Anisette: WTF?

The food blogs and message boards have been abuzz about Anisette since it opened – unsurprising since the restaurant marks the return of Alain Giraud, one of LA’s foremost chefs. Reviews have been mixed, especially among the Chows and the Yelpers, but I was still very excited to try it. I tend not to have specific expectations about how food should be prepared; if there is good food and good wine, then I’m happy.

Our reservation was for 8:30 on Friday night. When we arrived (to a packed house) the hostess told us it would be a few minutes before our table was ready, and to have a seat at the bar. The space is lovely, albeit loud, and we were duly impressed by the wall of bottles. After squeezing ourselves in near the end of the bar, we bought a round of cocktails to pass the time. All of us tried an elderflower/cucumber cocktail. Very au courant and well made, but I’d go with something more basic next time.

At around 8:45 we went to check on our table. It still was not ready, but we were told the table was finishing dessert and that it would be ready soon. As the driver, I decided to skip the next round of cocktails, but one of my dining companions opted to try the absinthe. The preparation was traditional, yet impressive. The bartender placed a sugar cube on a slotted spoon on top of the glass of absinthe, lit the cube on fire so it would melt into the drink, and then poured cold water into the drink to put out the fire and dilute it slightly. The absinthe was very alcoholic, with a strong medicinal aftertaste, but definitely a fun diversion.

However, at this point it was 9 p.m. and there was still no word on our table. For the next half hour we sat dejectedly at the bar waiting for our table to be ready. The bartender gave us each a gratis glass of bubbly as an apology (not what we would have ordered, but a nice gesture), and after several more inquiries as to our table, we were finally seated around 9:35. That’s right folks. Over an hour wait for our table, and we had a reservation!

The manager gave us a basket of gougeres for the table in apology for the wait, and the sommelier took our wine order immediately. We wolfed down for the gougeres (which were lovely) and then waited for our server to take our order. And waited. And waited. Did I mention there was a lot of waiting? Our server finally came to take our order around 10:05 p.m. – about the time I’m used to finishing dinner – and didn’t seem too concerned that we had been at the restaurant for an hour and a half already. After a comment to the manager about the further wait, however, our starters came out rapidly. We had a Frisee au Lardon salad, a smoked salmon plate with brioche, and a cheese plate. The egg on the Frisee au Lardon was overcooked, such that the yolk was completely solid and did not run at all. Still tasty, but a restaurant helmed by someone with Alain Giraud’s pedigree should be able to execute a traditional dish like this better. The smoked salmon was good but nothing special. We really enjoyed the cheese plate, although I have no idea what was on it – our server did not know and never came back with the info even though we asked him to.

Things really fell apart with our main courses. We ordered the Beef Daube Provencal, the Gnocchi, and the Black Cod with Chorizo and Clams. Of the three, only the Beef Daube was standout. Really delicious, with melt in your mouth beef, and an almost carmelized reduction. The Black Cod was cold and bland. Only the chorizo had any flavor. I’m not sure how long it had been sitting, but the wait didn’t do it any favors. Next to the Gnocchi, though, the cod was delicious. The Gnocchi – purportedly made with black truffle and parmesan – were mealy, devoid of any flavor, and slightly undercooked.

While halfheartedly eating dessert around 11:15, we marveled at just how mediocre the food was. Only the cheese plate, the Beef Daube and the chocolate ice cream (part of a trio we ordered) could be classified as flavorful and satisfying; the rest of our food ranged from pedestrian (the Frisee Salad, and the Salmon) to downright offensive (the Gnocchi). Bottom line – for a top chef, about $100 per person and an hour + wait for our table, I expected a lot more.

If I’m on that side of town again I might go to Anisette for a drink at the bar and maybe a cheese plate, but with so many other delicious French options available in LA these days (Little Next Door, Comme Ca and Café Stella to name a few) I won’t be eating dinner at Anisette again anytime soon.

Real Life: I Was Seduced By KCRW's Tom Schnabel

Like many LA music nerds, I'm a whore for KCRW's music programming. Not a single day goes by that I don't tune in and burn with envy (at least I hope it's envy. Otherwise, I probably should see a doctor) at the latest musical discovery.

Normally, I'm a hussy for Nic Harcourt, Jason Bentley, Raul Campos, Garth Trinidad-- hell, I'd even let Chris Douridas roofie me. But last Sunday afternoon, I was lured into the babe lair of one silver fox by the name of Thomas Daniel Schnabel. Observe:


Now, admittedly, Cafe LA is a little too World Music for my taste. I am one of those shameful creatures whose musical interests aren't sophisticated enough to endure more than a song or two of Brazilian lounge music or some obscure European import without shaking it up with a little something I can sing to-- like the entire discography of Hall & Oates, for example.

Let's cut now to my Sunday afternoon. I'm finishing up my LA Times Sunday crossword puzzle, quietly praising the good Lord above to be listening to anything but Le Show, which I openly despise (sorry, Harry, but this one does NOT go to eleven), and I hear it: a little bit of magic that made me tickle in my funny parts:



I know, you guys! I know. It kind of just crept up on me. It's like one of those guys that's been friends with you for like 10 years, and he's giving you what appears to be a harmless platonic massage on the shoulders, let's say-- which you willfully accept just to ease the ol' girl's tension from the day, and who wouldn't?-- when suddenly you feel a stiff poke on the lower back, and then it gets awkward because it's like, do I ask this guy if it's something in his pocket? I mean, besides his erect penis? And now do I have to have this weird conversation with my old friend, that I never thought I'd have to have, because I always kind of thought we were on the same page? You know, that page about being totally out of his league and him never having a snowball's chance in hell?

I mean, I'm not saying that happened. But if it did, my creepy friend's boner would be like my realization about one minute into this sweet little ditty that maybe, just maybe, I kinda like it.

I gotta go call my friend. My neck is stiff and I don't wanna watch Project Runway on DVR alone.

Sincerely,

Babs

Update: I just watched Diner for the first time (Good thing I'm not a movie critic. I know this is supposed to be some timeless classic, but Jesus. What a snoozefest.) and was pleasantly surprised to hear this panty-dropper featured in the soundtrack! What can I say, I'm an old soul.

Kiss my Bundt Bakery

After brunch at Little Next Door this morning, I decided to check out Kiss My Bundt Bakery http://www.kissmybundt.net/. Kiss My Bundt is devoted almost entirely to (you guessed it) bundt cakes. The bakery offers three sizes of bundt cake -- Mini Bundt, Baby Bundts, and Big Ol' Bundts. Big Ol' Bundts are available only by special order, and I didn't see too many Baby Bundts in the case, but not to worry -- the Mini Bundts are the perfect size for these moist yummy cakes! There are 32 flavors of bundt, and various frostings to choose from. The 8 most popular flavors are offered every day:

1. Callebaut® Chocolate Cake with Chocolate Glaze
2. Callebaut® Chocolate Cake with Vanilla Buttercream and Belgian Chocolate sprinkles
3. Callebaut® Chocolate Cake with Cream Cheese Frosting
4. Vanilla Cake with Chocolate Buttercream
5. Vanilla Cake with Vanilla Buttercream and white chocolate shavings
6. Red Velvet Cake with Cream Cheese Frosting
7. Luscious Lemon Drop Cake, featuring a house-made lemon syrup and lemon glaze
8. Carrot Cake with Cream Cheese Frosting

The other flavors offered vary daily, with as many as 15 flavors available some days. Kiss my Bundt also serves brownies, fair trade coffee and tea, and now that the weather has sorta cooled off, homemade hot chocolate.

The shop is very cheery, with a pink, brown and white decor. There were Halloween decorations up, and a Halloween theme to certain of the cakes (i.e. orange-colored frosting and brown and orange sprinkles on some cakes).

Chrysta Wilson, the proprietress and creator of these yummy confections, was at the register when I came in. She offered me samples of "anything and everything." I opted to sample the day's special offerings -- pumpkin cake with cream cheese frosting, and pumpkin cake with cinnamon glaze. As I can attest from both the samples and and my later consumption of a mini bundt in each flavor, both were fantastic. The pumpkin cake was moist and not-too-sweet, and both the cream cheese frosting and cinnamon glaze were great complements to the cake. Also, each had the perfect amount of icing/frosting. Enough to satisfy a frosting enthusiast, but not so much that the little cakes were overwhelmed.

I bought several flavors of mini-bundt to try -- I knew my colleagues at work would be more than happy to help me taste test. Aside from the aforementioned pumpkin combos, I bought red velvet with cream cheese frosting, dark chocolate with dark chocolate glaze, and the Halloween-themed vanilla with vanilla buttercream . All were fantastic, with the dark chocolate and red velvet voted the favorites by my co-workers. Like me, they appreciated the frosting/icing to cake ratio. I can't wait to go back and try the other flavors, especially the lemon and carrot, and am looking forward to some hot chocolate when it is a tad cooler.

The verdict: I will happily support this neighborhood gem. The mini-bundts are as good if not better than any cupcake in LA. I suggest you check it out next time a cupcake or sweets craving hits.

Kiss My Bundt Bakery, 8104 West 3rd Street, Los Angeles, CA 90048, (323) 655-0559.

Bristol Farms: Fine Food and Fine Men

I have a love/hate relationship with Bristol Farms. Everything in the store is fantastic. Delicious prepared foods, an astounding array of cheeses and charcuterie, perfect produce, Method cleaning products, AND a miniature wine heaven. I stop in for a block of cheddar and leave with pre-sliced mango, veal stock, rosé champagne and 6 bottles of the boutique Syrah I had at Canteen in San Francisco and was previously unable to find ANYWHERE. However, the mark-up at Bristol Farms borders on the offensive. Whatever the product -- milk, eggs, horseradish, toilet paper -- it costs at least 25% more at Bristol Farms than it does at the Ralphs directly across the street.

But Bristol Farms -- at least the Beverly & Doheny location -- has something Ralphs does not: ridiculously hot men. Whereas Whole Foods is the domain of doe-eyed models, aspiring starlets and (gasp!) even attractive regular gals like me, Bristol Farms is where winners of the male genetic lottery shop for groceries.

I’ve never actually spoken with any of these men, other than the time a gorgeous but clearly taken actor type asked me for wine advice. Part of this stems from the fact that I’m too shy to make eye contact with anyone I think is attractive unless I’ve had a few drinks. The remainder of my reserve is based on the fact that I was approached by a man in the grocery store once, and it was really really creepy. So creepy, in fact, that one of the store employees offered to walk me to my car. Thus, from my perspective, Bristol Farms is merely a place to observe man candy in its natural habitat. But if you are bolder than I, add the Beverly & Doheny Bristol Farms to your to-do list.

I am currently contemplating camping out in front of Bristol Farms in hopes of “running into” the man I saw there last Thursday. The love child of Patrick Dempsey and the brawny man, I almost followed him out of the store and offered to have 10,000 of his babies. Luckily, my path was blocked by an elderly woman contemplating the virtues of black licorice (I prefer RJ’s soft-eating licorice, she is a staunch Panda fan), saving me from humiliation and/or a stalking charge.

Like bigfoot, unicorns, and the Loch Ness Monster, I don’t have any photographs of the Bristol Farms hot man phenomenon. What can I say? I don’t usually bring a camera with me to the grocery store. From here on out though, I will carry one with me, and will post any pictures I am able to obtain. So stay tuned for updates to this post, and keep your fingers crossed that neither the men in question nor Bristol Farms will mind being the subject of an occasional candid photograph. Though a story involving me getting punched in the face by a dude while trying to take his picture at Bristol Farms could make for an interesting post . . .