Noshing on Noodles

Whenever I need a ramen fix, I go to Daikokuya in Little Tokyo. It's a cramped space, and the wait always runs over 30 minutes. But the noodles and kurobuta, or Berkshire pork, are worth the wait.

Miguelito and I usually are seated at the counter when we visit Daikokuya. But tonight we were lucky enough to score one of the red booths. The only disadvantage of having a comfy seat was that we couldn't peer over the short wall separating the kitchen and the counter to watch the cooks make all the food.

This is the view I had. Can you believe how many people were hungry for noodles after 10 o'clock on a Wednesday night?

Daikokuya didn't bother pandering to the hipster and expat crowd with neo-modern decor. Instead, it hung all these rusty post-World War 2 signs.

Hidden underneath the chopped scallions, the gyoza were shaped like ugly rectangles instead of plump crescents.

It didn't matter what the gyoza looked like if you ate them with your eyes closed. I almost choked when I bit into the crunchy skin and savory juice squirted down my throat.

Daikokuya's interpretation of deconstructed food required a platter, two bowls and a plate. The tsukemen is a manageable alternative to the huge bowl of noodles and fixings steeped in hot broth. The noodles were rinsed in cold water and placed in a bowl separate from the one containing the broth speckled with sesame seeds. Another plate offered chopped scallions, raw bean sprouts, bamboo shoots, a hard boiled egg and slices of seared pork. I like to think the tsukemen is the Vietnamese version of ordering pho with the raw beef on the side so that you can cook the meat to your preference. Sometimes, when Miguelito and I are super hungry, we order extra pork. Double your pleasure!

Covert Churros

Last Saturday, I spent 10 hours in Santa Monica. In the first hour, I covered a surf-related event for work. In the next two hours, I went shopping for statement-making belts. An hour later, I watched sawagani crabs crawl around a glass bowl on the counter at Hama Sush in Venice. Then I was ready for churros at Xooro. Don't let the white etched walls get you too dizzy to order one of the churros at the counter. Taking a page from Pinkberry, Xooro forbids photographs from being taken in its ultra modern shop. I conveniently didn't see the no-photographs sign until I was done snapping pictures on my cell phone. Perhaps it was a good thing I forgot my digital camera at home -- I had a better chance to execute covert photojournalism!

The chairs are more sturdy than the candy-colored plastic ones at Pinkberry. Xooro's seats remind me of a schoolroom designed by Ray Eames.

I asked for my churro to go. They gave it to me in a mini cardboard canister. I wonder if the U.S. Postal Service has a special rate for shipping churros.

The churro I ordered is actually not on the menu. I was overwhelmed by the glucose glut that Xooro offers: chocolate coconut, Turkish hazelnut, triple chocolate and strawberry creme, among others. That's why I asked for the original churro dusted with cinnamon.

Maximus and Erin shared the dulce de leche churro.

Behold, my original churro was not what originated in Spain. The inside of the warm fritter was pumped with a vanilla cream that was a tenth as yummy as the custard jiggling inside a Beard Papa cream puff. I also ordered a Mexican hot chocolate made with soy milk to wash the churro down. But my drink tasted like Nestle instant hot chocolate spiked with cinnamon. Overall, it was a disappointing way to spend $7.70. But at least I got these verboten photos as souvenirs.

Dogged Dodgers

It wouldn't be summer in L.A. without catching a game at Dodgers Stadium. Miguelito scored a deal for $6 tickets for a recent game against the Atlanta Braves. Of all the professional team sports, baseball is one of my least favorites. But I was intrigued by the famous Dodgers Dogs. Besides, all it took was a hop and a skip and a hike up a hill in Echo Park to see my first Dodgers game and partake in all the greasy culinary glory.

On one of my first attempts, I got an action shot of a Braves batter breaking a wooden bat in the middle of a hard swing. Such athletic force helped the visiting team pummel the Dodgers in a 9-3 win.

The foot-long Dodgers Dogs are supplied by Farmer John. All the hot dogs are grilled. You can add any topping you want: ketchup, mustard, relish and onions. Sauerkraut cost $1 extra. I decided to stay simple with ketchup and mustard.

Dodgers Stadium has an all-you-can-eat section. For $35, you can get a ticket to the game and the opportunity to eat as much as you want from a pre-select menu. That's a really good deal, although the seats in the right field aren't as nice as the one behind the third-line base that Miguelito got us. Next time, I want to get into the all-you-can-eat section so that my friends and I can enact our own hot dog-eating contest. (Takeru Kobayashi, watch out!) This is Miguelito chowing down on his only dog of the night.

Here are the dogged Dodgers in their dugout.

In addition to the hot dogs, the traditional menu at Dodgers Stadium includes the garlic fries and chocolate malt ice cream. Smothered with garlic sauteed in oil, the fries are good in theory but bad in practice. After digging out the first third of the fries from the top, you start feeling full and your fingers stick together. Miguelito and I had to use a spoon to eat the rest of the fries. The chocolate malt ice cream tasted more like an ice milk sweetened with a subtle chocolate flavor. I liked it. For my next trip, I want to have two Dodgers Dogs and chocolate malt ice cream -- and see the home team win!

Foodies Without Borders

You know you made it as a food blogger when someone asks you to promote something on your Web site. Last month, I received an unsolicited message from a consultant for Miele Guide. If the name sounds familiar, that's because Miele is a German manufacturer of high-end washing machines, dishwashers and other home appliances. What might a widget maker have in common with food? Well, a tenuous a connection as a tire maker called Michelin has with restaurants. Aiming to be Michelin's counterpart in Asia, Miele Guide starts with a shortlist prepared by food writers in 16 countries (Hong Kong and Macau are lumped together with the Middle Kingdom as one nation).

After my first glance of the list, I got a yucky feeling from seeing the inclusion of Myanmar. Any visit to that country will just feed money to the military junta that rules the land, in my opinion. Some politically naive travelers might think that their visiting Myanmar will help promote democracy. But the truth is that the people of Myanmar want democracy and know how to get it under the leadership of Nobel Peace Prize recipient Aung San Suu Kyi, but they just can't because of the military leaders' intolerance.

That diatribe aside, Miele Guide is allowing the public to whittle down the shortlist by voting for their favorite eateries and nominating ones that didn't make the first cut. The catch is that the registration form requires people to enter the first six digits of their Visa card (Visa is the official credit card sponsor of the new foodie guide). This is a very strange -- and totally unnecessary -- requirement, especially in the U.S., where it's more common to find a Visa cardholder than, say, someone who uses a Diner's Card. For those who aren't wimpy about giving out their private information to participate in the public voting, they can qualify for a drawing to win a free trip -- with gourmet grub -- to Singapore, Hong Kong or Tokyo.

Having not read any galleys, I can't vouch for this guide book. But I am an advocate of being ahead of the curve, with access to relevant information. And if someone happens to score that free trip to eat their way across Asia, then I ask you to please be a guest blogger with The Food and Music Club!

Steppin' Out With My Baby

After several weeks of budget living (i.e., shopping at Fresh and Easy with $5 off coupons, using points at ArcLight Cinemas for free movies and hitting a friend's free DJ party in Little Tokyo) Miguelito wanted to take me out in style. We dressed to the nines last Saturday night. He knotted a burro-themed Hermes tie around his DDCLab shirt under a Hugo Boss suit, while I clasped a white ribbon around a Chloe-knockoff H&M frock with a black leather flower pin. Of course, the details were in my accessories: a Victorian-era silk cape, chain-link Mary Jane pumps from Society for Rational Dress, a purse by Trina Turk and a spritz of Fracas behind my neck. The first place where we unveiled our fancy pants was The Edison, an Art Deco-style bar set in a former power plant in downtown L.A. Though I didn't veer from my favored Champagne, Miguelito experimented with a cocktail called a Bourbon Swizzle, concocted from apricot brandy, bourbon and ginger ale. Delish!

Our next stop was Providence, a seafood restaurant that last year earned one Michelin star. We were seated in a private room behind the bar, though we didn't know anyone at the other three tables tucked in the nook. In homage to the fish that were being transformed into our savory meal, someone fashioned strands of amber-colored glass beads into a candle holder resembling sea grass.

In an adventurous mood, Miguelito and I went all out for the five-course tasting menu with the wine pairing. Before our very first dish arrived, we were treated to an amuse bouche. Translated loosely from French as "entertain the mouth," our amuse bouche included a gin and tonic-themed gelatin on which we were instructed to squeeze a lime, a clear ravioli that burst a warm broth into the mouth and a shot of creamy soup made with lobster stock. Miguelito wanted to throw his hands up in the air and scream: "Wheeee!" It was a rollercoaster of flavors in his mouth.

The timing for the wine and five courses was impeccable. The server always poured the wine at least five minutes before each course arrived so that our table would never be empty of experience. Our first wine was a vinho verde, or green wine, from Portugal. Its dryness accompanied kanpachi sashimi chilled on shaved ice flavored with ume, or plum, sauce. The cucumber cubes sitting atop the raw fish were compressed with shiso leaves. I thought the dish was an innovative twist to the traditional pairing of tart ume and minty shiso in Japanese cuisine. It's no surprise, then, that Michael Cimarusti, Providence's chef and owner, beat Masaharu Morimoto on Iron Chef America.

Our taste buds went for a detour in the second course. The wine was a muscat from Tokaj, Hungary, that started like a fruity dessert wine but dissipated in a dry wisp. It provided an ethereal essence to a seared scallop surrounded by chanterelle mushrooms, pistachios and green tendrils. The scallop's sweetness was enhanced by the Balsamic vinegar reduction. But I thought the chanterelles could have been evicted from the plate because they were a little too tart and mushy. Miguelito begged to differ. He loved it.

The flavors thickened in the third course: halibut in a cream sauce with jalapeno mousse and grilled zucchini squash. Miguelito and I joked that Chef Cimarusti was playing sound games by mixing halibut with jalapeno. The joke was on us. The pureed jalapeno provided a bite to the smooth flavor of the fish.

The fourth course, and what basically amounted to the second entree after the halibut, was veal with sweet corn and mushrooms. I thought the funghi went better with this course than it did with the scallop. No matter how politically incorrect some people might consider veal, the meat was without parallels. Tender and perfectly cooked, it had a luxurious blandness. This was the only time we were served a red wine. It was such a prize of a libation that even the sommelier didn't know what went into winemaker Sean Thackrey's blend.

Miguelito wanted to mug for the camera. The red, green and yellow hues on the plate coordinated well with his snazzy outfit.

For the last course -- but not the finale! -- we cleansed our palates with stone fruit and gelato. Stone fruit is a lump phrase for any fruit with a pit. We had peaches, apricots and cherries. A crunch came from the brown sugar crumb, which offset the velvety gelato and cooked fruits. We were offered a port to wash down the dessert, but the drink was a tad too heavy and strong to end our meal.

That's why I decided to have mint tea after the six dishes and five wines. Like any classy restaurant, Providence offered a tray of small sweets to nibble on with the tea. Chef Cimarusti also greeted the patrons at each table. Even though he forgot that I photographed him last year for a story on summer picnics, he was gracious and friendly. With the tea, we had a sugar-coated gelatin, caramel flavored with jalapeno and chocolate merengue cookies. The gelatin was neither here nor there, and the chocolate merengue was a classic treat. The caramel, however, was the piece de resistance. I was tempted to squirrel one away in my purse for later, but Miguelito stopped me when he yelped, "Whoa!" After the burnt sugar teased our tongue, the jalapeno gave it a big kick.