Page 78 - Esquire - USA (Winter 2020)
P. 78

No.                                                                                                 No.



                     18                                  and its countless pretenses, this chill, female-                21
                                                              If you have grown weary of “gastronomy”

                                                         fronted hangout might be your end-of-the-
                                                         decade antidote. Natural wines get generous
                                                         pours. Chewy sourdough, baked in-house and
                                                         drenched obscenely in olive oil, begs for a
                                                         schmear of chicken livers tickled with Madeira.
                                                         Celery (yeah, celery) will be ignored no longer
                                                         after it takes a tumble with dates, pistachios,
                                                         and the pheromonal fish sauce called colatura.
                                                         Baltimore (yeah, Baltimore) can now make
                                                         rightful claim to having the sexiest third-date
                                                         spot in America.

                                                                                  No.


                                                                                 20                        kinship with artichokes, but it’s pretty easy to
           A  T I P   O F  T H E
           H AT TO  T H E                                                                                      All it said on the menu was “braised arti-
           O L D   S C H O O L                                                                             choke.” (Having grown up in California, I feel a
           AT  R E D   H O O K
             TAV E R N .                                                                                   mess them up. I have learned to accept disap-

                                                                                                           pointment.) Guess what. I have never had a more
                                                                                                           perfect artichoke than the one I wolfed down
                                                                                                           during lunch one afternoon at Green Almond
                                                                                                           Pantry. The place is a counter with only eight
                                                                                                           stools, but chef Cagla Onal, who grew up in
                                                                                                           Turkey, seems to treat each salad and dip and
                                                                                                           Mediterranean sandwich and roasted vegetable
                                                                                                           with the sort of loving care you’d expect from
                                                                                                           l’Arpège in Paris. I later emailed Onal about the
                                                                                                           braised artichoke, and she sent me a delicate,
                                                                                                           multistep recipe involving olives, lemon peel,
                                                                                                           parsley, mint, and sweet onion. Always remem-
                                                                                                           ber: “Simple” doesn’t mean “easy,” and the size
                                                                                                           of a place is no indication of its ambition.


                                                                                      Here’s the plan.
                                                                                  Grab a long table
                                                                                  during lunchtime at
       No.
                                                                                  Vivian Ku’s bright Tai-
                                                                                  wanese canteen and
                                                                                  order everything. The
                              19                                                  sandwiches with pork
                                                                                  dan dan noodles, the
                                                                                  belly and five-spice
                                                                                  beef, the thousand-
                                                                                  layer pancake with
                                                                                  egg and cheese—all
                                                                                  of it practically shim-
                                                                                  mering with just-
                                                                                  cooked freshness.
                                                                                  Eat. Then roll a few           T H E   G R E E N
                                                                                                               B E A N   S A L A D   AT
                                                                                  frames at Highland           G R E E N   A L M O N D
                                                                                  Park Bowl so that you           PA N T RY.
                                                                                  can work up an appe-
                                                                                  tite for a second go.




                                                                                                                    Step through the door of the
                                                                                                              windowless building in Culver City and get
                                                                                                                 time-warped to a bygone Hollywood
            Allison Plumer is cooking what you want to eat when                                                 era of steaks and oysters Rockefeller and
        it’s Friday night and you’d prefer not to ruin your appetite with                                        martinis. Dear John’s, the deliciously
        overthinking. The burger is very good, but what I kept day-                                            retro brainchild of chef Hans Röckenwag-
                                                                                                              ner and his wife and business partner, Patti
        dreaming about after visiting Billy Durney’s ode to the old New
                                                                                                                (chef Josiah Citrin collaborated on the
        York were the croquettes (which tasted like ham and cheese and                                         menu), is a time capsule with a shelf life:
        rye from a corner bodega by way of Barcelona), and the wedge                                            The building will be torn down in April
        salad with a rasher of bacon as big as a baseball bat, and the                                         2021. Go now. At least the memories will
        confidence of the Hemingway daiquiri—as though the bartender                                               last forever. —Kevin Sintumuang
        understands that this is a tavern, damn it, and the cocktails matter.


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