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Editor’s note: This article was originally published in Slake in February 2011 Visitors to the Norton Simon Museum, the collections jimmied into the corpse of the former Pasadena Art Museum, come to admire the handsome Frank Gehry garden, the shimmering tiles by Edith Heath, and what is probably the most impressive group of Rembrandt paintings on the West Coast.
The Los Angeles area is home to the second-largest Mexican community in the world, second only to Mexico City.
If you’d been with me at Osteria Francescana in Modena, Italy, last spring, you would have tasted sardines that turned out to be mysteriously crisp fish sandwiches, an eel flanked by the things it might have swum past in the Po River, and an elegant bonbon crafted from chocolate and aged woodcock and crowned with a sliver of gold leaf.
The seriousness of a Middle Eastern restaurant rests in its hummus.
If you spent much time in food circles around the year 2000, you knew that American food culture was beginning to change — and not necessarily toward the embrace of the seasonable, sustainable, organic pleasures promised by the food revolution.
If you watched the Peruvian chef Virgilio Martínez’s episode of “Chef’s Table” last season, you probably remember his encounter with a huatia, the earth oven built as both a celebration of the harvest and as a good if laborious way to cook dinner.
Did you make it to the Sichuan Summit, the panel, involving many of L.A.’s best Sichuan restaurateurs, that The Times put on as part of Food Bowl?
Is there a more Venice restaurant than MTN, the throbbing izakaya on Abbot Kinney?
Liz Johnson, the chef at the new Echo Park delicatessen Freedman’s, has put in time at Noma, the Michelin two-starred L’Effervescence in Tokyo, and the tiny New York brasserie Mimi.
A few years ago, I was asked to sit on the dissertation committee of a young woman whose academic obsession was cannibal movies and their place in the culture.
