Monday, February 16, 2009

The Omnivore's Dilemma by Michael Pollan


Like the proud lion, I step into my savannah, the cool air of the dusk wafting beneath my mane. I search diligently through the harsh terrain for that perfect prey, the one that I will rend from its bones and satisfy that deep primordial urge to consume. There, out of the corner of my predatorial eye, I see it. I circle, searching for the supreme angle to pounce. I leap, and crash on...a gigantic ear of corn? I peak up, startled, suddenly all I can see is gigantic stalks of corn rising up staight and uniform. I am surrounded. The golden ears loom over me, falling from their husks and burying me in a pile of yellow kernels.

The harsh reality of my supermarket experience sets in. I may never have to forage or kill for my meal; searching through the aisle of the local megamart is our modern equivalent of the hunt. However, after reading The Omnivore's Dilemma, I can never see the things I eat in the same way again.

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How much thought do you give to your meal? It's certainly a question too often avoided by the hungry masses. Why do we eat the things we eat, and should we be paying more attention to its impact? Those are the types of questions that Michael Pollan brings to the forefront in Omnivore's Dilemma. Having societally evolved to the point where food is over plentiful, we need to shift the emphasis from quantity to quality. We are literally what we eat; therefore, we owe our bodies due care in deciding how we refuel.

A good friend introduced me to Pollan's writing in an editorial addressed to the President Elect last October in the New York Times. It's a rather lengthy read, but it summarizes many of the relevant points of Omnivore's Dilemma. Having been introduced to this fascinating examination of the agricultural-industrial complex in America, I bought the book. As you may have heard me espouse before, since everyone eats, I believe food should be everyone's priority in life. Given its prominence, food has too often fallen to the wayside of people's complex modern lives. When convenience has triumphed over taste and nutrition, there needs to be a counter force to fight the indolence we have fallen into.

Whether trolling through the forests of Northern California hunting wild boar or visiting a corn farmer in Iowa, Pollan never ceases to bring the focus back to what's on everyone's mind--what's on our plates. Reading the irresponsible business practices and unsanitary conditions of Fast Food Nation had no where near the profound effect on my eating habits as Omnivore's Dilemma. The author's tone is never condescending; it appeals to a rational mind much more than the emotional one. Even the chapter on vegetarianism even gave me second thoughts about my carnivorous habits (albeit a momentary thought). Ultimately, if humankind has evolved beyond the point of subsistence eating, then we should also be smart enough to make healthy, sustainable choices with our food.

Pollan takes the reader through an exploration of food through three parts, each centering on a different aspect of the modern plate. The first detailed the rise of corn as a commodity and its importance in the agricultural world. The revelations in this part are what inspired my hallucinations of violent corn burial. While corn has done a great deal to advance American society, its detriments are too numerous now to be ignored. As much as Pollan vilifies malicious maize, we couldn't have progressed to the current level of overabundance without it. Just be forewarned, after reading this section, you'll be constantly scanning ingredient labels for high fructose corn syrup and other corn derivatives.

On the other side of the big agricultural complex, the second part is focused on the small farm. More precisely, the small sustainable grass farm, which relies on solar energy and not fossil fuels. It isn't organic, and Pollan explains why that may be a good thing to boast. By following the "grass farmer," the reader gets a sense that all is not lost. If only the rest of the nation could follow suit; there is another way to eat better.

Lastly, the author pursues his own meal in through hunting and foraging. "The Ethics on Eating Animals" chapter is profound and thought-provoking. Anything that can make me reconsider meat is certainly formidable. I won't go through all the arguments, but basically if you eat meat, you must accept a certain degree of "specism". The idea that we can eat at the expense of suffering animals isn't the most appealing, but it's important for the conscience of the meat eater. Just as in The Shameless Carnivore, eat meat if you want, but please eat responsibility by trying to prevent as much suffering as you can.

There are far too many concepts in this book to bring to full attention in a short blog entry. I can only advise you, as serious foodies, and even as conscionable human beings, give Ominvore's Dilemma a read. At the very least, read Pollan's editorial in the NY Times. You might not like what you see, but it's the hard truths that are most difficult to swallow.

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Friday, February 6, 2009

Sanitized Chicken: Honey's Kettle in Culver City



Inspired by Tony's Fried Chicken Civil War, I thought I might share my own Honey's Kettle experience. Except I didn't venture into Compton to get my deep fried poultry, not because I was scared to go, but because Culver is right next to my friend's Battlestar Galactica party. If you haven't been watching BSG, you should; if you haven't been to Honey's Kettle, then go immediately.

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As I said, I wouldn't be scared away from food by the neighborhood. Anyone who has had decent soul food can tell you it's best served from behind bullet-proof glass. But for hipsters looking for a taste of the wild side without leaving the comfort of the Westside, Culver City's Honey's Kettle is perfect.


Even before LA Magazine crowned Honey's the "best fried chicken" in LA, I've been meaning to try it. As a lifelong fan of fried chicken, seemingly irreconcilable terms given the shortened life span, I would gladly check out any place that's good enough to move out of the hood. Hopefully, the Jeffersons of the chicken world is just as amazing as its Compton counterpart. I knew I had to get three things to properly evaluate Honey's--a drumstick, coleslaw, and a biscuit.


Normally, I don't choose extra crispy at KFC because I don't believe in fluff. Every part of the perfect fried chicken, meat, skin, batter, and even bone must be essential to the finished product. Double battering and frying at KFC doesn't add anything but fat. At Honey's the fried coating is different, enhancing the texture and flavor. The skin was crisp, not detracting from the flavor of the meat. I settled on a thigh and leg, and for those of you who only eat white meat, you're banished from eating poultry ever again. White meat is as close to bare sustenance as you should get. Of course, my disdain for white-meat is well documented. However, perhaps Honey's chicken is just juicy enough that the white meat may be somewhat palatable too.

The coleslaw and pickles were nothing to write about, which is a shame since my guilty pleasure is KFC coleslaw. I've been trying to find something to wean me off such a nasty habit, but so far nothing has the consistency and comfort of that industrial slop. The biscuits however, can only be captured by trying one yourself. There may have been an entire stick of butter in each biscuit to get that tenderness, but it certainly wasn't weighed down by fat. Biting into each tasty morsel delivered made me feel things that biscuits shouldn't make me feel. We'll leave it at that. Oh, and there were fries.


The best picture I could get with my iPhone

Honey's Kettle
9537 Culver Blvd,
Culver City, 90232
(310) 202-5453
$19 for 4 thighs, 4 legs, a pint of coleslaw, 4 biscuits, fries
Park at the Cardiff parking garage for two hours free

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Saturday, January 31, 2009

The Bazaar by Jose Andres at SLS


A week after my DineLA inauguratory dinner at the Bazaar in the SLS Hotel, I still don't quite know what to think about the restaurant. What is it that makes it a "bazaar"? There aren't any famous bazaars in Spain. Perhaps the 24 karat golden squirrel coin bank or the $1,000 paparazzi photos that HC pointed out constituted a bazaar. I briefly contemplated the reaction my waiter would have if I tried to haggle the price of the jamon Iberico. But how is this supposed to be a reflection of the food. As I found out that night, the Bazaar is more of a description of the atmosphere than the food, which is most of the reason I'd go there anyway.

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If rich people ever shopped at a bazaar, I wonder if they'd still appreciate the bargaining and haggling as much. I sure felt like a shopper looking for the best combination that my DineLA $44 would get me. My choice of three tapas, a "Philly" cheesesteak, and a choice of dessert for $44 would only be a deal if I looked at the more expensive selections. Therefore, most of my picks, and those of my companions, were seafood heavy.

We did opt for the jamon Iberico de bellota made of acorn-fed Spanish pigs because, how could we not? Mattatouille refers to jamon Iberico as pork crack. Indeed, that sandy texture of cured meat is one I could keep in my mouth forever. Almost as good as Ore's culatello at Totoraku.

Perhaps the division of the menu into "rojas" and "blancas" was meant to reflect proper wine pairing, but I chose almost indiscriminately based on price. While that may be a terrible thing to say for a foodie, I was here for a deal and it was Chinese New Year after all. If I'm not going to get proper Chinese food, I was going to get my money's worth.

Hence the obligatory canned king crab with raspberries and raspberry vinegar, the most expensive "canned" item. While the raspberries were a refreshing touch, the crab lacked any deep flavors of its own. In fact, the fruit overwhelmed the shellfish, which made the entire dish somewhat off. Several other seafood items including kumamoto oysters, mussels and scallops were available in tin also. According to the menu, Spain is one of the foremost canning regions, and this was Chef Andres' ode to the rich tradition. However, none of the items are actually canned; they're merely served in a tin.

How would you make a fancy Philly cheesesteak? I don't know how many people would reply by filling air-bread with cheese and topping it with rare slices of Wagyu beef. Imagine biting into a savory puff pastry filled with melted cheese.

I can't say I only chose the expensive items. Having made sure the total of my selections surpassed $44, I chose the watermelon tomato skewers with Pedro Ximenez reduction for something more experimental. Pedro Ximenez is a white grape and sweet dessert wine, though the dish's flavors were dominated by the fruit. I was caught in the balance between the acidity of the tomato and the sweetness of the watermelon. Both seemed to benefit from the other, even if they were vying for my palate's affection.

Ah, by now you've probably realized that it takes just as much stamina to get through a Bazaar review as it does a dinner. Although I can't enthrall you nearly as much as Kevin can. My sea scallops with Romesco sauce were tasty, but not very particular. The Catalonian sauce derived from almonds, hazelnuts, roasted garlic and tomatoes sounds much more interesting than it tasted. I got a nutty flavor from this common Spanish sauce, but it paled in comparison to Alain Giraud's pistachio emulsion scallops.

Those were my selections for the night, but our table had plenty more visual treats.

Mini steamed uni buns

Tiny foie gras sliders

Lamb loin with foraged mushrooms and pureed potatoes

Clockwise from center: tomato and olive oil toast, jamon Iberico de Bellota, tzatziki sauce for the sweet potato chips, and an over-eager eater

Lobster medallions

And food porn picture of the year: hanger steak


Dessert was done right with just as many choices to keep things interesting.

My floating island nitro-inflated coconut puff with passionfruit syrup gradually deflated as we dug into the rest of the sweets.

A visit to the Bazaar is fairly incomplete without looking through their cocktail menu. My Jose Andres' Gimlet had an entire lime floating in the center, while my girlfriend's Magic Mojito was strained over cotton candy. Among some other unique cocktail accouterments were chocolate ice, salt foam, spherified olive juice and liquid nitrogen caipirinhas. For $16 a drink, choosing the flashiest presentation may be the best way to spend your money.

As I first mentioned, most of the fun of the Bazaar experience is in the decorations, the furniture screaming for attention. One note about the men's bathroom--the walls are all mirrors. I don't know if that does it for some people, but I don't need to see myself from three angles while taking care of business. I also don't need anyone who walks into the restroom to be privy to the aforementioned sight. There some hits, but also a few misses. For example, I'd avoid the toro nigiri on watermelon with soy foam. Still, Bazaar is quite a dining experience, full of all the commotion of a real bazaar. Just don't expect a bargain.

The Bazaar by Jose Andres
SLS Hotel at Beverly Hills
465 S La Cienega Blvd
Los Angeles, 90048
(310) 246-5567
thebazaar.com
$44 DineLA menu, $36 for Jamon Iberico, $16 cocktails, $10 valet

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