The Distinguished Gourmand: Ngoma & Flore

My goal to try ten new styles of cuisine in 1001 days (which began 01/01/08) is moving along rather well. Already in this half-year I've tried Brazilian, Persian, and now African food. This past Saturday Nicci and I ventured to Ngoma (5838 Wilshire Blvd), whose menu features a range of African countries including Cameroon, Kenya, Nigeria, South Africa, Uganda and others. Their website promised good food served in "traditional African ceremonial style," so we were excited to -- actually, I don't think we knew what to expect. Before leaving for the restaurant, Pat boldly defined African food as "sticks and dirt with a side of AIDS", so I guess our only hopes were that he would nothave the opportunity to say "told you so".

The layout of the restaurant was very nice, and the ambiance was both inviting and made for a comfortable dining experience. There were lots of earth tones used in the decor. A woman quickly took our appetizer order (cassava chips), and made sure to ask if we liked spicy food. A few minutes later, she returned with a plate of french fries and a green dipping sauce. I figured "chips" meant some sort of weird grain or bread that could be run through the sauce, so a plate of french fries was a bit off-putting. The Pili Pili sauce was very good, not too spicy and texturally smooth. The fries were a bit salty, which detracted from the flavor of the sauce.

The menu at Ngoma is separated into East and West Africa. Nicci chose the Ugalini Sukuma Wiki from the East-Africa menu, and I chose Mafe from the West-Africa menu. The waitress asked if I wanted mine in a spicy sauce, and I asked for a level of spiciness, to which she responded "very". She then offered to bring me a small dish of the spicy sauce on the side, so I chose to have my chicken in the milder peanut sauce. The food arrived in good time. The portions were unexpectedly large: a chicken leg and thigh, diced potatoes and steamed carrots, with a side of white rice. The chicken was quite savory and fell off the bone. The peanut sauce was great. I tried my second bite of chicken with the spicy dipping sauce, and instantly recoiled at the flavor. It was way too smokey, and the minute it touched my tongue I felt disgusted by it. Nicci's plate looked similar, but she had white cornmeal to drag through the sauce and a side of cooked collard greens. I tried her sauce with a pinch of cornmeal, which was tasty, but seemed like it would be much more filling than my side of rice.

We were too full for desert. For an appetizer and two large-portioned main dishes, the meal was relatively cheap. The food and service at Ngoma are both highly recommended by me...someone with a less-than-poor palette and almost no vocabulary for food reviews.

Flore (3818 W. Sunset Blvd)...not so good. I'm really turned off by vegan cuisine, but Nicci has been wanting to try Flore for a few months now so I had to cave eventually. Fawn and Brian used to make better vegan cuisine in our tiny kitchen. Everyone who works there is pasty and unhealthy looking, with sunken jaws and bags under their eyes. It's hard to sit there and watch them shuffling around without being compelled to stand up and jam a sausage in their mouth. Nicci ordered a club sandwich ($9.95...those vegans sure know how to jack up the price of two pieces of bread covered in green stuff and a fake bacon), and -- after struggling to find a single item that looked palatable -- I ordered the tacos de papas ($11?). Perhaps the biggest disappointment of the meal was when I hungrily eyed my two potato tacos and asked if they had any hot sauce. The pale, slow-moving waiter returned with a small plastic container of Flore's homemade hot sauce, which he described as "cayenne powder and vinegar". Ugh. To their credit, the tacos were pretty good, but they would have been so much better if there had just been a bottle of Cholula on-hand for me to use. And that's why I can't stand vegans or vegan food. They're so pompous. They believe they're above stocking a fucking condiment because they think they make one that tastes better. Guess what? They can't make one better. That was the shittiest, least-flavorful hot sauce I've ever had. Who the fuck wants to put vinegar on a taco? What a retarded idea. I didn't care about how Nicci's sandwich tasted, because there wasn't real bacon on it, and vegans trying to create fake meats to replicate the tastes and textures of real meats demonstrates the underlying jealousy and inadequacy felt by vegan/vegetarians about their dietary choices. The bearded dude in the "Vegetarianism Is For Lovers" t-shirt? Yeah...I'd hate to love at the pace and/or fervor of a malnourished pussy. Vegetarianism is not for lovers of food. We went to Cold Stone Creamery for dessert because I needed a rich brownie and ice cream to quell my anger and fill my stomach.

I found this CD for $5 at Amoeba last week. I guess they didn't know what a scarce album they had when they were pricing it. For those who are not aware, it is a live album that was recorded in Modena, Italy in September of 2000. It was released on Paper Cup in 2001, and quickly went out-of-print on both CD and LP. The ability to hear any Songs: Ohia performance is a treat, but to hear a Lioness-era Songs: Ohia performance...that's pure gold, my friend.

Songs: Ohia
Mi Sei Apparso Come Un Fantasma (You Come To Me As A Ghost)
MediaFire Download Link

Tracklist:
01. Are We Getting Any Closer
02. Nobody Tries That Hard Anymore
03. Tigress
04. Being In Love
05. Constant Change
06. It Won't Be Easy
07. She Came To Me As A Ghost
08. Vanquisher (cabwaylingo)

Tags: Ngoma, African, cuisine, food review, Flore, vegan, vegetarianism, Songs: Ohia, Mi Sei Apparso Come Un Fantasma, You Come To Me As A Ghost, mp3, blog, download

The Distinguished Gourmand: The Counter

Twelve noon and eighty-eight degrees doesn't seem like an uncomfortably hot day, but I am sitting in my bedroom (in boxers and a t-shirt...eh? Ladies?) and I have actually broken a sweat. It's not like my desk is in direct sunlight either. I have to crane my neck just to see around a neighboring apartment building. Still, I find it unusual that the days seem to go from unseasonably hot to cold in a seemingly random way. Whatever. None of you care about my life and my daily struggles anyway, so here's a new blog entry for you.

Last evening, while my sunburn was just starting to make itself apparent, Nicci and I dined at The Counter (2901 Ocean Park Blvd). Although the burger joint wasn't nearly as interesting as past eateries (I'm thinking Bossa Nova specifically), it provided a quality meal of gastronomic proportions at a reasonable price. If you don't know about The Counter, it's a chain of hamburger-centric restaurants (they have something like fifty new franchises opening around the country this year) specializing in customizable burgers. When you're seated, you are given a clipboard containing the menu and a pencil to mark exactly how you want to build your hamburger. All prices are clearly explained, so those of you who want to cram as many fixing as possible at no cost are going to be surprised by your bill.

There is a separate menu for appetizers, specialty burgers, and a handful of non-burger related items (including basic sandwiches, salads and chili), but I don't know if anyone looks at this menu for anything other than appetizers. Except the dumb bitch seated next to us (Nicci called her a pussy) who ordered a bowl of chili and "mini burgers" as her main course. Nice going, cooze. The dude you're out on a date with is totally going to think you're health-conscious without realizing that six mini burgers equal one real hamburger.

For starters, we ordered fried dill pickle chips. They were "meh". They came with some sort of apricot-smelling honey glaze sauce that tasted pretty foul, so we just used ketchup as our condiment of choice for the chips. Had I remembered just how awesome the sweet potato fries were (with their great dipping sauce, reminiscent of the garlic butter sauce offered by Father's Office), I would have suggested that. Oh well, there might be a next time.

Nicci chose a 1/3 lb. beef burger with sharp provolone cheese, topped with grilled onions, grilled pineapple, tomatoes (I think?), and avocado, on a honey wheat bun. I ordered a 1/3 lb. beef burger with Tillamook cheddar topped with jalapenos, dill pickle chips, and honey cured bacon, on an english muffin. I thought about adding in tomatoes, but crossed it out at the last minute. Thoughts of adding a fried egg and chili crossed my mind, but I've still got a few good years before my first heart attack forces me to re-think my eating habits, so I promised myself I would wait until my next trip to Fatburger to order that one. Since the appetizer fries are quite hearty portions, none of the build-a-burgers are served with fries. Whatever, sometimes I'm so full after a good meaty dead cow meal I don't even have room to eat the fries. It's also one less thing I have to feel shitty about paying for.

The service was good, our African American waitress paid close attention to us, and was good about refilling our sodas once I was finished with mine. The chips arrived in a reasonable amount of time, and the burgers followed a few minutes after, giving us ample time to start digesting the appetizer. Nicci's hamburger was mammoth looking, and she wound up having to remove the avocado and one pineapple slice just to fit the sandwich in her mouth. Mine appeared slightly less menacing, but the number of jalapenos stacked between the bottom of the patty and the bottom of the muffin were overwhelming. Each time I lifted the monstrosity from my plate, it looked like five or six of them fell onto my plate. I somehow found a technique for incorporating a satisfying amount of jalapeno and ketchup into each bite, which made me enjoy the burger that much more.

Upon completing our meals, we were fully stuffed. The drive back to Echo Park was somewhat quiet, as we found ourselves enveloped by what I can only describe as post-burger bliss. I don't know about you, but I feel kind of euphoric after a really good hamburger. The Counter did not disappoint.

All that was left to make the night complete was watching a terrible episode of Top Chef: Chicago on Bravo!, and playing Mario Kart on Nintendo Wii until the early hours of the morning. Motherfucking LOST is on tonight, and I've got a great weekend-full of Top Ten lists begging me to sit down and write them.

If you want to win a brand new copy of The Clash's Live Revolution Rock DVD and the Singles CD, leave a comment (or e-mail me with your name and address) telling us the name of your favorite local burger joint and what makes it so damned good. For those of you who are unaware, Live Revolution Rock is an incredible documentary made by Don Letts (long-time collaborator and Grammy-winning producer) detailing the scope of the band's career and the ways in which they transformed their live show, plus awesome in-studio clips spliced between live songs. Raw, powerful, and quite engaging, it's always fun to see and learn more about a band as influential as The Clash. Personally, the best part of the DVD for me was watching the band perform at Shea Stadium. God, I'm going to miss that stadium...The Singles CD has been out for some time, I think, but it contains album versions of twenty Clash singles. So, yeah. Comment and e-mail away, readers!

Also, you've got less than twenty-four hours to buy my needless memorabilia and records on eBay. Gas is over $4 a gallon now, and I want to make sure I can pay for more dinners in the future, so bid now!

Sons Of Otis - Losin' It - (buy this album)
K.M. Krebs - A Black Raven In The Aftermoon Light
The Book Of Knots - View From The Watertower - (buy this album)
Ours - God Only Wants You - (buy this album)
Jasper TX - A String Of Broken Lights

Tags: The Counter, Santa Monica, hamburger, customize, build-a-burger, Ocean Park Blvd, fried pickle chips, burger joint, restaurant review, food critic, mp3, blog, download, The Clash, Live Rock Revolution, Sons Of Otis, K.M. Krebs, The Book Of Knots, Ours, Jasper TX

The Distinguished Gourmand: Brazilian

Newsflash. I am neither distinguished nor a gourmand. I am lacking in both success and authority. I do not command great respect. I am afraid of eating. In fact, before 2008, I'm pretty sure the last time I even consumed 1,000 calories in one day was when I was in high school. Food, for me, is a chore. It's not something that I derive any great pleasure from. It's a frustrating and oftentimes angering routine that most normal folks perform at least once daily.

Which is why I'm going to start reviewing all the restaurants I eat at here in Los Angeles. For starters (or, as they say in the chef-ing business, "for appetizer"), I know nothing about food preparation. I once cooked pasta, bur normally I just make omelets. Two out of every three omelets turn out bad. My inexperience with cooking makes me a perfect candidate for writing a food column because I have no vocabulary with which to describe what I'm eating. Second of all, my palate is elementary at best. No, make that pre-school. I've got the basic "hot", "cold", "sweet," "sour" thing down, but that's about it. Again, this valuable (and sometimes overlooked) asset makes me a strong candidate to critique eateries. So, without further ado, my first ever restaurant review.

Open seven days a week, Bossa Nova (7181 Sunset Blvd) offers Italian/Brazilian fusion cuisine. Actually, it is more like Brazilian/Italian, because it's mainly Brazilian food. Plus, the t-shirts they sell had drawings of what (politely...politically correctly...) appeared to be...cultural...uh, dark-skinned, dread-locked characters on them. The predominant colors on the shirt were yellow and green. Perhaps not surprisingly, these are Brazil's colors. Or at least their World Cup soccer team. The point is, Bossa Nova serves food. Some Italian, some Brazilian. Mostly Brazilian.

Arriving at 8:30 on a Saturday night, a party of two can expect to wait anywhere from twenty to thirty minutes before being seated. During that time, one can survey the grounds, such as the outdoor (or al fresco) patio dining area, or the cozy, water-fountain-featuring inside eating room. No wait -- dining room. The subtle sounds of...music fill the air. There was a Michael Jackson song playing. It wasn't overbearingly loud. One could still carry on a conversation, be it about the anticipated meal, or perhaps something more important, like the day's baseball scores.

The drink menu features a variety of options, such as "tropical drink", which is a combination of iced-tea and lemonade -- wait for it -- mixed together like a slushee. Yeah, real tropical. The beer menu offers three Brazilian beers, one of which is currently (and perhaps permanently) unavailable. The 12 oz. bottle of Xingu poured dark brown, with a modest tan-colored head. The aroma was mostly malts. Sweet. The taste was also malty, and somewhat bland. Crisp and easy to drink. Not bad. Not good.

The open-top container (otherwise known as a basket) with bread in it -- placed expertly on the table by a waiter in a baseball cap -- featured delicious carb-filled goodness. Cut into squares measuring roughly 1 3/4" by 2 5/8", the flour-water-yeast baked-goods were covered in tomato and other stuff. It was savory and nice. Picture bruschetta, but not as crispy. Less toasted, but still warm, buttery and fluffy. Like the density of cornbread with the toppings of bruschetta, Call it...Bruscornetta bread.

Coxinha (pronounced Co-sheen-ya) or "little thigh" is a fried pear-shaped appetizer that is packed with chicken and cheese, battered and deep fried. Served with a small bottle of Cholula, the manageable (read: small) dish makes a warm and tasty start to any Brazilian meal, though it is not mandatory.

Marsala marinated fresh skinless boneless chicken breast arrived grilled and seasoned in a variety of traditional Brazilian spices and junk. The flavor was that of chicken potentially marinated, though it was not entirely obvious anything had been done to the chicken aside from it being thoroughly grilled on both sides. Moving clockwise from the chicken (which was position at six o'clock) the plate consisted of a large portion of white rice, a small container of ketchup, a scoop or two of fresh salsa, something called yucca flour, and a pile of french fries. There should have been a bowl of black beans included, but certain distinguished gourmands prefer not to consume such foul culinary abominations. The choice given to diners was between french fries and fried plantains, but the coxinha was fried enough to not warrant more fried foods on the plate. French fries, as everybody knows, are not actually fried, they're deeply steeped in a vat of lard or oil. Those are two totally different methods of cooking. Yucca flower, by the way, was completely unfamiliar to this diner. Attempts to mix everything on the plate together before taking a bite proved to be "meh" at best. The fresh salsa and rice went well with the chicken. The yucca flour and french fries were less appetizing.

Bossa Nova's menu includes many other yummy sounding dishes. The corquete de Camarao (shrimp and cheese in a fried, breaded dough), kibe (a Brazilian-Arabian delicacy made up of deep fried bulghar wheat mixed with ground beef and herbs) should provide eaters with something positive to say. It is no small coincidence that they are both fried dishes. Fried dishes are generally known to be incredible. Other main courses include sandwiches and other grilled items (vegetables, seafood, steak). There are main course salads, but you'd have to be a woman to order a salad. Disregard the Italian food. If you're looking for a high-quality pasta or pizza, try an authentic Italian restaurant, where the preferred house music consists of famous arias, not a Best Of Michael Jackson compilation.

Carefully chosen for it's easily accessible Brazilian dishes, Bossa Nova is a good starting point for diners who are unaccustomed to foreign cuisine. There are enough deep-fried offerings to make it comfortable and edible for even the staunchest of culinary Scrooges. Bah humbug? Bat Macumba!

Not sure what that means.

Tags: Boss Nova, Sunset Blvd, Los Angeles, review, coxinha, Xingu, Brazilian food, daily life, mp3, blog, download, Islaja, Nadja, Tape, Growing