More Regional Mexican & Vietnamese Food in 2006

A Rambling Discourse on the Main Course
People are often confounded when I say that I don't care for Japanese food. Most Japanese restaurant staples—beef teriyaki, shrimp tempura, sukiyaki—are what I ate at home every week of every year for eighteen years, and my father's versions were fresher, tastier, and in most ways superior.

Sushi is was what we ate instead of hotdogs at summer picnics, so it's about as special as Spam. And, I've seen what non-Asians do to sushi and sashimi. It's revolting and a huge waste of money.

What Everyone Else Eats
When I was ten, I remember visiting a friend's house on the north side of Chicago (near Granville station) and tasting Kraft macaroni and cheese for the first time. It was the first time I'd eaten food that originated from a cardboard box. The same went for Jello instant custard with nutmeg. To me both were as exotic as pastilla or boudin noir and seemed so easy to prepare.

Enter my 1960s-vintage feminist sister and her insistence that I learn how to cook for myself ("You should be independent! Don't rely on anyone!"). She taught me basic kitchen craft—how to fry an egg, how to boil pasta—and I took it from there. After a particularly bad clam chowder experience, my parents limited my kitchen privileges to breakfast foods, but that was fine with me.

I left fourth grade, I could make a decent breakfast of fluffy, French-style omelettes, waffles, sausages, and coffee and time everything so it hit the table at the same time.

The Lean Years
As dirt poor film student in LA, I pursued a what a kid from Sacramento might consider a Bohemian lifestyle: living in a roach-infested tenement and surviving on $15 a week in groceries, purchased mostly with Safeway double coupons. This translates into a mostly vegetarian Japanese diet, which I still revert to when I need to lose weight.

When I did have some spare cash, I learned to appreciate the mom and pop restaurants surrounding USC (juicy carne asada burritos at La Barca on Western) and the occasional splurge (buttery, blood-rare 2" thick aged prime New York steaks at The Pantry on Figueroa).

Now that I have the means to eat as I please, I've been able to try new meats, veggies, pastas, soups, and spicings. Indian food and Chinese (as opposed to Chinese-American) food have both been revelatory. And skilled preparations of foods Japanese people traditionally don't eat—chitterlings, organ meats, cheese—have opened up new possibilities in my own kitchen.

Over the past six years, my boss at Siebel has introduced me to a number of regional Chinese dishes. Chinese food is one of the few cuisines that keeps secrets. When you walk into a Chinese restaurant and they hand you an English-only menu, you are most likely seeing half of the actual menu, usually the bad half. If my parents (to whom I had to explain what "tendon" is) knew that my favorite dish is chitterlings, congealed pigs blood, preserved mustard greens, and tofu in a chili sauce...well, they wouldn't.

Likewise, the exuberant fragrance of a perfectly spiced curry is a far cry from the austerity/sterility of Japanese food. Rogan josh, murg makhini, and a juicy tandoori fish all eaten with garlicky nan are my favorites. The most interesting variation on this has been vegetarian foods. Masala dosa and vada fried in ghee are my new weekend snacks.

I hope that answers any questions you may have about why someone would spend so much effort on maintaining an amateur restaurant listing.