather low high point, indeed.

We were still filled with nervous jitters and anticipation. All the excitement was still ahead of us! The potential to be delighted was all there, and we were ready to be delighted.

So we order cocktails, and when they are slow to come, our lovely server crouches discreetly into the table, says that Bouchon does not operate like this and conveys that they are very sorry. The drinks are on the house.

How thoughtful. She's sweet. And the drinks are fine, though not the stuff of memory, and unfortunately the rest of the evening proceeds in the same vein.

We start with brandade fritters, salmon rillettes, and the special octopus salad.

The fritters are tasty, but sit strangely upon an oven-dried tomato. It's not clear what the relationship between the two is. Compared to the scrumptious and light brandade fritters that we have had twice recently at Lazy Ox, these are bulky and too dense. Perhaps something bright to dip them in or a little herb salad with an acid kick would help.

The salmon rillettes tucked in a little mason jar are delicious. Recalling the evening, this was the standout dish. Using both smoked and fresh salmon is a nice touch. Very rich, but so very good on the crisp toasts.

Appetizer number three, the octopus salad, is forgettable. The octopus is prepared sous-vide. I guess this is innovation, but if so, so what? I find the octopus appetizers at both Osteria Mozza and Lazy Ox to be far superior and the octopus is simply grilled in both. Again, a little more acid would have helped perk up the bean salad. The flavors are too basic, even after running the octopus through the rouille.

What really kills the night though is the interminable wait for the entrees. At least forty-five minutes passes before we catch a glimpse of my duck breast and A.'s leg of lamb.

The server completely forgets that A. has ordered wine. So he starts to eat without the benefit of something to wash down the mealy, almost leathery leg. So disappointing. He makes a crack about Cormac McCarthy's The Road and eating pressed meats out of tins. This lamb really is not good! We would have liked to mention this to our server, but she has vanished. And remains so for a long time.

The duck breast on the other hand is very good. It's cooked to a perfect medium rare, the skin crisp and salty. The tangy citrus and crunchy fennel and radish are a terrific counterpoint to the soft fatty meat.

But we still can't get past the lamb. Or our server's disappearance. By the time she reappears carrying dessert menus -- well after our plates have been cleared, our sighs have been aired, and our email has been checked, several times over -- we just don't care anymore.

Nope, we didn't want dessert. We wanted to leave.

We paid and walked out. No one even noticed us leaving. No good-byes. No thank yous. It was as if we had stopped respirating in this high-ceilinged hotspot at some point mid-appetizers.

A. and I were depressed. The whole drive across town was spent mourning the loss of our evening, our money, and our time. We were shocked. How could Thomas Keller have let us down so badly? How could it have gone so wrong? A. was practicing his curses.

I woke up the next morning in a funk. I could not shake the feelings of regret and disappointment.

I did feel determined to do something. Thomas Keller would want to know about this failure! The good perfectionist would insist on knowing how terribly wrong our evening had gone. I was resolved to tell someone.

I called Bouchon a few days later and attempted to speak to Greg Rowen, the general manager. Away from his desk, I was given his email address. Fool's errand or not, I spent Fe's whole three hour nap one afternoon composing my email to Rowen. And sent it.

That was two weeks ago, and I've heard absolutely nothing from Rowen or Bouchon. Maybe it's the vain expectation of the sort of person who writes letters to the editor -- like a Greenberg writing to Starbucks or something. I had hoped for some kind of acknowledgement or apology. I just assume a certain level of professionalism in a good restaurant. Any level of concern would have been better than to be completely ignored.

Three days ago, I forwarded the email to what I guessed might be Thomas Keller's address at Bouchon. It has not bounced back, but I cannot be sure that Keller will receive it.

Am I crazy? Ah well, there it is.

Please don't rush to Bouchon, just because it might be your hero's restaurant. You may feel gipped. And horribly discouraged.

Bouchon Bistro

235 N. Canon Drive

Beverly Hills, CA 90210

Italian Pot Roast

If you're looking to be comforted, I may have just the recipe for you.

It's the perfect recipe for those of you who are looking to satisfy your slow-cooked beef and pasta craving. For those of you who do not want to put in much effort -- just the time for a long slow simmer -- this goes out to you too.

And lucky us, it is yet another recipe stolen from my mother's repertoire!

We have been eating this Italian pot roast with rigatoni forever. Little wonder: it warms you up when cold, it soothes you when you're down. It can feed a large group if you double it.

A great make-ahead recipe for casual entertaining, it's delicious the first night, and even better the second and third. Very handy indeed.

I love having this dish in my back pocket when I don't know what to cook. The list of ingredients is short. I know it by heart. If I am wandering around the aisles of the market uninspired and lost, I can always turn to this Italian pot roast.

The soft, slow-cooked chuck roast falls apart in a bath of tomatoes and mushrooms. The scent of garlic and rosemary will waft through the house and out the window, watering the mouths of all of your neighbors.

I tend to always serve it with rigatoni. I love the ridges and I love the way the sauce laps into the tubes. That said, I may actually be forced to use penne to finish off the leftovers. Things could be worse.

You are supposed to serve the sauce with the rigatoni as a first course, and then slice the meat and serve it with vegetables as the main course. I never do this. I prefer to eat the meat with the pasta in a soup plate (that's for you, dad!) and to have a garlicky green salad on the side.

For me, freshly grated parmesan cheese and red pepper flakes are a must. For others, maybe just the parm.

Italian Pot Roast

2 tablespoons olive oil

2 large cloves garlic, smashed

salt and pepper

3 pound boneless chuck roast

1 large can whole tomatoes, preferably san marzano

1 bay leaf

2 branches fresh rosemary

1 cup red wine

10 or so mushrooms, sliced

1 pound rigatoni

Heat oil in a large heavy pot. Add garlic, cook until golden, and then remove. Do not let it get too dark, or everything will taste bitter.

Generously salt and pepper the beef all over. Sear on all sides until dark brown.

Lower the flame. Add the tomatoes, bay leaf, rosemary, and wine. Cook for 2-3 hours, until very tender. If it is not tender, keep cooking.

Remove the meat. Add the sliced mushrooms and simmer for 10 minutes.

Meanwhile, cook the rigatoni in a large pot of salted boiling water until al dente.

Either serve the rigatoni with the mushroom and tomato sauce as a first course and the sliced meat as a main, or do as I do and serve both the sliced meat and sauce over the rigatoni.

Serves 6.

Pasta Carbonara

Pasta Carbonara is very likely my favorite pasta dish. With just a little bit of practice, it is a snap to make and the payoff is huge. A great dish to impress a date! Although best when it is chilly, I don't know anyone who would turn it down in the middle of summer.

It pops up on a lot of menus, but so many versions are inauthentic. Who uses cream in Pasta Carbonara?!? Sacrilege.

Traditionally the ingredients include pecorino, guanciale, and raw eggs. There seems to be significant debate about this. Some people even use white wine! Ack!

I do think there is flexibility when it comes to the pork and the cheese. I routinely use parmesan. I have never used guanciale. Sinner!

I'll use pancetta, but am completely satisfied with bacon. And I'll also confess that I like to add red pepper flakes (from Penzey's, preferably) and chopped parsley.

Hilariously, I have just read this quotation in Giuliano Bugialli's Bugialli on Pasta: "Of course, smoked bacon should never be substituted in this dish, since pancetta itself must dominate." See what I mean?

Damani Thomas taught me how to make this dish back at Oswald in Santa Cruz. It has been in my repertoire for about fifteen years. Thank god.

The idea is to combine the hot fat from the olive oil and bacon with the raw eggs to make a creamy emulsion. The hot fat cooks the eggs.

There is a luscious quality to this dish. It is creamy and rich thanks to the eggs, the cheese and the fat. But there is also the garlic kick and the salt of the pork and the heat of the chili that satisfy your most constant cravings. Or mine, anyway.

Pasta Carbonara

1/2 pound or a bit more spaghetti (or linguine if you have recently discovered that this is your favorite pasta, like me)

2 eggs (I figure an egg per person.)

8 or so slices of bacon, chopped into lardons or approximately 1/2 cup pancetta, chopped into lardons (This could vary depending on your love of pork.)

4 or so tablespoons olive oil

1 cup or more grated parmesan

2 or 3 plump cloves of garlic, chopped

1 tablespoon parsley, chopped

red pepper flakes, to taste

salt and pepper

Bring a large pot of water to boil and salt it. Cook the spaghetti until al dente.

Cook bacon in a large sauté pan in olive oil, until browning but not too crisp. Add garlic and stir. Do not let the garlic brown. If necessary remove from heat until pasta is ready.

Meanwhile whisk eggs in a large metal bowl. Mix in cheese, parsley, red pepper flakes, salt and pepper.

Drain spaghetti and add to the pan of bacon. Stir until combined and the spaghetti and oil are hot.

Add the ingredients in the pan to the egg mixture, stirring immediately until well combined and you have arrived upon a creamy sauce. If necessary, stir while holding metal bowl over heat for a minute.

Taste for salt and pepper.

Serve immediately. This cools far too quickly, so hurry up!

Serves 2.

Umami Burger - How Fun, Indeed!

Wednesday is the one day that I have a few hours to myself. I try to use the time wisely, balancing things that must be done with things that might make me feel good. A good companion for the fun portion of Wednesday is my sister, Mo.

And how fun indeed! This Wednesday, we remembered that Umami Burger is in my neck of the woods. To lunch we went.

Shame-faced, I admit that I still had not tried Umami Burger. Everyone has been, and most really love it. For me, it hasn't been for lack of desire, just lack of opportunity. Fe takes up a lot of time!

Mo ordered the Manly Burger, which comes with "smoked salt onion strings" (huh?), bacon lardons and beer-cheddar cheese. She threw in french fries to round it out.

Since Mo is a cheese-hater, I didn't get to sample the beer-cheddar. Too bad. Although on second thought, I'd go back and order it exactly the same way. She nailed it. I think cheese would have added an unnecessary mushiness.

The buns at Umami are very soft and the insides are toasted until they are buttery crisp. You don't want to mess with this virtue. It is a great contrast between the softness of the meat and the bun.

I ordered the Kombu #3, which combines The Hatch Burger and onion rings with a pint of Poleeko Gold Ale. Total cost for the Kombu: $16. That is a brilliant deal.

The Hatch Burger -- with its four kinds of green chiles and house cheese -- was delicious. The cheese and aioli were soft and did cancel out a bit of bun crispness. But really, what a tremendously juicy, all-round excellent burger! I was thrilled.

Even more moving were the onion rings. Amazingly crisp. They are fried in a tempura batter using seltzer, I would guess. The result is a ring that shatters between your teeth. These are so decadent, there is no way you could finish a batch on your own.

I also really loved the ketchup. The recipe is a big time secret. I guessed truffle oil. Apparently that's what everyone says -- incorrectly. There has to be some very slow roasted tomato in it, because the flavor is big and round and rich and not too sweet. I also wonder about mushroom. Very umami intensive, actually.

I'm impressed. I cannot wait to take A.

Umami Burger

4655 Hollywood Blvd.

Hollywood, CA 90027

Bistro Blues Pt 1: Church & State

Our server wants to be a real estate agent.

Fair enough. Everyone has a calling!

My mother-in-law, Dolly, who happens to be in town on this particular weekend, was a hard-working real estate agent for twenty years, and is free with advice. Now an aspiring weaver in Washington State, the real estate industry offered her an occupation, but not a calling.

Our waiter is more conflicted -- he's in a service industry but has no appetite for service.

Dolly and I had stolen away from toddler-tending for a trip Downtown that was to include fabric shopping and lunch. I had wanted a lovely place for us to relax with a glass of wine, and Church & State fit the bill.

Now I hear that there has been a, well, separation at Church & State. Walter Manzke, the original and highly-touted chef, has left as of a few months ago. C0-owner Steve Arroyo was bought out last September.

Maybe this is why I haven't quite understood all the hype around Church & State. We went for dinner with friends to celebrate A's birthday as recently as January. The food was tasty, but the bill racked up quickly, and in the end C&S seemed like just another solid French bistro.

On the one hand, it is a beautifully designed restaurant. I am a sucker for a big open space with exposed brick and wood beams and giant windows. Everyone loves the antique replica Edison light bulbs, seemingly ubiquitous these days, which are strung playfully overhead. And I covet the butcher block where the baguettes make their home. It would look perfect in my kitchen.

But on the other hand, decor alone can't make a restaurant.

It's not just the food either. A marriage of ambiance, cuisine and service are what make a dining experience, and nothing can ruin a perfectly decent meal faster than lousy service.

On this afternoon, our little waiter from Toulouse is a snooty, disinterested grump. He can barely make time for us. He scoffs when I inquire if the steak tartare is big enough for lunch. (Seeing it listed under hors d'oeuvres made me uncertain.) "Well, it comes with a salad and frites!" he snaps.

He does manage to take Dolly's order for the salade au poulet before promptly marching off and leaving me hanging. Over five minutes later he returns for my lunch order and Dolly's wine order. Again, however, I am left with my mouth hanging open mid-sentence waiting to order the Picpoul.

Another five minutes passes before I'm able to capture his attention long enough to order this crisp white. Not surprisingly, my tomato and bacon soup is half-finished before I can ask that he actually serve the wine before my soup is gone.

Almost nothing annoys me more than being served the food before the wine. Disagreeable and grouchy service, though, is one exception.

I freely admit that I'm unforgiving in this regard. I don't care what's going on in the server's life -- I've done crap restaurant work, and we're all on the clock at some point in the day. But when we're off the clock and paying to dine, we are paying for the experience, and hopefully an altogether delightful one.

It is the server's job to facilitate this. And a sourpuss will ruin the affair every time.

At least there's food, right?

The good news is that the food in this case is tasty. Again, not mind-blowing, but as before, it's solid. The tomato and bacon soup announces the smoky flavor of the bacon without drowning out the round richness of the tomato.

The steak tartare, a bistro classic, is a competent rendition. The egg yolk is folded into the chopped hanger steak with a bit of cornichon and shallot. Here I can't help myself, as I am still partial to the steak tartare from my restaurant days -- the egg yolk resting on top and the companion garnishes lined up in tiny hills alongside the beef.

The accompanying crostini are crunchy and convey the meat to your mouth effectively.

To my mind, the aioli is unnecessary, as are the frites. Too much richness.

In the end, we are unable to resist dessert.

Perhaps as a result of Dolly's chitchats with him about his next career moves, our server seems to perk up a touch at this point. He heartily recommends the citrus mousse and the apple crumble. We take his advice.

The mousse is served with a berry granita on top. I dislike the frozen scrabble that infiltrates my creamy citrus mousse.

The vanilla ice cream on top of the crumble suffers from a slight case of freezer burn, but the crumble itself has lots of crunch and the apples manage to hold their bite. Ultimately, though, this dessert is almost cloyingly sweet.

By the time we're finished, our lunch experience, though lacking the same sweetness, has been too much like these desserts: unchecked and uneven, with too much iciness in-between.

I still may return to Church & State if I have other business to attend to in this outlying and industrial neighborhood of Downtown Los Angeles. That's rare enough, though, and I certainly won't rush back. I'd hate to be stuck in that snoozer's section again.

Could it be that quality and attention to service are in decline at Church & State, and I simply missed it in its heyday? Can we get revival?

Church & State

1850 Industrial Street

Los Angeles, CA 90021