Tag Archives: Los Angeles

Rare Roast Beef – Clementine, Ensley Ave, Los Angeles

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I’ve visited Clementine before, and the quality of what I found the first time around ensured that I would return. This time I elected to try the rare roast beef: top round, roasted in house, matched with a horseradish mustard dressing, marinated onions and arugula on ‘rustic bread.’ I’m never exactly sure what something like ‘rustic’ means, but I in this case it seemed to mean a roll with a respectable but not overly tough crust, and that was a touch that made all the difference. A tough roll could have easily made eating this a chore, with all manner of filling creep. But the crust was chewy yet yielding, and it made the sandwich delightful overall. The beef is tender and juicy, the dressing spicy and flavorful, (but, as always, could have used more horseradish) and the arugula well present. Look at how much lettuce is in that sandwich! That’s no obligatory greenery, friends, that’s a part of the sandwich. The marinated onions were a bit more scarce, sadly, and in a lot of bites of the sandwich they were hardly there at all. In a different sandwich that might have bothered me, but this was fine with or without them.

Enough about what was on the sandwich, I’d like to note what wasn’t: cheese. I’ve spoken many times about the required slice of cheese, the inveterate sense that without a piece of cheese, something isn’t a sandwich. This is hogwash, of course, but I’ve been to more places than I can count who put cheese on everything in sight, practically throwing a slice at you as you walk in the door. Enough. Clementine is smart enough to realize that there’s enough here, that no cheese is necessary, that it would either be lost in the rest of the sandwich or simply gum up the works, and so they leave it off. That was downright decent of them, and I cannot thank them enough.

Atun Escabeche – Churros Calientes, Santa Monica Blvd, Los Angeles

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Here is the proper way to cook a fresh piece of tuna: Get a skillet. Get it nice and hot, add a little oil. On the other side of your kitchen, place your tuna fish on a clean plate. Lift the plate and point it at the hot stove. Count to three. Cross the room, shut the burner off, then return to and eat your tuna.

This is not the method followed at Churros Calientes, sadly, much to the detriment of the sandwich. There is a certain tragedy inherent in tuna, as I have noted before, and that’s in a well-cooked piece. Overcooked, the pathos becomes too much to handle. This was a fine piece of meat, and it gained much from a flavorful herb/spice/vinegar marinade. I really wanted to like this sandwich. But all flavor played second to the dry, mealy tuna, the result of much too much heat. There’s no saving something like that. An inherent tragedy is one thing, but a willful one is something very different.

(Though it is outside the purview of this blog, I would like to note that the churros at Churros Calientes are phenomenal. Really stellar churros, well worth going out of your way.)

Ahi Burger – Library Ale House, Main St, Santa Monica

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The tuna steak sandwich might be my absolute favorite thing to order, though it is not my favorite sandwich. It’s a risk/reward proposition, the cut of meat is so tremendously easy to ruin, but so sublime when done well. As you can see by the photo, the folk at Library Ale House know what they’re doing. The slice of tuna in their ahi burger is firm and moist, not quite thick enough for the warm-outside-cool-center that marks the very best sandwiches, but quite good nonetheless. The tuna is joined on the bun by asian slaw with a bit of heat to it, a citrus ponzu dressing and wasabi aioli. That’s not an especially adventuresome lineup, but it’s one that’s certain to be delicious. There’s a sweetness, some spice to counter that, and the slaw is a fine textural contrast.

I try to keep things positive around here, but I cannot speak of tuna fish without noting that someday they will all be gone. As I have noted this before:

Tuna is a fine, fine meat and some day when our grandchildren ask us what it was like I think it will be our great shame to tell them that most of the tuna we ate was dry, coming out of a can only to be drowned in mayonnaise, gussied up into fully moldable slop.

That may be what’s coming, but it is not what is yet here. Today we still have sandwiches like the above, and I am ever so grateful to have them.

Bulgogi Cheesesteak (Gogi Hoagie) – Sandwich Shop, W 6th St, Los Angeles

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sandwichshopI’ve talked before about the difference between something like a cafe, where sandwiches are on offer, and a sandwich shop. As you might imagine, I prefer the establishments were sandwiches are the sole focus, but I also hold them to a higher standard. When I came upon one literally named Sandwich Shop, I worried that I might be setting myself up for disappointment. That turned out not to be the case, though, as I found instead the best cheesesteak I’ve ever had.

Thinly shaved rib-eye is the cut of choice, naturally, and it has plenty of the sweet-salty-savory flavor from the bulgogi marinade. The provolone played smoothy in the background, and the jalapeños were just the right amount of heat. The cheesesteak is a simple number, and there’s no great revolution here. Just a few tasty things put together in a classic form, with a very very tasty end result.

Now, I have been known to get bent out of shape over the reinvention of archetypes, and most recently I have objected most strenuously to non-traditional bánh mìs. But I didn’t mind the updated vision on display at the Sandwich Shop, and I’m not sure I can state with certainty why that is. It is entirely possible that I am simply a hypocrite, that my attachment to the bánh mì takes over my head and, having no such attachment to the city of Philadelphia or its chosen emblem, I just don’t care. But there is another reading that is more charitable towards myself, and that’s simply that this was a very good sandwich. Of the two bánh mìs linked above, one fails at being a bánh mì and the other fails at being delicious. Those are fair grounds to cast them aside, in my estimation, and by that standard the sandwich pictured above is more than welcome. I can see no way in which it betrays the fundamental cheesesteak aesthetic, and as such I found it delightful. If some fan of Philadelphia wishes to point out some flaw that I have missed, I encourage them to do so.

Lomo – Marcona Restaurant, Melrose Ave, Los Angeles, CA

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lomoIt’s not at all clear to me why the lomo comes with a full third of the filling spilled out between the two halves of the sandwich. Perhaps the bakery was short on properly sized rolls. I’ve griped before about being served a sandwich that has already surrendered to falling apart, but there was no fork in sight. It was simply a sandwich, plus a small pile of stuff. Maybe that would be enough to raise my ire on some days, but the day I visited Marcona wasn’t one of them. Of course, the fact that I was served a delicious sandwich goes a long way in mitigating any nosense in the serving. The lomo is spiced pulled pork, parsnips, onion, date mustard, arugula and manchego cheese on ciabatta. The cheese wasn’t really necessary, an issue I’ve discussed at length, but it also wasn’t objectionable. The pork is the real winner here, but really the whole lineup is worth praising. It’s always nice to see something like pulled pork out of its standard context, the date mustard has a pleasantly sweet backbone, the parsnips and onions providing a contrast in texture, but not aggressively so. The arugula has that peppery bite to it, which is more than welcome given the richness of the pork. Each ingredient played its assigned part, and together they made for well more than the sum of their parts. The first quality is balance, the second is harmony, and together they make for an excellent sandwich.

The Mousa – Storefront Deli, Hollywood Blvd, Los Feliz

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storefront deliStorefront Deli is another establishment with more than its fair share of hype, and the reputation is not entirely undeserved. It’s run by the same people responsible for Salt’s Cure, which I understand to be a fine restaurant that routinely puts out all manner of delicious, exciting food. Storefront Deli, as the name indicates, is an attempt to give that spirit an everyday sort of veneer, to make a supremely innovative potato salad available all the time, on demand. The ingredients are lovingly sourced and even more lovingly prepared, with plenty of house-cured this and that. In the Mousa’s case it’s salami cotto, bologna, sopressata and provolone on a fairly-soft roll with hots, red onion and lettuce.

This is a very good sandwich, and it costs $12. Sandwiches in Los Angeles are expensive relative to a lot of other places, and there have been plenty of sandwiches on this blog that cost that and more where I haven’t found the price worth mentioning. It’s worth mentioning here, though, for the very simple reason that this sandwich is almost certainly not worth $12.

Some time ago I covered what I consider the platonic ideal of the grinder, and this sandwich should not be confused with that one. This one is dealing with more subtle flavors, putting forth a much smaller serving and asking the consumer to pay attention to the details. Those details are exceptionally well crafted, and the result is likely as good as this sort of sandwich is likely to get. But they’re still just cold cuts. Some associates may disagree with me on this, but at the end of the day bologna is still bologna. The ceiling on lunch meat just isn’t that high, and that isn’t likely to change despite the efforts of well-intentioned artisans.

So the thing is that the $12 price may be entirely justified. It may even be necessary—making money in the restaurant game is no small task, and I begrudge no one their need to set prices where they need to in order to succeed. With the highest-quality meats being brought in, and much time and care put into their preparation, it seems reasonable to me that this sandwich would be more expensive than a similar sort of sandwich that doesn’t have the detailed quite so well thought out. But the question of whether or not the price is justified has to come second to the question of whether or not it’s worth it. In my estimation, it’s not. All the care and attention in the world does not save cold cuts from being cold cuts, and if all that care and attention means you end up with a $12 sandwich, I’l be seeking my sandwiches elsewhere.

Banh Mi – Ink Sak, Melrose Ave, Los Angeles, CA

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Here is a notable fact about this sandwich: I couldn’t taste the cilantro. This is a banh mi, ostensibly, and I couldn’t taste the cilantro. Forget the categorical distinction: This was something with cilantro on it, and I couldn’t taste the cilantro. It’s a mystery to me how one would even eliminate the assertive, floral taste of cilantro, but the sandwich world is nothing if not full of surprises.

This is another cute take on the banh mi, and instead of the traditional delight of a sandwich I got something that was cold, bland, and had chicharrónes on it for some reason. I’m not categorically against taking a sandwich archetype and re-imagining it, but for goodness’ sake if you’re going to do such a thing, do it well. Mendocino Farms also pulled this stunt and missed the mark, but at least they ended up with a decent sandwich. Ink Sak has quite a reputation, but nothing I sampled suggested to me that they deserve it.

Short Rib and Mac and Cheese – Lemonade, Los Angeles, CA

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lemonadeLemonade is a Los Angeles chain, a cafeteria-style eatery built around a variety of salads and braised meats. They also do sandwiches, most of which appear to be straightforward offerings with faith in their own simplicity. The short rib mac & cheese is a good example, as it’s nothing but pot-roasted short ribs and a helping of macaroni and cheese grilled between two thin sheets of ciabatta bread. There’s really very little bread at all, just a pair of crusts.

I talk a lot about how awful things can be when someone just aims for ‘good enough.’ To my mind, being content with mediocre is unforgivable, and it would be easy to see this sandwich as committing just such a sin. It doesn’t, however, and escaping that fate is a result of some subtle touches. The bread is a good example of what they’re doing right, as it neatly avoids the pitfalls of starch on a sandwich.

Most sandwiches deal strictly with a starch / something else / starch setup, and the reason they do that is because it’s what works. Bread, a contrasting substance, and more bread. That’s what a sandwich is. Adding a starch in the middle throws the whole balance off, and while many successful sandwiches incorporate some manner of starch (fried potatoes, usually), it’s a higher degree-of-difficulty. Lemonade solves this problem simply by stripping the bread to its bare essentials. There’s no fluff, very little chew, it’s just enough to hold things together. That’s the kind of thing that shows someone really thought this sandwich through. They didn’t simply slap two delicious ingredients together and call it a day. That makes all the difference, and ultimately one can hardly be accused of settling for good enough when the result is genuinely great.

Brentwood – Roast Deli & Market, Brentwood Village, Los Angeles

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When I left San Jose, I did so with a mournful note about leaving the bánh mì behind. It wasn’t that I wouldn’t be able to get them in LA, I noted, it was just that they wouldn’t be abundant. My early experience living in Southern California has borne that out, but it isn’t as if the place is a wasteland. Los Angeles has its own specialties, things that seem to appear on more menus than not. Pastrami is one of them, and brisket is another.

It’s brisket that fills the Brentwood sandwich at Roast Deli and Market. Tender, falling-apart slices of beef brisket join coleslaw, russian dressing and spicy mustard on Bavarian rye bread. That’s a fine lineup, and in concept I find very little with which to quibble. In execution, though, there are a few things that could have used some improvement. The mustard could have been spicier, but that’s some matter of taste and in any event a small matter. A bigger issue is the coleslaw.

With the brisket so delightfully soft in texture, the coleslaw plays a vital role in the sandwich. It offers contrast in texture, something with a bit of crunch to it to load the front of the bite, yielding then to the rich meat. It’s a simple but effective setup, but where Roast goes wrong is in mincing their coleslaw. It’s tough to make out in the photo, but there’s much too fine a dice on the coleslaw, leaving no substantial snap to offer contrast. And that’s too bad, because this could have been a very fine sandwich. The meat is juicy, the other flavors are well-balanced and highlight the meat, but ultimately the error in execution results in a disappointing sandwich.

Braised Short Rib – Fundamental LA, Westwood Blvd, Los Angeles, CA

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I’ve talked about Fundamental LA before, and what I found there last time was so delightful that a second trip was never in question. Thinking back to the braised short rib I enjoyed so much at Little Chef Counter, I elected for the sandwich of the same name at Fundamental. Aside from the name and the primary ingredient, though, neither sandwich has much in common with the other. In Fundamental’s case, it’s braised short rib with go chu jang, dandelion greens, pickled mung beans and garlic aioli on brioche.

That’s not your average lineup for a sandwich, and as with any stand-out sandwich lineup, there’s an implicit statement. In this case, I would venture that anyone who puts pickled mung beans on their sandwich is loudly proclaiming that they know what they’re doing. It’s a bold, almost pungent flavor and it would be all too easy for them to overwhelm a sandwich, even one anchored with the deep richness of short ribs. In this case, things are tempered by not only the beef but dandelion greens (an underrated source of richness when handled properly) and go chu jang, a fermented chili paste that brought exactly the kind of heat needed to corral the other flavors.

In short, the sandwich was phenomenal. Pickled mung beans on a sandwich are a promise, a pledge not to screw things up. Fundamental LA delivers.