Bun Boy Eats LA
BUN BOY EATS LA

FRIED CHICKEN NIGHT

  • February 10, 2012 9:47 am

1/2 Lard, 1/2 Peanut Oil, touch of bacon grease

Today’s meal is in honor of celebrity chef, Paula Deen and her new found friend, Diabetes.

Never in my life have I made such a high fat, high maintenance meal.

Two days dedicated, in some fashion, to frying some chicken.

It all started at LA’s trendy new organic butchers, Lindy and Grundy.

If you’ve been dying to spend $26 on ONE MEASLY 3 POUND CHICKEN, Lindy and Grundy are the tatted up, Bettie Page lookalikes for you!

Luckily, I needed their services to cut up the chicken into proper frying pieces, so I rationalized that this service normally costs about $20.

I also spent an additional $7 bucks for their lard. It had better be free range, dammit.

I took these high class chicken chunks home and soaked them overnight in a buttermilk, garlic and hot sauce bath.

This step was really worth it, folks.

The next day, I devoted my entire evening to not screwing up this chicken.

I think we ate around 10:30 pm or something, geez! The chicken turned out perfectly, although I might season the flour a bit more next time.

I roasted a head of garlic in the oven for about 40 minutes to squeeze into the mashed pots.

I took the time to push the cooked potatoes through a ricer to make them fluffy. While this did work, I’ll NEVER do it again. How f’ing annoying! Or maybe my ricer thingy is a piece of shit?

Corn sauteed in bacon grease is the only way to go. I used fresh corn off the cob so the kernals didn’t become a soggy mess.

I guess some buttery biscuits or some gravy might have gone well with this meal but didn’t want Guiness Book of World Records contacting me for most calories consumed by a human in 5 minutes (I’m a fast eater) or the police swinging by to circumvent this obvious suicide attempt.

This had better be worth it...

Freshly corn sauteed in BACON FAT. Served with side of BACON. Oh, and BUTTER.

Roasted Garlic, Cheddar and Chive Mashed Potatoes. Proof of aforementioned chive content blatantly placed atop this mound of love.

The finished product. The perfect meal. Not a green thing in sight.

THE SPICE TABLE

  • February 7, 2012 10:35 pm

Kaya Toast (coconut jam on buttered toast, slow cooked egg, soy sauce, white pepper)

It was all about the meat last night at The Spice Table.

Even our creamed kale had a hunk of pork belly dramatically overshadowing the offensive vegetation that sat cowering in the corner of the plate.

That bacon on steroids slapped the shit out of the kale. And it liked it.

Spice Table is fun for more reasons than just watching vegetables get their ass kicked.

Featuring upscale, inventive looks at Singaporean (that sounds wrong) and Vietnamese cuisine, Spice Table offers a number of fiesty, bold items that I would actually order again, such as the delicious Beef Rendang.

Out of everything we ate, the dessert stood out the most. Kaffir lime has a very specific flavor, it can’t be duplicated. The custard had the perfect balance of creamy and sour.

Oh, and the place is a stone’s throw from Skid Row. That’s always fun too.

Especially when you’re looking for parking, gas tank on empty.

And not enough crack to go around. How embarrasing would that be?

Creamed Kale, house made paneer, grilled pork belly

Lamb Belly Satay

Yellowtail (raw with scallions, sesame, chilis, fried ginger, fried shallots)

Beef Rendang (short rib curry with rice, sambal, kaffir lime, peanuts)

Kaffir Lime Custard with Lychee bits (with world's largest sprig of mint)

TARA’S HIMALAYAN CUISINE

  • February 5, 2012 9:48 pm

Momo - Nepalese Dumplings

Tara’s was completely empty upon our arrival.

Red (Tibetan prayer) flag #1

The waiter was irritated by our style of ordering. “So… do you want the ice tea or the beer??” he asked impatiently, when we had quite clearly ordered tea for me and beer for the Bread Guy.

Strike #2

The dumplings came out soggy and greasy. Like they were thrown in cold oil, slow cooked for two hours (til they were the consitency of wet earlobes) and then topped with the remaining oil. Yuck.

We still ate them all.

My Sherpa’s Stew was fantastic, shockingly.

The menu boasted the option to get it with Yak meat.

“No Yak”.

Spoken as if I had completely imagined it, not like they were all out.

The stew reminded me of Japanese ramen soup with spaghetti, fresh cabbage and some random, tasty spices.

I loved it.

It was also oily as hell. I could only finish a third of it.

After our meal, we slipped and slided all the way home as the copius amounts of oils consumed had begun leaking out of our pores.

Sherpa's Stew!

Himalayan Beer. Fresh from an ancient box recently exhumed from someone's flooded basement.

CARNITAS TACOS – CARNITAS TORTILLA SOUP

  • February 2, 2012 9:27 pm

Carnitas! Another crock pot meal. I made fresh guac and salsa to go with it. You're welcome.

I didn’t have a typical high school experience.

I graduated with a class of 16 students.

Most who had, sadly, been there since Kindergarten.

I originally went to King’s West Christian School for the 1st and 2nd grades, escaped to the public school system where I was obliterated, only to race back to the private sector for my 8th through 12th grades.

Needless to say, this was a tiny school. But it was nice to be a big fish in a small, holy pond.

We had no football team, about five basketball players and 3 desperately upbeat cheerleaders, thick calves aplenty.

My first year back was utter hell. I was at an awkward stage (I consider most of my childhood awkward, to say the least) and many of the kids hated me because I was super annoying and weird.

In the 10th grade, our class ballooned to 19 students. Fresh blood. Everyone could finally have a go at dating! No more classroom incest, as everyone had become pretty much blood related at this point.

The four new girls were essentially passed around the entire male population, like an issue of Playboy in a boy’s treehouse.

I dated two of them.

One of them kept her disposable contacts in so long, they sealed themselves to the eyeball and she became legally blind for a bit afterwards. Needless to say, sh was only at our school for one year.

That year, I came into my own, found a sense of humor (on the ground, someone must have left it) and people started to like me.

I joined the drama club and ended up stealing the pretty new girl from the most popular guy in class.

It was one of the best years of my life.

There wasn’t much in the way of security at my school.

Most students were granted two lockers each. None of us had locks on them. In fact, many of us kept our bulky bags and backpacks outside the lockers, sitting vulnerably on the ground!

Here, innocence was as rampant as the boy’s clip-on ties every Wednesday at “Chapel” held in the gymnasium.

My pre-calculus class had four students. We were all forced to sit up front.

I’m not sure how much knowledge I gleaned over the course of the year but I do remember us watching the Muppet Christmas Carol movie and laughing non-stop at the teacher’s witty comments and intense mullet.

I was thrown out of my classes, on occasion, for excessive chatting.

Forced to sit out in the hallway until the period ended. No further consequences, such as principal visits or contacting parents.

I recall an incident where, during a test, this girl and I were sharing hushed giggles that her pen kept malfunctioning and as we both reached to snatch up the cap that had fallen to the floor, we both fell out of our desks (she took her desk with her) and began laughing hysterically. I believe we were also both thrown out.

Another girl (who I’m now close friends with) and I used to pass monumental notes to one another during class. More like abstract essays. Did we use a scrap of paper? No. Over the year, we filled up an entire notebook with random babbling.

I had some serious ADD in school and would destroy all of my textbooks by crinkling every single page beyond recognition. To the point where they could no longer close properly.

In Science class I spilled hydrochloric acid on this pretentious guy’s leather jacket. I recall his shrieks (and his hair not moving due to his egregious use of gel) as he darted from the room in hopes of washing it off.

Our English teacher was thin and wispy (she always reminded me of a cancer patient) and would wrap me on the head with a pencil when I was being irritating. I probably have a permanent indentation.

I think every single teacher had horrific coffee breath. Then again, I think its like that at every school.

I enjoyed a friendly feud with my eventual good friend Jessica.

Jessica tormented me and I tormented her.

We would spend the entire bus ride finding new and colorful ways of insulting one another.

Jessica was….big boned. “…But she has a pretty face…”

On TWO occasions I pulled the chair out from under her, both resulting in dire consequences for me.

One time was in science class. Deadly silent. She was returning from a bathroom visit.

Only pencil scribbles could be heard.

She made it TOO easy for me. She would take FOREVER to sit down.

She was begging for some tomfoolery.

After the thud heard round the world hit, I was kicked out of class.

Even the class clown leaned over to me as I collected my things “Dude, that wasn’t cool”.

To be honest, I felt awful.

Until the next time.

We were studying in the library and I couldn’t help myself. This time she fell back and…uh…sort of hit her head on a bookshelf.

What an asshole I was!

It was the last awful thing I did in high school.

After that, we became the best of friends…with one eye always open.

High school was such a casual environment and, although I made it seem like I was always getting into trouble, I always got good grades and pretty much became an angel by my senior year.

Anyone getting consistent C’s or below was asked to leave.

The students were mostly overachievers, mostly white and so easy to poke fun of.

Most of my graduating class were virgins. Most of us had never had a drink, had never done a drug.

(All three applied to me).

However, we were the weirdest bunch of academic 1%’ers you ever did meet and I was really lucky to experience such special, privileged and innocent teenage years.

Which in no way prepared me for the real world.

Whole Foods Pork Butt - Only $39.99 an Ounce

What to do with leftover Carnitas? Throw it in some soup! If you're fancy (I was) fry up some tortilla strips!

IL COVO

  • January 31, 2012 9:21 pm

The Back Patio. Sit in this section or just go home.

DineLA Week is a tricky SOB.

You think you’re getting a deal.

You get excited, make several reservations to snooty places and then end up spending the same, if not more, money than if it was any other week.

In a word, you’re dumb.

I added it up, in some cases (such as with Il Covo) you get about $10 off. You’re basically getting a free dessert. Which I do appreciate, not trying to sound like a cheapskate here.

However, if you’re broke ass is shelling out loot you don’t have for a $10 savings and then ends up ordering an extra drink, it doesn’t really make much sense, now does it?

All that being said, I LOVE Il Covo.

Super cute (romantic even), very friendly, great food. All the usual traits of a solid restaurant.

All THAT being said, DineLA has successfully raped my wallet and partially filled my belly. Welcome to the LA food scene.

Burrata alla Caprese with Heirloom Cherry Tomatoes

Octopus Carpaccio with Celery, Radish, Olives

Porchetta and Mustard Crostini

Tagliatelle Bolognese with Braised Beef and Parmigiano

Jidori Brick Chicken with Broccoli Rabe and Polenta

Meyer Lemon Cannoli with Maraschino Cherries

Nutella Crostata with Salt and Vanilla Gelato

BELLA PITA

  • January 31, 2012 12:58 am

Falafel Pita

After eating my share of falafel, hummus and schwarmas in Israel, I didn’t think I would be eating Mediterranean food so soon. I’ve already had it twice since I’ve been back. It took me over a year to eat Indian again!

I escaped work for a quick lunch with some of my coworkers at a tiny hut on Westwood Blvd. You’d miss it if you blinked. So, don’t blink, idiot.

The five of us took over the place by taking the middle table, sorry the only table, there.

I had originally been craving a falafel until I layed my eyes on something called the “Wowshi”.

Fun name! Like a Sham-Wow or some other infomercial product being sold by an overly excited man (recently arrested for assaulting a prostitute) unnecessarily wearing a non-working headset.

It’s basically a Middle Eastern Calzone, a baked schwarma if you will. And you will. Idiot.

What sets this place apart is the do-it-yourself sauce bar!

Hummus in a squeeze bottle for the taking?? Yes!

Something called a “white sauce”?? Yes!

I mixed this mysterious sauce with sauces marked “herb sauce” and “spicy sauce” and made a heavenly combo.

But first, enjoy some fries.

All you can eat/drink sauces/hummus!

Making of the Wowshi

Merguez Wowshi - A Wowshi is like a Mediterranean Calzone. Didn't I already say that? Idiot.

A-FRAME

  • January 30, 2012 12:34 am

The Kitchen Fries were thick, crispy wedges of various potatoes (purple, sweet) with a tasty kimchi sour cream dipping sauce. They also look like mini painted tree trunks on their way to becoming a campfire

A-Frame is a place that Hollywood would ruin with douchebags/tourists and Silverlake would ruin with skinny jeans.

Located in a hollowed out, Brady Bunch shaped building (perhaps originally an IHOP), the vibe is bustling, noisy and fun. Equally a place to just grab drinks or enjoy some creative grub to share with strangers (or both).

That’s the one catch (perhaps down a drink before being seated to soften the blow) if you’re not a fan of communal seating, prepare to put up a wall of discontent as you nestle nice and cozy next to “friends you haven’t met yet”.

Luckily, we were in a festive mood and had no problem sharing our space and, besides, they turn up the music loud enough that conversations are not easily overheard (trust me, I tried).

Chef Roy Choi, famous for starting LA’s first majorly successful food truck (Kogi BBQ) and named Best New Chef by Food and Wine in 2010, is a tatted up bad ass who’s main objective is un-pretentious, creative Southeast Asian takes on some classic dishes.

A modern picnic, the website declares.

Pretty much everything we shoved down our gullets was delectable.

The Brussel Sprouts were coated in liquid heaven (bacon, apples).

The Beer Can Chicken had super crispy skin and moist meat underneath. Like a Florida Retiree.

My Warm Cornbread and Chicken Salad with pickled onions seemed like an odd combo but totally worked and was like enjoying Thanksgiving leftovers.

Deep fried pound cake churros with a bowl of vanilla ice cream swimming in a malted chocolate milk bath to dip them in.

However, the star of the show was the dessert, aptly titled “Chu Don’t Know Mang”. Have an elderly dining companion place the order and enjoy their verbalization.

It’s like they have someone in the back who’s sole job it is to fry those delicious sticks repeatedly, robotically, until someone places an order. Then rolling those sticks up a cinnamon sugar hill over and over like Sisyphus, the condemned Greek king.

I’m guessing he’s not exactly there of his own free will. And I’m almost positive a ball gag is involved, not sure why.

SALT’S CURE

  • January 27, 2012 11:20 am

Broccoli and Cheddar Quiche

Salt’s Cure opened up a few blocks from me about a year ago. I think just knowing it was so close bumped it further down my restaurant list.

I’m a lazy muthafather.

But when Sonigram suggested we check it out for brunch, I figured why the hell not.

Brunch usually doesn’t appeal to me. Brunch means 11 o’clock.

Do you know how many meals I’ve consumed and errands I’ve run by then??

I need to eat as soon as I wake up, people.

Brunch was invented to cure hangovers. There’s a reason everyone is eating so late and wearing sunglasses.

Salt’s Cure (they cure their own meats!) is a simple, quaint, neighborhoody spot with a tiny, somewhat random menu.

They have some traditional morning fare such as quiche (very light and fluffy), pork chops and eggs (perfectly seasoned but a bit fatty) but then also offer burgers and a cheese plate (didn’t order them, I’m not a pig!)

California Brick Toast - Like a sweet cornbread

They hand grind their coffee beans

STRAWBERRY 7-UP CAKE

  • January 25, 2012 6:46 pm

I was feeling retro trashy today and made this super easy cake using 7-up, strawberry jello and the cheapest strawberry cake mix I could find. Delish!

Before I made my big move to Seattle, I had a few options for work there.

My friend, SnakeFace, was working at Blockbuster Music and offered to get me a job there.

Trouble was, the pay would barely afford me my new Seattle apartment (preferably in the illustrious Queen Anne neighborhood) and I would essentially be broke for God knows how long.

Luckily, I didn’t have to worry as my friend was shortly fired.

She was an expert thief and would stuff her backpack full of stolen CDs to later sell at a rival music store.

She did this on many occasions.

She would sell her CDs to get me money to take the ferry back home from Seattle when I would visit her.

She would sell her CDs when we needed a late night Jack in the Box dinner.

Problem was, as she was leaving Blockbuster for the day, she forgot to take the security tag off of one of them and set off the alarm.

She spun a gossamer thin explanation to her boss who let her keep the CDs but kindly asked she not return to work.

My friend Nancy was working at a fresh pasta deli and managed to get me a job selling pretentious Spanish olive oils, Morrocan tagines, overpriced French chickens and some pretty tasty fresh Italian foodstuffs.

I’ll go more into that job in another post, but I eventually got greedy and wanted to get a second job. My friend at the pasta shop told me about her second job. Data Entry.

I didn’t really realize what this meant. All I saw were dollar signs (they paid $10 an hour) as they were paying more than my pasta job.

I have never been more bored in my entire life.

The job was at a cancer research center, entering data for a prostate cancer drug trial.

All I did, all day long, was transcribe written words such as “heavy stream” or “constipation”, which popped up on thousands of patient’s reports, from one screen to the other screen.

My brain went to sleep 8 hours a day.

I began to surf the web to alleviate the boredom. I surfed a LOT.

I downloaded songs illegally from Napster. I downloaded a LOT.

One day my boss came in, sat down, and showed me a progress report of my work.

I was averaging about 40 hours of actual work on the transcribing computer program. 40 hours A MONTH.

She said she realized this type of work was dreadfully boring and that taking multiple breaks was expected.

But perhaps a few more hours spent actually working might be recommended.

I only lasted nine months before I packed up everything I owned in my car and drove to LA.

Never having set foot there before.

EVA RESTAURANT

  • January 24, 2012 8:14 pm

Schaner Farm Duck Egg, Potato Mousseline, Reduced Chicken Jus

Eva is probably the smallest restaurant in Los Angeles.

It’s adorable.

Like a puppy.

A puppy that takes over 20 minutes to bring you your drink.

Our waiter appeared to be the only one servicing the entire restaurant although there were plenty of eager bus boys.

All that being said, the food was excellent. While I bitched and moaned a bit about the price and subsequent size of the egg dish above (they ended up charging us less on the bill) the Chicken Milanese was simple and fantastic.

Pounded flat within an inch of its life, the chicken was perfectly breaded with just a touch of lemon and capers.

The best part was getting 30% off our meal due to some deal we got on OpenTable.

It more than made up for finding the adorable cockroach in the bathroom.

Chicken Milanese with Roasted Green Zucchini, Lemon, Capers & Garlic

Butterscotch Budino with Toasted Hazelnuts