val

 

smoked meat
Schwartz’s Montreal Hebrew Delicatessen
Montréal, Québec, Canada

The moist and meaty smoked meat sandwich at Schwartz’sThe moist and meaty smoked meat sandwich at Schwartz’s

Canadian popular culture has been fraught with conundrums throughout the decades – friendly debates that quickly escalate from checking to high-sticking such as who was a better player, Jean Béliveau or Wayne Gretzky; which band deserved the title, Rush or Mahogany Rush; and, who in Montréal makes the best smoked meat sandwich.  One sure way to start a way to melee bigger than a knock-down, drag-out outside Peel Pub is to ask someone where to find the best Montréal smoked meat (unless you’re on 7th Avenue in Manhattan) – if you’re in the capital of pastrami’s arch-rival, you need only refer to it as smoked meat (or, for more points, viande fumée). Smoked meat typically starts by curing (brining) a whole beef brisket with special spices, unique blends that most purveyors will take to their graves with them. The saline soak can take anywhere from several days to a week, after which time it may be soaked with a second application of spices. The cut gets its designation from the smoking process which changes the outside coloration of the meat to somewhere in the range between dark brown and black (although according to Montréal chef David McMillan, a great deal of it isn’t even smoked any more); it is usually steamed to finish cooking and to keep the meat hot for slicing. There are several preparations (including on poutine), but the most sought-after and competitive production method is the smoked meat sandwich.

How much is that smoked meat in the window?How much is that smoked meat in the window?

A traditional smoked meat sandwich is stacked with hand-cut meat that crumbles at the cut end into little bits on the plate. The substrate of choice is rye bread, with the variety often referred to as Montréal rye typically being bereft of caraway seeds. While some delis will ask if you want mustard, it is an assumed condiment and usually arrives at the table slathered on the top piece of bread. Bone up on your smoked meat jargon so when your waiter asks how you want your meat you can be specific – you’ll generally catch the hang of this as you see sandwiches arriving at the nearby tables with a wide variety of fat content and inside color. Since the whole brisket is used, there are different sections that have their own endearing qualities – the plate (also called the flat, or first cut, typically the section used to make pastrami) the point and deckle (or second cut). If you’re looking for a healthy choice, you shouldn’t be here in the first place, but asking for the ends will provide you with a sandwich where the lean, darker meat is more thoroughly cooked, as well as derisive looks from those around you. The standard method (and cut usually recommended by your wait staff when you leave the recommendation for your selection in their capable hands) is medium, with a nice balance of fat and meat and generally considered to have the best taste. On the far end of the spectrum you can ask for the fat cut, which will sport glistening globs of beef fat throughout, a rich and powerful mouthful if that’s the way you swing.

The line outside Montréal's Schwartz’s Montreal Hebrew DelicatessenThe line outside Montréal's Schwartz’s Montreal Hebrew Delicatessen

As with delis in the United States, the pickle is your friend, with the nuked cukes generally trending towards sour; French fries are the side dish of choice but in the established and obviously non-Kosher joints you may want to consider going all-Québec and junk and ordering poutine on the side. There’s relatively little difference in the presentation, so the hardest choice is which deli to hit. In my younger days, I frequented the spot that is said to have brought the dish to Montréal in the first place, Ben’s De Luxe Delicatessen & Restaurant; sadly, the house that Ben Kravitz built in the first decade of the last century folded after a nearly 100-year run. Asking a Montréaler where the best place to get your smoked meat on will get you a variety of answers based on their personal favorite, although most will point you towards last man standing, Schwartz’s Montreal Hebrew Delicatessen. Schwartz’s still stands at the original location established by founder and Romanian immigrant Reuben Schwartz in 1928; although it looks like it has been modernized, it appears the improvements may have been installed in the 1960s. You can’t miss the narrow, cramped deli – the line out front is a dead giveaway. Like most of the other purveyors of smoked meat, Schwartz’s wears their heart on their sleeve (or rather displays their meat in the front window, an act one would expect on St. Catherine Street). It is assumed that you’ll want to window shop before queuing up for your smoked meat fix. Main Deli Steak House (directly across the street) never seems to have a line, and although you’ll undoubtedly get a quality sandwich there without having to sit elbow-to-elbow at a community table after an hour wait, Schwartz’s is the smoked meat destination. Locals will talk to you in line and tell you that there’s better to be had in Montréal, but if your time in the city is limited, you’re in the right place.

Tight quarters for Montréal's most popular smoked meat sandwichTight quarters for Montréal's most popular smoked meat sandwich

The menu is rather limited; you shouldn’t expect the kind of dishes you’d find at the Carnegie, 2nd Avenue Deli or Katz’s, but then that’s not why you’re here, is it? The atmosphere is similar to Washington D.C.’s boisterous, crowded and florescent-lit Ben’s Chili Bowl, and like Ben’s, you stood out in -1° cold for an hour, packed in like a pickled herring for the privilege of polishing off what can arguably described as Montréal’s signature dish. The sandwich is diminutive in comparison to New York skyscraper sandwiches, but the piquant and savory stack is satisfying in every way. If you asked for a medium, you can look forward to slightly briny, thick irregular slabs of meat that break apart with each bite; gone is the sometimes offensive odor of anise (incidentally if you’re that way inclined) in the bread, and present is the spicy bouquet of the moist and flavorful meat, cut with the liberal application of the mustard. I make no recommendations for any of the other sandwiches on the menu – save that for your next trip to New York. Schwartz’s is open relatively late (until around midnight), but if the smoked meat sandwich didn’t fill that void in the deep, dark recesses of your digestive tract, you can always head on over to Gibeau Orange Julep for something tasty to wash it down.

Smoked meat sandwiches are a source of pride for Montréal and the restaurants and delis that make them, and trying to choose which to enjoy can be as competitive as the contest for Lord Stanley’s cup. Whether you enjoy Schwartz’s or one of the nearly 100 delis in Montréal competing for your business, make it a point to savor a smoked meat sandwich on your next visit to Montréal… then you can get the puck out of here.

Schwartz’s Montreal Hebrew Delicatessen
3895 Boulevard Saint-Laurent
Montréal, QC H2W 1L
GPS Coordinates:  45°30’58.61″N 73°34’39.75″W

GALLERY: See images from Val’s visit to Schwartz’s Montreal Hebrew Delicatessen in Montréal, Quebec, Canada

 

Joe Beef
Montréal, Québec, Canada

The original restaurant with chalkboard menuThe original restaurant with chalkboard menu

Charles McKiernan was an Irish immigrant of near mythical stature who in the late 1800s opened a tavern in his adopted city of Montréal with the unusual moniker of Joe Beef’s (a nickname given to him while serving in the British army). In addition to maintaining a menagerie of wild animals in his establishment to the amusement of his patrons, McKiernan never refused service to anyone, regardless of their station in life; his pub was known as a place where the workingman could quaff a pint and enjoy a bite (preferably not from one of the wild cats he kept on the premises). In 2005, Chefs David McMillan and Frédéric Morin partnered with Allison Cunningham to open Joe Beef, a gastropub in the Petite Bourgogne (Little Burgundy) section of Montréal as a nod to McKiernan, offering a cornucopia of dishes inspired by traditional local cuisine and presented in a boisterous but casual environment. After several years they had opened luncheonette and wine bar McKiernan in the adjacent property, but after Joe Beef’s popularity skyrocketed to where it was booked to capacity a month in advance, the trio opted to expand Joe Beef into the space.

The humble front of Montréal's Joe BeefThe humble front of Montréal's Joe Beef

Today McMillan and company find themselves in the same predicament – after visits from a slew of food writers and media personalities including the Travel Channel’s dynamic duo of Anthony Bourdain and Andrew Zimmern and with the runaway popularity of the 2012 James Beard award-nominated book “The Art of Living According to Joe Beef: A Cookbook of Sorts”, they once again find themselves with reservations booked solid for a month and a half. Chef McMillan finds this to be a blessing and a curse – with no immediate plans to expand the Joe Beef name into an empire, he regrets that in addition to turning away customers who have become regulars over the years, they can’t even squeeze relatives of the staff into the tight quarters. McMillan has a deep appreciation for the locals who have faithfully returned on a regular basis to savor dishes from the ever-changing menu, a pick list that changes so frequently based on availability of ingredients and the whimsical imagination of the chefs that it is written on a blackboard daily. Although there are some favorite dishes that remain relatively unchanged, others transmogrify into variations on a theme. What appears on the menu one day as Pojarsky de veau (a traditional Russian dish featuring a veal meatball fried in butter) may on another occasion be made with sturgeon (an odd sight with what looks like a pork rib bone sticking out of it).  Savory disks of pressed and grilled veal face with sauce charcutière have been shelved and brought back several times due to popular demand.

Joe Beef's signature dish, the Foie Gras Double DownJoe Beef's signature dish, the Foie Gras Double Down

Chef McMillan loves the history and culture of Québec province, specifically its cuisine; he laments the fact that young, up-and-coming chefs study abroad and then return to their homelands prepared to turn traditional fare on its ear. As an example he imagines the reaction of a food adventurer who fulfills his lifelong dream to visit the Burgundy region of France to partake in the legendary cuisine, only to encounter a rock star chef having studied at a culinary school in New York who was so impressed with Thai cooking that the dishes now feature ginger, coconut milk and lemon grass. While McMillan has become the poster child for Montréal’s culinary culture, he also shows a great deal of humility, quick to recommend visits to other establishments representative of the local fare.  Having been initially directed to Joe Beef to try the foie gras poutine, McMillan explained to me that his signature dish is the decadent and near ominous-sounding Foie Gras Double Down (a foil-wrapped, generous slab of maple-drunk smoked Cheddar and bacon with “chicken skin mayonnaise” sandwiched between two hefty cakes of deep-fried foie gras); he is quick to point out that foie gras poutine is the specialty of the house at legendary Chef Martin Picard’s Au Pied de Cochon, a restaurant that McMillan insists no visit to Montréal should be without. Extolling Chef Picard’s prowess, the topic of Québec’s cabane à sucre (maple sugar shack) culture comes up and Chef McMillan asks if I’ve seen Picard’s book, “Au Pied de Cochon Sugar Shack” which he has one of the staff fetch from nearby. He opens to a page that features a beautiful, full-color glossy photo of one of Chef Picard’s dishes from his sugar shack – a black squirrel on a plank, gutted and stripped of its fur except for the head, feet and tail and served as sushi, an image that is both enticing and horrific simultaneously.

The ultra-popular lobster spaghetti (Spaghett Homard-Lobster)The ultra-popular lobster spaghetti (Spaghett Homard-Lobster)

Once McMillan gets started on regional cuisine, the conversation has my rapt attention as he touts the charcuterie at Restaurant DNA, then changes course to recommend trying guédille (a vegetable-laden hot dog in a bun sans hot dog) and a variety of poutines including poutine Dulton (made with ground beef, onions, and sometimes sausage), Michigan poutine (featuring sliced hot dogs), and the turkey-laced poutine Galvaude. He explains that although he has an affinity to foie gras, he recalls fondly that when he was in his Wonder years, foie gras was a traditional seasonal dish, served during the holidays in December and January. Taking advantage of a brief smoke break, Chef McMillan gave me an impromptu tour of the premises, showing me the custom-built smoker on the patio that can comfortably house the three little pigs, as well as the winter-bare vegetable and herb beds that would soon provide a bounty of fresh produce that will find its way into the kitchen. With reliable and trustworthy staff in place, McMillan has reduced his time on premises from what was almost residency to five days of normal human being hours.

Spit-roasted and pressed "truck stop" suckling pig with chicharrón and smoked gravySpit-roasted and pressed "truck stop" suckling pig with chicharrón and smoked gravy

The kitchen is relatively small, and the ability to move food out quickly defies physics (visualize a softball trying to make its way through a garden hose) and as artistically plated dishes whizzed by, I stood in slack-jawed, drool-soaked ecstasy – crispy, golden orbs of cornflake eel nuggets with tartar sauce, honey mustard and BBQ sauce; a simple, classic strip loin steak; falling-off-the-bone confit of Guinea hen; the ultra-popular lobster spaghetti (Spaghett Homard-Lobster, a tongue-in-cheek name that translates to Spaghetti Lobster-Lobster) coated in a creamy beige bisque; and a pair of massive, thick rib steaks (côte de boeuf) on the bone that could take down Andre the Giant.

The borscht egg's yolk cascades across the dishThe borscht egg's yolk cascades across the dish

Surprisingly, Chef McMillan detailed how the price and availability of wine and lobster is directly affected by consumption in Las Vegas; when the demand is high as poker stakes, the price for even regionally sourced luxury items ramps up. Price is a factor in one of the dishes I had the pleasure to try at Joe Beef -  filet de cheval à cheval (roughly translated as “horse on horseback”). McMillan doesn’t get the furor surrounding the consumption of horse meat, a practice in French-bred Québec for centuries; Montréalers are accustomed to having access to many of the same cuts of the large mammal as beef. He explains that if he goes to market for meat and horse is at an economic advantage for a certain cut, it finds its way onto the menu. If a customer is offered a horse filet or beef tenderloin – they choose the dish by cut rather than content. The filet (which may also have been a filly) came to table bordered in bacon, smothered in a thick but light-colored Cafe du Paris sauce (made with chicken liver, cognac, truffle, parsley and cream) and crowned with a couple of sprigs of watercress. The dish was accessorized with thick French fry blocks Jenga’d on the side of the plate, perfect hand-held devices for mopping up the sauce. In terms of taste, Chef McMillan predicted with accuracy that it’s about the cut, not the mammal. The flavor was basic large farm animal; although (as McMillan points out) horse is a healthier alternative to beef in that it is lean, the meat was tender, juicy and delicious; the giveaway is most likely the scarcity of fat.

"Filet de cheval à cheval" - horse on horseback"Filet de cheval à cheval" - horse on horseback

One of the other popular items I was fortunate enough to try is billed as “truck stop ham”, although I’ve yet to hit a truck stop that matched the aesthetics and taste of Chef McMillan’s creation. To create the specialty, suckling pig is spit-roasted, separated and pressed and then cut into blocks. The seared porchetta cube arrives wading in a shallow pool of smoked gravy and accompanied by wagon wheels of puffy, fried chicharrón and mashed potatoes. Since the meat was a conglomerate of chunks representing a wide array of porcine body parts, the cake was a jumble of wondrous tastes and textures – soft, fatty blobs; chewy, gristly bits; and salty, pink islands of lightly-fibered pig flesh, all sealed inside the substrate with a light char.

I was also intrigued with what McMillan described as borscht egg; the colorful dish was a party surrounding a perfect, flat-topped oval of beet aspic with a soft-boiled egg in its translucent center. Shavings of cold, pickled tongue lapped up against the gelatin while dollops of dill-garnished sour cream ran beneath; tiny cubes of red and golden beets were strewn about the landscape and two flat slices of crusty, airy bread stood at the ready for clean-up detail. A fork-side slice was all it took to release the yellow cascade of yolk across the plate, flavoring the dish with its rich, creamy lifeblood. I marveled at how they were able to shell and set the soft-boiled egg without breaking it and wondered how many tries it took before mastering that art. I initially thought the tongue to be a strange accoutrement, but in the resulting mélange the fatty meat worked exceptionally well.

The Food52 Piglet award for "The Art of Living According to Joe Beef"The Food52 Piglet award for "The Art of Living According to Joe Beef"

While in the kitchen, Chef McMillan pointed out two lonely, naked disks of pressed veal face browning on the grill; we seemed to agree that some of the tastiest morsels of animal flesh can be found on the face and head. Served sans sauce, the dish showed off the almost blackened sear on the exterior; accents seemed to be an afterthought with cornishes, capers and deviled quail egg seemingly dropped in place. Like the truck stop ham, the veal face combined a variety of textures and taste, each of which were a pleasant and flavorful adventure in my mouth. Throughout the meal I nursed a bottle of Joe Beef Special Pils, a 5% beer bottled exclusively for Joe Beef by local brewery Bierbrier Brewing. Although I am admittedly a novice when it comes to pairing food with beer or wine, the brew had a light, almost sweet taste that didn’t obliterate the flavor of any of the dishes, a welcome quality appreciated more since I was foraying into a culinary landscape unlike any I’ve ever encountered.

A great many of the dishes mentioned are featured in Morin, McMillan and Erickson’s “The Art of Living According to Joe Beef: A Cookbook of Sorts”. The large-format volume is part cookbook, part historical reference, and part non-fiction drama about the birth and formative years of Joe Beef, with a look towards the future. On the end of the bar in the original room sits a golden trophy cup topped by a gilded pig; Food52.com‘s Piglet is awarded to the last cookbook standing after enduring a grueling competition judged by a panel of influential food industry folks. “The Art of Living According to Joe Beef: A Cookbook of Sorts” is the first Canadian entry into the competition; the book edged out Christina Tosi’s Momofuku Milk Bar cookbook in a final round judged by Alice Waters to win the 2011 Piglet. Although the insightful document provides the play-by-play on what goes into the creation of some of Joe Beef’s most popular dishes, my favorite aspect is the irreverent take on the recipes; nowhere is the dry humor more pronounced than in the recipe for Le Grand Setup de Caviar (on page 91) – I’m not about to spoil the fun here.

A recommendation from Lindy and GrundyA recommendation from Lindy and Grundy

Chef McMillan is the consummate goodwill ambassador not only to Joe Beef, but to the rich history of the unique cuisine of  Montréal and Québec province; my visit was an unparalleled gastronomic adventure that will not soon be forgotten. If you’re planning a trip to Montréal, plan ahead and at least jockey a seat at the bar – Joe Beef is the odds-on favorite to be one of Montréal’s preeminent dining destinations.

Joe Beef
2491 Rue Notre-Dame Ouest
Montréal, QC H3J 1N5
GPS Coordinates:  45°28’58.73″N 73°34’31.02″W

GALLERY: See images from Val’s visit to Joe Beef in Montréal, Quebec, Canada

NOTE: This cost for this meal was provided by the restaurant. The content provided in this article was not influenced whatsoever by the owners or staff of Joe Beef.

 

Épicerie Jean-Alfred Moisan
Oldest grocery store in North America

Épicerie Jean-Alfred Moisan, North America's oldest groceryÉpicerie Jean-Alfred Moisan, North America's oldest grocery

Épicerie J. A. Moisan is a historic grocery store hidden in plain sight in a row of trendy shops and eateries on rue Saint-Jean in Québec City’s Upper Town. Before A&Ps grocer apron was even a bib, Jean-Alfred Moisan was selling imported and high-end foodstuffs and alcoholic beverages to the wealthy citizens of Québec from the red brick storefront he opened in 1871.  The store was passed through several generations of the Moisan clan until it was sold off in 1978; it changed hands again permanently in 1999. The building itself dates back several centuries, having been renovated in the latter part of the last one to restore and retain the magic of a day gone by.

A black wooden sign with gold leaf lettering hangs above the portal to yesteryear; there’s no garish neon or back-lit plastic to detract from the sensation of visiting Monsieur Moisan to inquire what epicurean comestibles have arrived from the four corners of the earth for your culinary enjoyment. What appears to be the original storefront sign hangs from the wood-paneled ceiling in the middle of the room that hosts the charcuterie; chapeau-topped staff man the slicers and scales behind the meat cases, preparing and packaging your selections. Prepare to feel like a kid in a candy store (or at least a carnivore in a butcher shop) – the glass cases are your window to a magical world populated with exotic sausages, cured hams, salami, pâtés and luncheon meats. Across the wooden floor, a refrigerated case holds a dizzying array of cheeses appropriate for virtually any gastronomic application (don’t feel like slicing your own raclette cheese? J. A. Moisan has you covered).

Charcuterie!Charcuterie!

The back of the store is lined with shelves and refrigerators (obviously modern conveniences) brimming with local and imported beer and wine (you can even get absinthe if you know where to look); a wooden island in the middle of the area is stocked with olive oils and marinades. Around the store, glass display cases hold items that haven’t been available for decades making J. A. Moisan part grocery, part museum. In one corner, a faded 8×10 photo of Joan Crawford hangs autographed with a word of thanks for supplying her with cosmetics.

Everything you would expect to find at a full service grocery is here; the left side of the store features an alcove with bins, canisters and hoppers filled with teas and coffees from around the world. Offset shelves form an obstacle course through which you gain extra points filling your basket with crackers, cookies, biscuits, candies, licorice, chocolates, baked goods, preserves, pickles, sauces, and food items that are limited only by your imagination. While shopping, it’s easy to forget what century is whizzing past on the avenue on the other side of the lace-curtained windows. Although the store isn’t very large, you can easily find yourself lost for hours; it’s often difficult to tell what is an artifact and what is for sale. You’ll be pleased to know that the rather exotic and fancy cans and boxes in the sealed glass cabinet holding truffles and foie gras are for sale.

Paper or plastic?Paper or plastic?

All fixtures (except the refrigerated cases) in the store are befitting of the establishment’s proud lineage; globe lights and ceiling fans hang from silver tin ceilings; shelving, furniture and glass cases all appear to be antique mahogany; counter-tops are lavishly finished in marble. If you decide that you are unable to resist the temptation of consuming your purchases before you get back to your hotel or place of residence, J. A. Moisan has provided marble-topped cafe tables and chairs in an alcove where you can shamelessly devour the spoils of your shopping foray beneath the stuffed and mounted tarpon that sadly is inedible.

The city of Québec itself is a quaint and magical place, evoking the charm of European antiquity, and Épicerie Jean-Alfred Moisan is a small yet precious jewel in the treasure chest of the city’s rich and illustrious history. I wouldn’t be surprised if your purchases are placed in a plastic bag as a way to slowly re-acclimatize you to the 21st century as you venture back out into the street.

Épicerie Jean-Alfred Moisan
699, rue Saint-Jean
Québec, QC G1R 1P7
GPS Coordinates: 46°48’37.68″N 71°13’8.04″W

GALLERY: See images from Val’s visit to Épicerie Jean-Alfred Moisan, North America’s oldest grocery store

 

Johnny Pacific
Winnetka, California

The unassuming Johnny Pacific in Winnetka CAThe unassuming Johnny Pacific in Winnetka CA

John Walquist was born into the food service industry and grew to love surfing; almost a decade ago he merged those two methodologies into a modest and casual establishment whose gruff exterior in a miniature strip mall belies the fusion cuisine within. The decor is island surf, with photos of tropical waves flanking a plasma screen playing video of hotdoggers dropping into the pipeline; an old wooden surfboard stands at attention near the counter. The chalkboard wall serves as the menu, displaying a variety of tropically-inspired dishes available with tributes to cuisines around the Pacific Rim, dishes featuring mango and coconut, satay skewers and fruit-infused salads. The real draw to Johnny Pacific, however, is their self-proclaimed, number one-rated empanadas. With at least fourteen meat and vegetarian empanadas to choose from and a handful of desert empanadas, making a selection requires some thought.

These aren’t your diminutive South American-style empanadas we’re talking about – these hand-made pastries are almost the size of your hand and are liberally stuffed with a variety of fillings, some rather surprising. The crust is thick without strong-arming the dish, and for the most part they’re crispy and not the slightest bit soggy. The sealed edges feature thick pleating that make a plate of these savory pies look like a herd of stegosaurs, which is appropriate since the empanadas are so substantial you’d need to bring the appetite of a velociraptor (I recommend getting at least four and sharing).

Most, if not all of Johnny Pacific's empanadasMost, if not all of Johnny Pacific's empanadas

Although the sans-animal flesh options are listed as “vegetable” empanadas, most of these also contain cheese (including one that only contains cheese); there didn’t seem to be a variety in taste in regards to the cheese – it all tasted like a mild Monterey Jack. In the vegetable category, there were some standouts and some that didn’t quite hit the mark; the spinach and cheese was crammed with fresh spinach that still had some texture to it and a fresh flavor that was not overshadowed by the melted cheese. The mushroom empanada was earthy and smoky with big, fat chunks of fungus lending an almost meaty taste, while the corn empanada boasted roasted corn kernels that smelled and tasted like they just came out of the smoker at the county fair (although the accompanying chopped poblano peppers and caramelized onions merely presented themselves in a minor supporting role). I was a little disappointed with the grilled veggie empanada – it really only appeared to feature asparagus and red bell pepper, and even though the proliferation of chopped garlic and onion helped, the pastry as a whole seemed a little lackluster.

A cross-section of some of Johnny Pacific's empanadasA cross-section of some of Johnny Pacific's empanadas

In the meat category, the options are diverse – there are two chicken empanadas on the menu: a savory ground chicken and a pollo al pastor. The former had the texture of ground beef and was perfectly spiced, approximating the best South American empanada in taste, yet even though the latter featured cubes of flame grilled yard bird the taste was lost among the other ingredients. The ham and cheese was another that seemed to be vanquished by the cheese, which outnumbered the pig in the empanada by about two to one. Although ample cups of dipping sauces (basil aioli, chimichurri, chipotle, barbecue, and sweet and sour Thai) were provided, the flavors of the empanadas stood well alone, although the ham and cheese needed some barbeque sauce to ramp up the flavor a bit.

Another cross-section of empanadasAnother cross-section of empanadas

The ground beef empanada had a rich, savory tongue that hinted at cumin (although we were told that it is flavored with powdered vegetable soup mix) and had a subtle nod to a modest application of tomato.  Unfortunately the pulled pork empanada fell a little flat; the bottom of the pie was somewhat soggy, probably due to the inclusion of barbeque sauce inside. Although it was moist, it was also a bit mushy and somewhat bland, failing marginally in the spice department. The Cajun representative carried itself well, with big chunks of zesty Andouille sausage taking the lead in a pie bolstered with pepper, onion and the omnipresent Jack cheese.

Kailua pork empanadaKailua pork empanada

I reserved the remaining three for last since they provided the taste experience I want to remember Johnny Pacific for. The braised Kailua pork was exemplary; the sweet, smoky flavor evoked the taste of pig flesh pulled right off the animal as it sat on hot rocks in the sand and the spicy follow-through was memorable. Although similar in appearance to the pulled pork it had a little more resistance to the teeth and was plump, moist and bursting with flavor. The chorizo and potato empanada had a 50/50 blend of the main ingredients; although I feared the potato would steal the show, the chorizo provided a strong contrast and had a wonderful kick without any of the grittiness that sometimes accompanies substandard sausage. By far, the best of show was the beef tinga, and outstanding chipotle-infused meat dish that smelled intoxicatingly dessert sweet (most likely from the inclusion of a hint of brown sugar). The beef nuggets had a muscle fiber texture but weren’t chewy or gristle-bound; this will definitely be my first selection of choice on my return visit.

A chocolate coconut dessert empanadaA chocolate coconut dessert empanada

Although Johnny Pacific seems to be a Jack of all Pacific Ocean trades in search of an identity, you will undoubtedly enjoy discovering what that identity is as you sample a variety of their hearty and filling empanadas. More power to you if you manage to save enough room for their sweet dessert empanadas; moderation is in order if you don’t want to end up like I did in a wipe out, rag dolled after hitting an empanada wall.

Johnny Pacific
7574 Winnetka Avenue
Winnetka, CA 91306
GPS Coordinates:   34°12’28.99″N 118°34’14.26″W

GALLERY: See images from Val’s empanada feast at Johnny Pacific in Winnetka, California

 

Fish kidney curry at Jitlada Thai Restaurant
Hollywood (Los Angeles), California

Death in a bowl - fish kidney curryDeath in a bowl - fish kidney curry

You could drive past Jitlada several times before you find it, tucked into the elbow of a diminutive strip mall in an unsavory and otherwise unremarkable stretch of Sunset Boulevard. Unfortunately there’s no lava floe or cinder cones to alert you to the fact that you’ve just pulled up to the portal to the realm of Hades on the river Phlegethon; oh, sure, it looks innocent enough – but once you take in the unmistakable aroma of brimstone, you know you’ve arrived. The building’s façade features two yellow signs, one which reads, “Jitlada Restaurant Thai Cuisine” and the other in Thai reading, “Not responsible for third degree burns”. A friend from Austin wanted to meet for dinner and have Thai food close to where he was staying; I suggested Jitlada since I’d heard positive feedback from survivors who had returned from their incendiary lunches and dinners to recommend it with what was left of their blistered tongues.

The Sultan of Hot, Hollywood's Jitlada RestaurantThe Sultan of Hot, Hollywood's Jitlada Restaurant

A neon sign in the front windows advertises “Real Chilis Real Spicy” and like Smokey the Bear, you’d best heed this PSA. The menu is somewhat substantial and I was pleased to see selections I didn’t recognize either by name or ingredients; naturally I gravitated towards the kaeng phûung plaa kûng sàp (fish kidney curry). We started with the Shrimp in Golden Thread (although to me it seemed more like shrimp in golden string); this odd little basket of crustacean takes a decent-sized shelled shrimp and weaves golden noodles around it in a loose cocoon that imprisons it while it is fried to a crackly crunch. The dish is somewhat of an enigma in that the noodles are fried and crispy, yet the entombed shrimp inside is precisely cooked (not white and cold, nor charred). The only drawback to biting into this mouse-sized shrimp nest is that the noodles are so crunchy that they disintegrate all over the plate, leaving you with a shrimp and a few defiant strands of noodles.

A perfectly cooked shrimp entwined in golden noodlesA perfectly cooked shrimp entwined in golden noodles

I was instantly “whited” when ordering the fish kidney curry; I was asked if I wanted it milder (with coconut milk) and warned that it is extremely spicy, and like an idiot wanted the traditional preparation and told her to bring the heat.  As the food was brought to the table, I briefly envisioned the bowl being set down with insulated tongs by service staff in a flame-retardant hazmat suit, but there it was, the square bowl of thick, roux-like lava chock full of exotic vegetables such as bamboo and Thai Green eggplant and partially dissolved bits of shrimp and fish half-submerged in the caustic brew like the Terminator robot. I fished around in the curry for fish kidneys but could find no such animal; apparently my penchant for offal was thwarted by a menu translation faux pas. Before muting the incendiary stew with rice I navigated an eggplant quarter and chunk of shrimp onto the spoon and carefully placed it in my mouth. I thoroughly relished the blend of curry and spices and the thick, hearty texture of the sauce, contrasted with the firm flesh of the eggplant, just prior to the immolation of the inside of my mouth. The pain spread down my throat, rendering speech futile, and yet through the agony the rich, almost erotic flavor of the sauce was not only pleasant, but amplified.

Fire and brimstone delivered to you through the portal to hell in backFire and brimstone delivered to you through the portal to hell in back

I imagine the milquetoast version would have had a completely different flavor, and although it may have spared me from going down, down, down in a burning ring of fire for the following two days, I have no regrets ordering the nuclear version (in fact, I took the uneaten portion home in its convenient asbestos-lined container to finish for lunch the following day). Jitlada is legendary for turning the flame up to eleven but I’m not sure where the fish kidney curry sits on the Scoville scale in comparison to their other dishes. The restaurant is divided into two dining rooms, and we had opted to situate ourselves several tables from the open kitchen doorway in the room to the left. Midway through dining I began coughing and my eyes began stinging; I initially thought I was ingesting the fumes from my order, but there seemed to be an invisible cloud of tear gas emanating from the kitchen. I have no idea what some poor bastard ordered that was being concocted in Hell’s Kitchen, but if it had that effect on me in the other room, that diner was in for a special treat and a midnight trip to the emergency room.

I would seriously caution anyone who takes issue with spicy food to avoid Jitlada like the plague; however, if you’re like me and have a difficult time discerning the fine line between pleasure and pain, I can personally vouch for the fish kidney curry as a fine selection for masochistic dining ecstasy. If you’re looking for a second opinion, Satan gives it four stars.

Jitlada Thai Restaurant
5233 W. Sunset Boulevard
Los Angeles, CA 90027
GPS Coordinates:  34° 5’54.52″N 118°18’14.75″W

GALLERY: See images from Val’s fiery visit to Jitlada Thai Restaurant in Hollywood, California

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