Quick Tip: Sweet Potato Pizza

Quick Tip: While we're on the subject of Korean delicacies, how about sweet potato pizza? Apparently it is a pretty standard variation in Korea; I've had it both as grocery store deli take-out and at a popular pizza chain, Mr. Pizza Factory, in the form of the classic "Potato Gold" pizza, pictured above.

Mr. Pizza Factory (not to be confused with the Mississippi institution) is actually a Korean chain, one of many chains in Korea selling pizza. Apparently it offers good approximations of American pizza, more so than American pizza chains (the irony of pizza's authenticity tested by its American-ness not lost on you, I'm sure), or any local chain I've tried in Thailand. As Jonathan Gold, food critic for LA Weekly notes in his review:

"Yet there is something about the hand-thrown pizzas here that is more than a bit off, as if the guy who came up with the recipes hadn't actually bothered to visit Italy or New York — like a Dante verse that's been Google-translated from Italian to Korean to Chinese to English and ends up sounding like something issuing from the mouth of either Borat or Skeletor."

You'll want to click the link through to the article just for the awful/amazing pun title in the article . . . jealous I didn't get to use it first. Mr. Pizza Factory is, famously, the pizza chain "made for women," though I can't say I found anything particularly feminine (or feminist) about its LA outpost.


The sweet potato is not, as you might expect, a topping. Rather, sweet potato puree forms a mushy sweet filling inside the thick bready crust. Of this, I am a fan. Crispy outside/mushy inside is almost always a good combination. (See, e.g., Spicy Butternut Squash Doughnuts) Less of a fan of the meats of indeterminable origin or the creamy sauce drizzled atop it all, but this is just my personal bias. I can see an average meat-loving person eating it up, literally.

Just in case you are not convinced, you should know Mr. Pizza Factory puts in an ingredient that is rare & hard to find . . . their hearts.

Mr. Pizza Factory is located at 3881 Wilshire Blvd., Koreantown, LA.

Throwdown: Puck v. 750 ML

Two versions of one incredible dish
+ authentic French bistro fare

Taste & See: This is not a fair competition. Wolfgang Puck, celebrity chef with dozens of restaurants, vs. a cute little French bistro/wine shop in South Pasadena (that organizes its wine by adjective: luscious, divine, bodacious)? Totally not fair.

That said, the Sweet Corn Agnolotti I had at 750 ML the other night put up a darn good fight. The agnolotti didn't have quite the mascarpone-smoothness or summer-truffle magical fleeting flavor of WP's version but it was lovely in its own right, and a bit more in the league of the average gal than Spago. I liked the crunchy walnut bits and bright freshness of the leaves on top for contrasting texture and colour, though I wasn't sure what kind of leaves they were.


What's more, if you go to 750 ML you can look forward to a spunky waiter named Kip (I think . . . I was given the name after a long night of enjoying 750 ML's thoughtful wine list) who promised we'd like the bottle he recommended (and pronounced in a perfect French accent). . . and if we didn't, he'd take it to the back and drink it himself. Way to take one for the team.


Ask for bread; it comes only on request but those who ask are in for a treat.

750 ML also gets props for its innovative menu. By innovative, I mean 750 ML serves old classics that are not so de rigor in modern America: bone marrow, sweet breads, etc. Their Sweetbreads are, I am told, quite tasty, if you like sweetbreads. Sweetbreads, in case you don't know, aren't exactly breads that are sweet. They are the pancreas &/or thymus of an animal like a calf or lamb.


My party was trying to guess the origin of the name, and the consensus was that it must just be a humourous euphemism, a term as far from the actual food as possible. Plausible, but as it turns out, wrong. According to this etymology site, they are actually so called because 1) the thymus & pancreas are actually quite sweet and rich, and 2) 'bread' is from the Old English for flesh, as opposed to the savory muscle normally eaten.

In any case, I didn't take advantage of the opportunity, but I appreciate that it was there. I was too busy enjoying my insanely rich Duck with Almond & Garlic Sauce. I thought the proper little deck-of-playing-cards portion would leave me hungry, but I was wrong. Each little crispy-skin & fat topped meaty bite topped was compact with quite a punch and I was full barely half way through.

The almond-garlic sauce on which it rested was, as is so necessary with duck, a light, clean counterpoint. (To recreate see the recipe below.) In the waiter's words: "If there was no such thing as cholesterol we'd serve it as a soup." It really wasn't that rich . . . bring on the soup!


On the dessert end of things, the Panna Cotta, ordered with the best of intentions, was more or less ignored by our table:


More popular was the inventive Apricot Consomme'. Soup for dessert sounds weird and (maybe) wonderful, but at the end of the day, it is just the more elegant cousin of good old canned fruit in syrup.


750 ML made a pretty smashing rendition of what you already know is one of my all time favs: Chocolate Melting Cake with Salty Caramel. We devoured two orders of this with nary a crumb left over. I'm tell you folks, give the salty caramel a go; you'll thank me.


Do it yourself: Almond Garlic Sauce:

Blend in electric blender or food processor for about 10 seconds:
1-1/4 cups (125 g/4 oz) ground almonds
1/2 cup (30 g/1 oz) fresh breadcrumbs
6 cloves garlic, chopped
Salt and freshly ground white pepper, to taste

Whisk juice of 1 lemon and 3.5 fl oz (a little more than 100 mL) extra virgin olive oil in a bowl and, with the motor running, slowly add to the almond mixture until incorporated.

Add the remaining 3.5 fl oz oil, still with the motor running. The sauce should be fairly thick, even more so than hummus.

Adjust the seasoning with approx. 1 tbsp red wine vinegar or to taste.

Enjoy with grilled chicken, fresh cut vegetables, on sandwiches, etc.

Wolfgang, do your thang.

If only all jobs came with
a six course Wolfgang Puck tasting menu . . .

I was privileged to attend a work dinner at a co-worker's (lovely) home recently. (Scroll down for photos.) Her husband is a chef and somehow through his cheffy connections arranged to have the dinner catered by the famous Wolfgang Puck. A normal entry would insert some P(l)uck-y trivia here but I don't have internet connection at home these days. Instead of my usual impeccable research, this entry will have to stand on my own musings.

I do have a WP memory: he had an pan-Asian restaurant in Seattle called ObaChine when Asian-fusion was hip and I drug my parents there once. It felt too trendy for them, but I was utterly enamored with the quirky presentations and magical flavor combinations-- and have associated the WP brand with them every since. (Even though the concept did not turn out to be one of WP's best.) I was 16 or so at the time and had no idea the breadth of places I'd be lucky enough to eat later in life, but I was certainly old enough to appreciate the food.

I've become a bit cynical of chef-cum-brand names since then. Mario Batali spatulas? Really? Am I going to make better Italian food by using his endorsed spatula? I'm still a little skeptical but I will say this much: WP's catering company rocked a pretty fabulous six course tasting menu. I don't know if WP is always this good, or if he was just on top of his game as a favor for a friend, but I like it. Wolfgang, do your thang.

In fact, I have an idea. Wolfgang, you are a brand, you need to market yourself. You can't just let Mario Batali outsell your cookware with his spatulas. Besides, do you really want to demean your culinary genius by plucking down your name and caricatured image on stray kitchen utensils? You need something to truly showcase your art . . .

I have just the thing: "My Year with Wolfgang." You cook, I'll follow you, eating and photographing my way through a year of your creations, and I'll write it all up in splendid form. My extensive blog readership will be your loyal following. We could even do a little Food Network special, get Ruth Reichl to get us a column in Gourmet . . . sounds good, no? Call my people and we'll work out the details.

Ahem. In the mean time, would you, my loyal readers, like to see what WP whipped up for us? (It got dark by course three, and my camera was on its last legs of battery power, but I managed to eek out photos with the aid of some candlelight.) Try saying the names of the dishes out loud to amplify the mystical deliciousness . . .

Appetizers: I hit the tail end of some passed appetizers when I arrived. They were the kind that make you nervous as you approach, unsure exactly what portion is meant to be eaten and what is the the proper procedure. Usually I think experimental art food of this kind a little more pretentious than anything I'd want to subject on friends, but a (very handsome) waiter was only too happy to explain no, the parmesan cheese shreds fluffed like clouds on the plate do not go atop the tuna tartare in a sweet-sesame cone, and no, you do not eat the cucumber wheel in which the cones are perched.

First Course: Hamachi with Heirloom Tomatoes, Avocado and Cucumber Gazpacho Consomme'

Normally you think of gazpacho as kind of a V8 smoothie, thick and full of texture. This gazpacho was nearly clear, belying the punch of flavor it packed. Tricky, tricky.

Hamachi is also known as yellowtail, a fish often used in sushi. Notice also the little purple flower adding a nice splash of color. Part of the magic for me in WP's food is the extraordinary care given the arrangement, the perfect placement of tiny splendid garnishes.

Second Course: Hand Formed Sweet Corn Agnolotti with Mascarpone and Summer Truffles

People at my table liked this course, a signature dish at WP's restaurant Spago, best. (There WP also does a sweet pea version.) The corn pasta bits were light and sweet indeed, reminiscent of cream of corn soup but with a sublime rich texture (mascarpone) and incredible flavor (summer truffles).


Agnolotti means "priest hats" in Italian. They're a little pasta ravioli with a meat or vegetable stuffing from the Piedmont region of Italy. Unlike the traditional semicircle agnolotti, ours were rectangular. They're usually served with a simple sauce, like browned butter (or in our case, mascarpone & summer truffle) so as not to detract from the flavors inside.

Third Course: Butter Poached Turbot with Carrot Ginger Puree and Citrus Yuzu Foam

The baby food-esque puree had a nice spicy tang to it, a good counterpoint to the frothy lemon foam atop.


Turbot--pronounced TUR-but--is a funny looking fish indeed, flat and wide like a sting ray. It's from the Atlantic (as opposed to the Hamachi, from the Pacific) and tastes a little like halibut. It is prized for a delicate flavor and bright white flesh.

Yuzu is a hardy East Asian citrus fruit that looks like an undergrown dimply grapefruit, but makes for zesty garnishes or sauces. The strong fragrance makes it a favorite for bathing as well; sometimes hole fruits are left in a cloth bag in a hot bath so the steam takes on the aroma.

Fourth Course: Lacquered Duck Breast with Celery Root, Cherries and Szechwan Pepper Honey

I've never had celery root in this form before; it was pureed, like a pile of wasabi but with an unexpectedly sweet taste, again a nice light contrast to the rich, syrupy duck lined with crunchy bits of fat and skin. "You sure lacquered that duck!" doesn't really sound like a compliment but when Wolfgant does his thang, a lacquered duck is fine by me. (Apologies for the bad photos from here on down, but I wanted you to at least see it.)


Entree Course: Snake River Farms New York Strip, Summer Onions and Yuzu Kocho Reduction

I was surprised this was steak and not lamb, it was so tender and perfectly rare. It was served with half a browned baby bok choy, very tender as well. I really liked the Yuzu Kocho reduction, a lemony gel, to cut the grease. (A friend with more knowledge of Japanese cooking than I have takes issue with my description of Yuzu Kocho as a lemony gel. It is, she insists, a delicacy, a citrus pepper that often comes blended as a paste (from which the reduction was made) and used in sushi.)


Dessert Course: Warm Chocolate Souffle' Cake with Spun Sugar, Whipped Cream and Fifty Bean Vanilla Ice Cream

Ok, come on, do we really need to know the ice cream has fifty beans? Does it really taste better with fifty beans? Sometimes I think gourmet food naming goes a little overboard. But it doesn't really matter because I was pretty focused on the chocolate by that point. And either I am hallucinating, or it had a little bit of blueberry in the melting part inside- a nice version of souffle' for summer. (See also, chocolate with salted caramel.)

Firefly Bistro

Bistro under the big tent

(NB: There's a great recipe at the end of this so if you don't have the inclination to read about Firefly Bistro, at least go learn about toasted walnut madras curry dipping sauce, accompanying the oregano honeyed butternut doughnuts, pictured below. Killer combo.)

Taste & See: Firefly Bistro is a cute little restaurant in South Pas, a city in its own right, (as one would guess) just south of Pasadena, California. The chefs are the daughter and cowboy hat wearing son-in-law of the owner, who welcomed me in a hearty drawl as I entered. I'd expect nothing less than a family affair from such a neighborhood with such an "all American" feel. (In fact, the neighborhood, with its lack of palm trees and Spanish architecture, is often used as a filming location for Hollywood "middle America.")

And Firefly Bistro is in a tent.

Yes, the restaurant is in a tent. Genius, no? SoCal doesn't exactly have weather issues, and while it probably wouldn't stand up to an earthquake, a tent would be much easier to raise from the rubble than anything with real walls. And it adds unbeatable atmosphere.


Live jazz music on Wednesday nights in the summer, courtesy Jennifer Robin:


Lanterns swinging from the ceiling add ambiance:


But charming as the atmosphere is, the real find is the food (and drink). Owner Carl Weintraub calls it "Modern American Bistro." Bistro, as you may know, comes from the French bistro/bistrot for tavern/tavern owner, and refers to an informal restaurant serving wine. (Do my dinner parties count?) So it is only right the restaurant not only has lovely mixed drinks, particularly "Soju-tinis;" two kinds of sangria (red, pictured below) and a couple great specialty beers, but a great list of wines available by the glass. (A must for a single gal.)

The first time I was there, the restaurant had a lovely Spanish white special by the glass (a recent obsession), an albariño from Rias Baixas. Albariños are "perfumed, elegant wines . . . ", crisp and fresh with a full flavor, fruity notes but not too sweet. They're great with fish & seafood, but can also stand up to white meats. Apropos for an elegant lady on a cool summer night.


Rias Baixas is the region where the sturdy grapes are primarily grown. (The better known Portuguese Vinho Verde ("cheap and good"), long available at Trader Joes & other fine establishments, are made from the Portuguese varietal of the same grape.)

Most importantly, the importer was none other than Jorge Ordoñez (George Ordinary, as a mnemonic), the fabulous wine importer and "pioneer of an awakened Spain." Forget the year or the maker, if he's imported the bottle, I have been tipped, you will assuredly drink well.

Most food I've enjoyed at Firefly has all been stunning, lick the last bit of sauce off the place stunning. The two appetizers below have been my favorites thus far.

Cardamom Grilled Shrimp with warm bread and dried honeyed figs ($9.50):


The shrimp had the perfect texture and went well with the spicy, buttery sauce the restaurant called sirsie, seen in the background. Firefly says sirsie is an Ethiopian spicy dipping sauce but I can't seem to find anything on it. Perhaps they made it up and figured yuppies would be more likely to buy something "Ethiopian"?

Also delightful, Spicy Butternut Squash Doughnuts with oregano honey and toasted walnut-madras curry dip ($8.25):


These recall the butternut tapas from Zaytinya I wrote about previously, but the accompanying sauce swings Firefly's version way out of the ballpark. Taste the sauce separately and it is so-so, a bit heavy on the spice. Try a bit of just the oregano honey and it is a little sweet. But dip a chunk of squishy butternut doughnut with its crispy shell laced with honey into the flavorful sauce and WOW. The combination is incredible, simply incredible, a perfect illustration of flavors that are just better together. See the recipe, straight from the chef, below.

Some other dishes were not so great, however. They seemed to overstretch themselves, try too many quirky parings, spin off a classic in too many directions. But like classy stars who end up fashion's worst-dressed lists, it is only because they're willing to be creative and push the boundaries. When it succeeds, this is a beautiful thing, so we're willing to forgive the failures. We just won't order them again.

Case in point, Calamari Relleno stuffed with chorizo, olives, and currants with caramelized sweet corn, black bean sauce and queso fresco ($9.50):


Squishy calamari as the basis for a relleno-style dish was more creepy than delightfully inventive.

Also not a fan of the (ill-coloured) Pecan Coated Catfish over sweet potato-andouilli sausage hash, with Firefly collard greens and mustard pan sauce ($17.50):


Nice idea but the flavors kind of fell flat.

Do it yourself: The toasted walnut-madras curry sauce with the honeyed doughnuts was more than enough to make a girl forget all her woes, squishy squid based or otherwise. Make some up for yourself, thanks to the waitress who thoughtfully handed the chef's secret.

Toast walnuts.
Fry chopped onion, garlic, ginger and curry powder on a stovetop.
Combine walnuts with onion mix and sour cream in a food processor or blender.
Serve with a contrasting honey sauce for maximum pleasure.

Sweet Lady Jane!

Just a berry cordial away
from an Anne of Green Gables remake.

Image from sweetladyjane.com

Taste & See: The name of this well-loved bakery sounds like something Anne of Green Gables might have exclaimed, wearing a straw hat and sipping on a lemonade at the church picnic. In roll the thunderclouds and Anne yells out, "Sweet Lady Jane, I think its gonna rain!" I can see her clasp her bosom buddy Diana's arms now, running to take shelter under a tree--but only after grabbing a big slice of Princess Cake to share while the storm passes.

Image from sweetladyjane.com

Today, though, "Sweet Lady Jane!" is probably reserved for exclamations of delight following a first bite (or a hundredth bite) of one of these pretty little cakes from this pretty little bakery by that name.

Image from sweetladyjane.com

The bakery also has a lunch menu with a few kinds of sandwiches and salads, and serves undrinkably strong French Press coffee, but let's be honest, we're here for the cake. They're so pretty, its kind of difficult to disturb the day-dreamy swirls (though once we got going we had no problem polishing them off without a trace, pretty swirls and everything):

Images from sweetladyjane.com

See here for more info on all Sweet Lady Jane's cakes- and to find out what yummy treats the pretty little things pictured above have inside.

The cake the other cakes must love to hate, the one always lauded in reviews, is Triple Berry Cake:


I don't mean to rain on the Triple Berry Cake's parade (or picnic, as the case may be). The bright berries against the ivy-bedecked white whipped cream and yellow butter cake are lovely:


But the cake itself was just . . . cake. Sweet Lady Jane generally makes good cake (though some complain it is too dry) but I like a some pizazz with my sugar high, and this was a little too normal for me. But apparently I'm the only person on the face of this earth who thinks so; even the USDA recommends this cake . . .

Another favorite, the undeniably girly Princess Cake--probably the cake all the boy-cakes get crushes on:


The green outer shell is not-too-sweet marzipan (almond paste).


The red is a layer of raspberry jam. I liked this a bit more than the Triple Berry; a little more mystery to it, with the nutty sweet of the marzipan and jam. The combination worked well.


But maybe beauty really is only skin deep, because delightful as these cakes appeared on the surface they were nowhere near as satisfying as Lemon Tart with Meringue-- the ugly duckling of the cake world.


Little Meringue, you may be big and round and your skin may not be smooth, but don't you worry, you'll grow up to be a beautiful swan of a dessert.

Now cupcakes are quite the rage in NYC- many people pin it to lady SATCs' obsession with a certain hallowed cupcakery-so I've had me a good cupcake or two. Tonnie's Minis, behind NYU law school in New York, is still my favorite. They might not be as pretty, but they're oh so good, and the people there are wonderful.) Sweet Lady Jane's versions make a strong showing, though, with perfect frosting, not too sweet, as perfect frosting must not be, and the moist red velvet cake.


But Sweet Lady Jane, I think your frosting decor needs a little inspiration from my own personal Valentines Day art project.


My favorite:


Well. What I lack in skill I make up for in originality.

Warning: Most of my reviews are overwhelmingly positive, but I should note a fair number of folks have complaints about rude service and dry cake, not worth the pricey slices. (Though others complain the portions are too big--and I'm prone to agree, I couldn't finish one by myself.)

As for me-I had a great time. Maybe it's hit or miss? At any rate, definitely worth going to see the temple to sweetness for yourself.

Found: One Hep, Hungry Cat

Regular readers may notice the usual headline is missing today. I deliberately avoided including it here, mainly because the temptation to make bad cat puns (e.g., cat's meow) was irresistible. Instead, let me tell you a sob story.

The one and only classified ad I ever posted ran, "Wanted: One Hep Cat." I was looking for someone with whom I could swing the night away. Oh, I got replies, but sadly, none up to my hep hep standards. Maybe the kind of people who respond to blind classifieds looking for a dancing partner are not the best 'hep' crowd. (Of course, this reflects nothing at all on me . . . ).

Fast forward a few years, and just when I'm no longer looking for a hep cat, the oh so very hep Hungry Cat found me. Who says you can't have your cake and eat it too?

The Hungry Cat logo, from thehungrycat.com

Taste & See: What this entry will not do is review The Hungry Cat. Many, many people have done that, 131 on Yelp alone, and that's just the tip o' the iceberg. What it will do is show you some lovely photos and tell you more stories--about a liquor that has generated international conflict and Casanova's preferred method for eating oysters. The stories behind the food--that's why I'm here. Oh, and of course, for the food itself.

We start with the lovely cocktails to which I introduced you the other day. In addition the cucumber-mango Echo Park, people tried a raspberry-infused-rum lemonade (back) and blood orange seasonal sangria (front). Hungry Cat does cocktails really, really well.

I forgot to mention the Echo Park used monopolowa vodka, which is, btw, a centuries old Austrian potato vodka. Duh.

Image from Monopolowa.at

For appetizers, raw oysters ($15 for 1/2 dozen)

Oysters are, of course, "the ultimate aphrodisiac." (Ours were au naturel.) Perhaps the reputation derives from the high amounts of phosphorus and iodine, believed to be conducive to stamina, and amino acids which stimulate certain hormones? Or it could just be . . . Anyway, I hear Casanova ate 50 raw oysters every morning with his mistress in a bathtub designed for two, with a particular method of serving them:

‘I placed the shell on the edge of her lips and after a good deal of laughing, she sucked in the oyster, which she held between her lips. I instantly recovered it by placing my lips on hers.’

See The Old Foodie for more where that came from. As for us, we just had one a piece, at the table, so there was no funny business.

Swordfish Ceviche with pisco, citrus, cumin, cilantro and ribbons of yucca chips ($14). There are also bits of orange & grapefruit, red onion, and (rather spicy) red peppers.


Pisco is a liquor worthy of international legal spats, literally. Pisco the word comes from pisqu, Quechua for "little bird," and pisco the liquor is a brandy, distilled from grapes in Peru and Chile. Chile, Pero and Bolivia not only consume it more than any other spirit (most iconically, the pisco sour), they've actually fought over the right to produce and promote pisco. People can be very territorial about their iconic regional staples . . . (Exhibit A, Exhibit B,Exhibit C)

Tempura fried squash blossoms stuffed with shrimp and pine nuts ($12)


Squash blossoms are quite the perishable treat, and equal opportunity vegetables: you can cook with either the female or the male. But only the girls make baby squashes.

Do It Yourself: Christina promises to have your guests moaning with pleasure, if you're into that kind of thing. They're delightful raw, or cooked as above, but beware, my squash-gardening, farmers-market-visiting friends. Lest you think you can tear a squash blossoms from its moorings and neglect it until you find the time to make that squash-blossom frittata you always knew you had in you, you should know the poor dears are rather delicate: they have about the same shelf life as a mayfly. Not the best visual image, but at least you'll remember to take care.

To get the most from your blossoms: rinse them, let them air dry, wrap them in paper towels and "nest" them in a sealed plastic storage container in a fridge set at precisely 34 degrees. Or just go to The Hungry Cat.

Diver scallops with spicy tasso, corn, roasted squash and romesco ($26)


A special, sea bass with pine nuts, eggplant, onion, & stone fruit (apricot & prunes? alas my memory fails me and the photo looks like currants) all sauteed together to create the most lovely, almost honeyed sauce and equally flavorful oil. The fish had a nice crispy crust on the outside, reminiscent of another gorgeous meal.


I have a lovely stone fruit recipe of my own I've been meaning to share; one of these days I'll put it up; you can make it and console yourself for not getting to eat the sea bass at The Hungry Cat.

And if I'm really good, I'll work out a do-it-yourself substitute for this most marvelous of desserts: glorious, glorious chocolate bread and butter pudding with crisp sugar crust, gooey bread pudding, and chocolate pot at the bottom ($8)



With food like this, who needs a hep cat?

Sugar & Spice, + Thrice All American, correction

Correction: In my tribute to Tacoma, Thrice All American, I inadvertently referred to the cafe adjacent to Grand Cinema as Kickstand Cafe. I'm told the cafe is now Open Heart Cafe, but online searches seem to indicate the name is "One Heart Cafe." I'll be in Tacoma again in a week or two, so I'll investigate. Whatever the name, it is definitely next door to Grand Cinema, and it is definitely cool.

I also forgot to mention, my friend's art studio coop is called Broadway Artist Cooperative. If you're in town, stroll on over to Grand Cinema and see her striking oil paintings inside the cafe next door, whatever it is called.

Taste & See: I recently had a drink at The Hungry Cat (see here and here for more; my own more extensive review coming soon) that recalled the pictures of guava from the previous entry and the chili sugar & salt mixes for dipping the fruit in.

Called Echo Park, the drink was made with rum, lime juice, and muddled cucumber and mango seasoned with chili and salt, meant to capture the flavors of the cucumber and mango sold on the street in the LA neighborhood of that name ("where everyone is more than they initially seem"). The drink, too, is more than it initially seems. Cucumber, chili, & salt are not the stuff of which dreamy cocktails are usually made, but the balance here with just a hint of salt & a hint of spice against the kicky lime is superb.


From what I gather, the fruit on the street in Echo Park is a Mexican snack, but freshly peeled & sliced guava, mango, & pomelo are also sold on the street in Thailand, livened up with a little chili mix.

Slightly ripe mango, with a bit sweet on the outside to even out the tangy crunch. Usually about 25 baht (60 cents) a bag, 1 fat sliced mango.


Durian ("poop fruit"), in the back and peeled, to the left, and pomelo, like an enormous sweet grapefruit. 20 baht (50 cents), and well worth it to have it pre-peeled--it takes a machete to cut through to the fruit.

Chili salt & sugar, and skewers for dipping the fruit in. It comes at no charge, deftly tied in a little plastic baggy and shut with a rubber band then tossed in the bag with the fruit.

I have never seen cucumber done that way, but thousands of California spa-goers don't think its a bad idea.

do-it-yourself:

Cucumber Water: Cucumbers generally seem to be a trendy-spa vibe thing, and I have to admit, as bizarre as I thought cucumber water was on my maiden voyage into "sceney" (i.e., a place that is "a scene," or so I'm told) territory, a couple cucumber slices tossed in a pitcher of ice water adds a subtlety cool freshness. Slide a fork down the side of the cucumber all the way around to help infuse the water with more flavor.


Photo, courtesy The Kitchn

Sweet & Spicy Fruit: Try mixing up your own sugar/chili or chili/salt blend, using red pepper flakes for heat. Use fruit that is more on the sour or under ripe side. Slice fruit into long spears, good for dipping, and serve with skewer sticks.