Reading my own dineLA promo yesterday reminded me that I’ve been somewhat shirking my restaurant critic responsibilities lately. Even when I was billed mainly as a restaurant critic on my show, Karen’s Restaurant Revue, back in the day, I really critiqued everything in life, which is how this E-zine got born. But, don’t think for a minute that I’m not still eatery-obsessed. So, I figured it’s time for another restaurant review. [Note: I'll try to get to more of them this year. That's a resolution.]

And, with my life in New York forever changed with the recent death of my precious mother, (which means that, in a year from now, I won’t be spending as much time in the Big Apple as I always do, and especially not in my beloved Brooklyn,) I decided the first review of 2012 should be on one in Brooklyn. On their newly-famous mini restaurant row, to be exact, which is on Cortelyou Road in Ditmas Park. I love the area, but not Purple Yam, one of it’s most famous residents.

The torture chamber seating.

I was taking my sister out to dinner in mid-December, (will wonders never cease???,) and had wanted to try this unassuming Filipino (with other Asian influences thrown in) place for quite awhile, so I suggested it. She jumped at it, as she had already eaten there, and loved dish or two. Let’s just say it’s yet another thing she and I disagree on. At least I have two varying opinions to give you here, so that’s a bonus.

Purple Yam was just an overall weird experience, with a strange menu, to boot. It’s also deceptively expensive, and appeared kind-of dirty, with horribly uncomfortable booths. My back was killing me the whole time. The seats were like some kind of torture chamber. Very odd choice for the designer of the place to make.

The basic view I had all evening. Delightful, eh? NOT!

And I usually love mis-matched dishes, especially at a funky afternoon tea, but here they just looked gross. I felt like they were procured at an unsanitary garage sale, and never yet washed, or something like that.

Worse than all of those to me was the service by the very odd-looking staff. They were kind-of scary, in an opium den-denizen kind-of way! And our waiter kept touching his face..and not washing his hands! I wanted to throw-up. And nearly did! And when I asked him for a second napkin, which was not an over-bearing request, by any stretch of the imagination, he handed me a paper towel!!! I told you—weirdos. (By the way, even Betty said the service was “peculiar.”)

In regards to the cuisine, we did try a lot of dishes, with my sister liking most of them, especially the sauces, which even I admit were interesting. It was all good enough, just not special to me; there was not one dish I would ever again crave, and a couple, like the pork sliders and chocolate rice dessert, I wish I could take the memory-erase pill to forget.

The creepy pork sliders.

Speaking of the pork sliders, they were all fat!!! It’s the cheapest dish, but the meat was downright inedible. In yet another weirdness, it was just $6. and listed as an entree, when the rest of them were in the mid-teens. They must realize that they’re serving you just pork fat, so they don’t want to charge more it.

In the okay category, in my opinion, but excellent category for my sister, were these dishes: chicken adobo; watermelon, green mango & jicama salad; and deep fried spring rolls with pork, mushrooms, carrots, jicama & sweet-sour pineapple sauce.

Can it get any more unappetizing than this???

She loved her dessert, which was a “young coconut” pie, (which the waiter tried to explain for quite awhile; his description was essentially akin to what students who don’t study try to have pass for knowledge during oral exams.) Mine, on the other hand, was one of the grossest desserts I’ve ever had the misfortune to see. It was described as “sweet rice in chocolate & cream,” which sounded kind-of yummy, topped with ice cream. (Since I hate coffee, the flavor it came with, I chose the questionable “young coconut,” which was the only really okay part of the meal.) It was downright disgusting! It was basically rice swimming in some thin chocolate liquid. It was something that some desperate pre-teens would come up with on a rainy week-end, and throw-out before their parents discovered it.

The $12. scallion pancake.

The one thing that bothered me more than all the other glitches, and not from a money point-of-view, but from a fairness one, was this: because of my sister’s crustacean allergy, we had to order the scallion pancake without the shrimp, which should have been a choice to begin with, with so many vegetarians dining out these days. When I very politely pointed-out to our delightful waiter, (I hope that even The Big Bang Theory‘s Sheldon can recognize my sarcasm there,) that had charged the full $12 for what was essentially a vegetarian pancake, he informed me that he couldn’t charge lass for it because they “don’t have a marking in the computer for that!” That one takes the cake! (I wish it had taken some of the other dishes with it.) Then how about comp a dessert, pal?! Especially the sickly liquid rice one, which should have been comped anyway, due it’s grossness.

I had better luck in Manhattan this time, and I plan to tell you about the positive experience later on this week. So you’ll have a little yin and yang. Maybe Purple Yam should get some, as well!

1314 Cortelyou Road, Ditmas Park, Brooklyn 718-940-8188 www.purpleyamnyc.com

As someone who spends at least three months a year in New York City, I’ve always appreciated Restaurant Week. Although it began in 1992, I never heard of it until the winter after 9/11. (Which happened in 2001, for those of you lucky enough to forget the details of the tragedy.) I, erroneously, thought it had been invented to try to get shell-shocked New Yorkers out of their houses and spending money again, while getting back into life. It actually did help many whom I knew.

As a restaurant critic, whose dream is to eat at every restaurant in New York and L.A, if not the world, this seemed like a great time to try as many different ones as possible without breaking the bank or getting my friends into debt over the more expensive eateries. (For those unfamiliar with the concept, I’ll tell you how it works in a second.)

But, since I live here in LA for the other nine months, I always wished that someone would bring the concept to this city. I had actually thought of doing it myself, but I already had too much on my plate. (Figuratively and literally!)

Then five years ago, dineLA was born! Yay! I always hate L.A. being behind NY, (in anything other than sports teams; I love the NY ones, if you get my drift,) but, better late than never. And, in an effort to make it “our own,” the lunches and dinners come in three different price ranges, which seems only fair, since so do the actual restaurants! (The list features everything from cafes and diners to steakhouses and proposal-inspiring hotel dining rooms.)

The two-week event began yesterday and goes through February 3, so let’s get started already!

I’ve tried dining at a bunch of the participants over the years, with varying results. Some are hits, some misses. But wouldn’t you rather miss for $16 than for $30??? I know I would. And the $16. lunches are truly hard to beat.

So, as promised, this is how it works: about two hundred Los Angeles-area restaurants offer set menus for the two weeks of DineLA. (They all skip Saturdays, and some places choose to continue the special menus after the main promotion is done, so be aware of that.) The smartest thing to do is to go to the site (below,) and look at the menus of places you’re interested in. I basically check them all out, because I’m a picky eater, as most of you know. And, in a way, Mr. X is even pickier! (He prefers to eat salmon almost daily.) There are some places I’m dying to try, but their dineLA menus are not to my liking, even though I can find something on their regular ones, so I pass on those choices for now.

Most dineLA menus have three choices in each of three courses, so there’s usually something for everyone. For the people who want to get the best deal, and have the time, you can always look-up their regular menus and see how much those three courses would cost on the other fifty-two weeks of the year. Sometimes the savings are incredible, other times they’re not much; you just have to do the research if that’s important to you.

But overall, dineLA is a great way to try many restaurants. If you’re cautious, you can always begin with the least expensive ones, and occasionally move up a dollar sign.

I’m happy to have tried even the not-so-good ones, just to have that knowledge. Three of the stand-outs I’ve found over the past five years are Luna Park, Simon LA, and 2117, a place I really had no high expectations for. But, I recommend skipping Wolfgang Puck’s Red Seven in the Pacific Design Center and La Sandia in Santa Monica Place; those two are beyond duds. [Note: you can read my review of the latter here: www.itsnotaboutme.tv/news/2011/10/28/dining-la-sandia, and the former here: www.beverlyhillspeople.com/pages/Out_To_Lunch_050808.html]

The whole two weeks are so much fun for dining adventurers, like I! I attended the kick-off recently, at the W Hotel in Westwood, and it was interesting to see so many chefs there, relaxed and mingling. A bit too relaxed, perhaps, because we couldn’t hear the speeches! But, I believe they did make us aware of a promotion with American Express, which gives you a rebate if you try three restaurants, (or something like that,) so check-out that info on the site, as well.

And Happy Dining!!! On your mark, get set, GO!

www.discoverlosangeles.com/restaurantweekv2/index.html

This is a “dining” experience I had this summer, when I was hanging with my little mo during her hospital and physical rehabilitation ordeal. It’s still kind-of pissing me off, so, with today being a slow news day, here it is. [Note: I wrote most of it while it was still fresh in my mind, so you can rest assured that all the info is correct.]

After a week of eating nothing but White Castle, which was right near the Brooklyn hospital my mother was in, (and, believe me, I was totally grateful for it!,) I knew I had to step up my culinary choices in New York, particularly in this happening foodie borough.

She was now in a rehab facility in Coney Island, (which is a whole story unto itself—look for my upcoming column of rehab tips,) so I had more dining choices. Several of my friends were kind enough to give me a much-needed break and take me out to real restaurants, (which I really can’t thank them enough for,) but when I was left on my own, I just needed to pick something up, or have it delivered, so I could go home and try to sleep. (I stayed overnight with my mother every night, as everyone should do for their loved ones in the same situation, even if they have to sleep on a mattress on the floor, as I did, and stay pretty much awake in case of emergency. Again, keep an eye out for my rehab tips column, which I hope will finally be ready soon.)

So, one day, I decided to head over to the near-by Sheepshead Bay “restaurant row” because I knew that they have several easy-to-pick-up-from choices. After a quick perusal of the eateries, I decided a burger sounded just perfect, so into the new-ish Top Brgr I ventured.

I was instantly perplexed by the menu. Basically, what they offered were outrageously expensive Kobe beef burgers! At a fast food, order-at-the-counter place in what’s essentially a strip mall!!! I thought it was just my sleep-deprived delirium kicking in, but, alas, it was not.

When I lamented that I don’t like Kobe, (the beef nor the Player!,) the counter-girl tried to talk me into the $13. black angus burger. Great alternative, eh??? The gross-sounding deep fried hot dog, at $5. made me want to puke, on both fronts, so I went with your basic chicken sandwich at $7. Remember, these prices were at a simple fast food place.

The fries presented yet another ordering debacle. They ran $4-$6 and were fat steak fries, which so don’t go with burgers. I had asked the unknowledgeable order-taker what they looked like, (as I always do with new fries,) and she didn’t know. She said they were regular, normal fries. I made sure to inquire, “They’re not fat, are they?,” since those are not my favorite potatoes and were labeled (correctly, as it turned-out,) as “steak fries,” and she assured me they were not.

When I received the order, and saw that they were indeed “fat,” ones, I pointed it out to her. Her answer? (You’re going to love this one!) She didn’t know that “fat” and “thick” were the same thing!!! I guess her boyfriend can call her “thick” and she’ll be fine with that! Especially since she is thick—in the head!!! By the way, I had even demonstrated “fat” with my hands, in relation to the fries, and she still didn’t get it!

Maybe she’s the one who wrote the “Toppings” on the board because it was full of mistakes. For one thing, they had “mayo” listed twice, and for another, they had “sour cream” and “chives” listed separately—even though you can’t have them as such! It’s bad enough that they can’t spell “brgr” with the vowels, but give me a break on the toppings.

I believe the main attraction here is the huge patio, looking out at the water. Perfect for summer days. Even for Spring and Fall ones, a bit. But I can’t wait to see who will eat here in the winter. When you’d have to sit inside, on one of the ten stools or eight table seats, looking outside at the near-by cold weather, chowing-down on burgers that will set you back part of your month’s rent, I can’t imagine it will be packed.

I kind-of hate to say this, but the food turned-out to be pretty good. Not delicious, but pretty good. I’m always willing to pay top dollar for amazing palette-pleasing fare, such as the best ice cream ever at Brooklyn Ice Cream Factory, but not for just a pretty good chicken sandwich. So, unless every other eatery in Brooklyn is closed, and I’m starving, you can bet that I won’t be returning to Top Brgr.

2267 Emmons Ave. Brooklyn, NY 718-646-2747

Years ago, I reviewed a restaurant called Gadsby’s on something like LaCienega or LaBrea or one of the “La”s. (I’m not talking about the fabulous old Gatsby’s in Brentwood, which was, unfortunately, before my time.) There were four of us and the portions were so minuscule that, even after sharing just about everything on the menu, we each had to stop for fast food on the way home. It was so unique in it’s non-generosity that we all still refer to it from time to time. We don’t even need to say the name; we all know which eatery we mean by “remember that place with the tiny portions?”

Their website photo. We were the only ones in there the evening of our visit.

In all my years as a restaurant critic, I had never come upon such mini plates. Until recently, that is. Lucia and I were in Little Tokyo for the Art In The Streets exhibit at The Geffen Contemporary at MOCA, and she spied The Spice Table, a place that had just been recommended to her. It must have been by someone who’s anorexic, as it turns out!

Besides the food sitch, it was a very hot summer day, and we walked in to find…a fire burning by the bar! I do think that perhaps it was for cooking on, rather than ambience, but give me a break. They need a better system; the place is small, and, though they had just opened for the night, even the host was already sweating up a storm!

So, after I disrobed a taste, including removing all my beautiful jewelry because my hands were swelling from the heat, we settled down to dinner because we were pretty hungry and didn’t want to go on Quest For Food. (And Lucia was really into it and I wanted to be a good pal.)

The waiter, though cute-looking, informed us several times that the cuisine was “authentic Southeast Asian inspired by Singapore and Vietnam,” like we were morons who didn’t get it any of the previous times he had stated it. Or who could just read it on the front page of the menu.

When I asked if they could leave the spicy sauces off the burger special, he said he doubted the chef would do that. While I understand that chefs want you to taste their creations, and not the customers’ version of them, it always seems a tad dictatorial to not let us have it our way. But, the menu even states that “Changes and modifications are politely declined,” so there you have it.

The waiter also informed us that they serve it family style, though they must be expecting families of just one with those teeny portions! And he said it all comes out at once, but the three dishes we ordered dribbled out, with the potatoes sitting on the table for at least five minutes before the veggies, then the chicken, arrived. Not a great way to do things. I’m just really not into the tyrannical chef thing that is de rigueur in some newer restaurants nowadays.

In all honesty, the three dishes were really tasty. But as soon as we finished the “meal,” and I use that term loosely, I said, “Okay, I’m ready for the entrees.”

This photo is from their website because I was too hot there to think to take my own pictures. But you can see how close to the food they had to shoot to not point out just how miniscule it is!

The $8. chicken satay was downright insulting. It was a plate of four skinny, short, pencil-size slices of chicken on skewers. They were the size of doll food! I didn’t even really know how to eat them! They were accompanied by a thimbleful of peanut sauce.

The order of sambal fried potatoes was just a tad bigger, although the taters did have a delicious crispness to them. But the grilled bok choy with three mushrooms was also far from hearty.
Like I said, it all tasted good, but one would really need at least four dishes for oneself to feel close to satisfied.

It hit me later that we didn’t even get any kind of table snack, like bread, crackers, chips,  or even edamame. Do the Vietnamese not have snacks???

And they had only two weird desserts, kaffir lime custard, (you don’t even need a spoon to gag me with that one!,) and soft serve in strange flavors. No wonder Southeast Asians are so thin!  Maybe we Hollywood folk should have a telethon for them.

We wound up getting delicious cream puffs elsewhere in that ‘hood after, which were pretty filling, but we still got hungry in a little while.

This experience was actually a few months ago, but I didn’t want to publish it right away, in case, by some miracle, I actually wound-up understanding it upon further reflection. But no. It actually gets more infuriating with distance, especially when I visit other eateries that are generous, or at least compared to The Spice Table.

No info because it’s not worth eating at.

I know that summer has come and gone once again, but, because I’m in New York, where I spent the summer with my little mo, it’s reminding me that I never wrote about this fun experience that I had during the August hurricane. So, better late than never.

I’m the last person to invent recipes, trust me. I actually used to do that all the time with my best bud, Ronnie Hazel, Jr., like our infamous Ooey Gooey Chocolate Cakes, in which we’d throw everything but the kitchen sink. And that’s just about where we mixed the many ingredients! But that’s where my talents ended.

While Ronnie grew up to be a professional chef at just sixteen, I continued to be a restaurant critic so that I’d never have to find my way around a kitchen without him.

So, I really never expected to be giving out a recipe, other than my annual Breakfast at Wimbledon Strawberries and Cream one.

But on what I’ve dubbed “Hurricane Sunday,” my friend, Accord Real Estate Group co-owner Jeff Grandis, invited me to his house for a vegan lunch. Together, we came up with a high-end restaurant-caliber salad that was just too delicious to keep to ourselves, so I must share it.

The combination of ingredients is what makes it share-worthy, but the presentation is what makes it extra-special. We put each ingredient on a special platter or in an attractive vessel so that we could serve them as a salad buffet. We had agreed on what said ingredients should be, but this way, we could each put together our own amounts. It worked out perfectly.

So, however you arrange them, here’s the “recipe:”

Mesclun
Chopped asparagus
Chopped onion
Walnuts
Curried Cashews
Trader Joe’s Thai Peanut Sauce
And the piece de resistance…chopped peaches!

With all the chopping going on, you might think that’s enough already, as Jeff mainly did. But, as my old pal Betsy Sorkin taught me, I still chop it up even more, once it’s all on my plate. That act really marries the flavors.

With the nuts as the earthiness, there’s no need for even extra bread; this whole meal is self-contained. And super-satisfying.

And the best part is…you don’t have to wait for a summer hurricane to enjoy it!

Lucia and I ventured into the interesting area near Little Tokyo last week for the opening of the bar One-Eyed Gypsy. (Luckily, there were none of those there.) This is Dana Hollister’s most eccentric place yet! The proprietor of Villains Tavern, which is in a different part of downtown than most of us are used to, and the beautiful Silver Lake eatery Cliff’s Edge, has opened a bar that the performers of Cirque Berserk would love!

The invitation promised “Cocktails, Carnival Fare, and an array of live entertainment,” and they delivered on all three. There was also good enough parking, both in a small adjacent lot and on the deserted streets in the area.

First of all, the place was so dark that Mr. X would have loved it. I’m so glad that I hadn’t bothered working on my hair that night! I could have even shown-up naked and nobody could have made-out any body flaws. (Not that there are any.)

And there were all kinds of fun areas, including two skee ball machines, that we made use of, (as competitive as I am, I’m big enough to admit that Lucia beat me by twenty points,) an old-fashioned fortune-telling machine, and a photo booth that will hopefully be up and running in the future. (So we can all see what we looked liked there, since it’s too dark to know on the spot.)

The bar and two table-seating areas are appropriately appointed. And the stage cracked me up. I had forgotten about the promise of “live entertainment,” and all of a sudden, the multi-colored curtain went up like the one at Disneyland’s America Sings exhibit, with the vintage country band, Hello Trouble, already making music. It was actually kind-of exciting to see. Their sound level was just right for the venue, as well.

On the cocktail front, there were many interesting drinks. I’m sure you all know by now that I don’t drink (because I hate the taste of all alcohol,) but Lucia was happy to oblige. Of her favorite one, she said, “The Surley Sailor, (made with rums and fruits,) was the perfect combination of sweet and tangy, and was a refreshing pick-me-up for the end of a day. It was served in beautiful colorful glasses, too.” [Note: the establishment misspelled “surly,” not I. I guess they figure it's too dark to see the menu anyway.]

But, the most important thing to me–yes, even in a bar—is the food, of course! It was a few passed mini-treats and each one was more delicious than the one before. There were three different pizzas, including a clever Rueben one, cups of sweet potato tater tots, and flavorful sliders with caramelized onions.

But the food that intrigued me the most was a surprise–deep fried Oreos! I’ve actually never been a fan of the sandwich cookie, but I did eat them when I was younger just to separate the sides to see if I was lucky in love, or whatever that urban myth was in Brooklyn at the time. (I must have gotten the crème all on one side a lot to have been blessed with Mr. X. That’s no joke.)

I didn’t know it at the event, but when I researched deep fried Oreos, I found out that it’s a carnival food, which is just what the invite said would be featured at this fete! Who knew?! (I was even in a circus for awhile ,back in the day, and we traveled with a carnival, but I never saw them before.)

As much as I appreciated the dessert there, my respect grew as I tried to recreate them myself. Just the temperature alone was a challenge! And the consistency of theirs was perfect–chewy, and served with wonderful hot fudge sauce, which could have burned our tongues if not cooked just right. Pretty impressive for a bar!

I rarely quote press releases, but this one said, “Inspired by the traveling carnivals and fairs of the 1930′s, The One-Eyed Gypsy is Dana’s love song to the eccentric, an ode to the quirkily beautiful, and a calliope serenade to the gritty underbelly of nightlife.” She definitely succeeded in bringing her vision to life. The only thing missing was a fire-eater, and I wholly expect to see one there on my next visit. I just hope it’s at Xmas-time, so he can roast some chestnuts for us.

About two and a half years ago, when I was the restaurant critic for the Culver City News and the Blue Pacific News, I reviewed brunch at the lovely Cafe Del Rey in the Marina.  I’ve always wanted to return, but since my dream is to eat at every restaurant in Los Angeles, if not the world, I haven’t had time to go back.

But on Saturday night, I couldn’t let them celebrate their twentieth anniversary without my being there.

It was an incredibly generous arty, and here’s the it resting part…it was open to the public! They were collecting small donations for the Surfrider Foundation, but I’m sure everyone got his or her money’s worth, especially since they were serving unlimited Perrier-Jouet champagne.  In gorgeous flowered flutes I might add.

My friend, Vanessa, is a vegetarian, and I’m just a super picky eater, so most of the ritzy appetizers were wasted us, but the crowd was loving them.  There were bite-sized crab cakes, mini falafel, delicate spoons filled with ceviche, lamb “cigars,” truffle pizzas, pea agnolotti, and a few others we didn’t try.

Then, towards the end of the three-hour-long festivities, right after a champagne toast by manager Shaun Freeman and chef Daniel Roberts, two of the new-ish personnel, the tidbits switched over to baklava and pistachio macaroons, to end with a sweet treat.

To add to the festivities, there was also a sangria station, wonderful light jazz provided by a trio that fetaured guitarist JuanCarlos Quintero, and, of course, the beautiful view of the marina at sunset. I can’t think of a better way to celebrate an anniversary. The restaurant’s or anybody’s.

I spent the night before Jury Duty at the fabulous opening of the new restaurant/bar/club Lexington Social House in Hollywood.  It was a great send-off!  (Could I be any more dramatic???)  I would have told you about it right away the very next morning, but, in the few hours that I had before I had to leave at the crack of dawn because my on-line orientation hadn’t been accepted, I couldn’t have done justice to this soiree.

An artsy photo of the action on the patio.

The place is hip and beautiful, the DJ was just great (he’s someone I would hire for my clubs, were I mental enough to still be promoting them,) the food was fabulous, and, most importantly to me, the servers were beyond helpful and pleasant, especially waiter Timothy and waitress Jesse.

My guest and I got there relatively early, so I could get home and sleep before the dreaded J.D., so we got to see the Thomas Schoos-designed interior in it’s basic beauty, before the crowd was even more beautiful than the decor.  Knowing what restaurant was in this space before, I can’t believe what they’ve done with it.  I couldn’t visualize the other place at all.

The party set-up, including above-the-floor DJ booth, in the main room. All photos by Karen Salkin.

The party was set-up perfectly, as well.  There were several stations with chefs making fresh dishes right in front of our eyes, such as  steak tartare, quail e-word salad, scallops on cauliflower puree, and fettucini with lamb bolognese, plus passed plates, most of which were so much bigger than hors d’oeuvres-size, like the almost-dinner portions of fried chicken with mashed potatoes,which was absolutely my favorite of the night!  I could have eaten ten of those.  (And did, in act, chow down on two of them.)

Also in the passed category, we had mini grilled cheeses (which, thankfully, did not have the stupid new trend of truffle oil in them,) pork belly bites on sticks, and duck ragout on toast.  And there were a couple of giant tables with cheese and charcuterie platters, which I actually couldn’t stop nibbling on.

The patio bar.

Both bars were open all night–the giant one in the front of the house, and the more intimate one on the stunning patio–and the servers were more than happy to bring you whatever you wanted, including their popular signature “Lexington” cocktail.  (Don’t ask me what’s in it because neither I, nor the group I sat with, drank.  What a bunch of cheap dates we are!  And, as Mr. X always says, we don’t cost much, either.  Ba-dum-bum.)

I must also commend the valet parkers, which I never do, because with a crowd of this size, they did an admirable job of not making us wait too long, and being even-tempered, something I always appreciate but rarely experience at so big an event.

I definitely hope to go back and review chef Mette Williams’s whole menu for you in the near future.  Just as soon as my stomach settles from all the dishes I had collide in it at the opening!

1718 Vine Street 323-461-1700 www.lexingtonsocialhouse.com

Before I left for my latest trip to New York in early May, I just had to make time to attend the opening of The Bar at Cliff’s, in Silverlake, no matter how behind in packing I was. And, even though I don’t imbibe, I’m so glad I went.

Shamefully, I just became of aware of this beautiful, most romantic restaurant in town, Cliff’s Edge, about a year ago, and made a mental note to visit it soon. But, as Mr. X eschews restaurants in general and I don’t want to be romantic with anyone else, (except Simon Baker or Hugh Jackman, and I don’t see either of those events happening soon,) I’ve been putting it off.

I snapped this shot at the very beginning of the evening--before it filled up with the hip crowd and got too packed for me to take pix without intruding on anyone's privacy.

I understand that over the years, the owners noticed that all of their patrons opted to dine in the stunning garden, hence the interior was being wasted. So, with Silverlake’s recent ascendance to hipster status, the front room has been remodeled and turned into a destination bar. Great idea!

I don’t know what it looked like before, but now it’s very woodsy and inviting. It reminded me a little of Aspen, actually, where, trust me, I spent way too many in nights in bars. (Again, not drinking—just hanging with my friends. There’s really not much else to do in that town at night.)

A foodie pal and I went to the Bar at Cliff’s opening just to see what’s it was like, and we were pleasantly surprised by the food menu, many of the contents of which were served in very generous quantities that evening, with the owners and chefs even doing much of the serving!

The fries with gorgonzola sauce.

During the early hours of the gathering, they passed trays of crostini, including one made-up of forest mushrooms, walnut pesto and white truffle oil and another of crusted warm goat cheese with sundried tomato jam. After awhile, they gave each table their own servings of perfectly-crisp fries with gorgonzola sauce, bowls of mussels, and, my favorite, their signature platters, one of cheese, the other of charcuterie, each wonderful.

Here’s what I hope is an entertaining story, of my weird culinary tastes, especially for those of you who were fans of my show, and can picture me telling it: I always ask just what exactly every food item placed in front of me, or on a buffet table, is, because I want no surprises in that category. But I was having such a great time at Cliff’s, that when I saw the cheese plate, with a small pitcher of a sticky substance that you spoon onto your plate, I just assumed it was honey, because many cheese platters I’ve had in the past come with it. So I poured a lot of it on my plate, then rolled a grape around in it, craving a sweet treat.

The cheese platter--note the pitcher full of TRUFFLE OIL!!!

As soon as I popped the whole shebang in my mouth, I realized instantly that it was really truffle oil, my most hated substance on earth! The entire time I was trying to get it out of my mouth gracefully, I was thinking of just how very expensive it is and how thrilled with it the other patrons must be. But now it’s confirmed for me–I hate truffle oil. And I tasted it for the next three days. I say “ugh” to that situation, while every other guest there was probably screaming “YUM!!!”

Charcuterie platter. All photos by Karen Salkin.

My friend loved it all because she’s a very healthy and appreciative eater. I really enjoyed the charcuterie platter, the crowd, and especially the ambience! This was everything a bar should be. I can’t wait to go back with a group of people, though I’m sure that even singles will be comfortable there at all times.

Dana Hollister, one of the pleasant owners, invited me back to dine in the actual outdoor restaurant. I just hope that Mr. X will cooperate, and we can go there for a delightful summer dinner before it becomes too hot for me. If he won’t come to the Cliff’s with me, I may just have to push him off a real one!

The Bar at Cliff’s      Cliff’s Edge Restaurant    3626 Sunset Blvd.   Silverlake    323-666-6116    www.cliffsedgecafe.com