The neon orange chicken that made Dino’s
The trouble with franchise food is it is standardized to the average taste. To appeal to the largest number of people, it must be salty but not to salty, savory but not too savory, sweet but not too sweet.
In three words: bland, boring, blech.
And so I’m on the quest to try all non-franchise food in LA. My quest brought me to the heart of LA’s gangland, where your stomach needs to be a strong as your courage, to Dino’s Chicken & Burgers. This neighborhood is defined more by the Playboy gang that dominates here than by the cartographers, who have dubbed it Pico Union.
Manfood, my buddies say.
Pay no attention to the hyperbole: the danger is fake news. The real news is the unique zing of prison-jumpsuit-neon-orange sauce charbroiled onto chicken that makes almost everything else on the menu irrelevant. Called pollo maniaco (maniacal chicken), this is the one-of-a-kind concoction is the 1968 maniacal brainchild of Greek immigrant Demetrios Pantazis, which makes it at least partly Greek in origin.
DUI Fries at Dino’s Chicken & Burgers in Los Angeles.
As this was my first time to Dino’s, I was instructed what to do: get extra sauce on the fries. I watched from the window of this prodigious hole-in-the-wall wonder as they slopped two splashes of the chicken sauce on the fries (with a thick and wide paint brush from Home Depot) that made for the soggiest fries I’ve ever eaten. Normally, soggy fries are a disaster, but Dino’s has flouted conventional wisdom and conjured up one of the Seven Wonders of the Culinary World.
The portions are huge. The price is small. It’s served in foam boxes. The seats are hard. Who cares?
What more could you want?
But there is more. I had to try the DUI Fries. A plate of fries is covered in a layer of cheese, a layer of carne asada and a layer of pastrami. They christened this mouthwatering mess “Dino’s Ultimate Invention.” And I drove home under its influence, a tad of indigestion.
This is pure madness manfood, as my buddies said. Sure girls are welcome, but be warned: this type of gluttony and sensory overload and gut-busting has a price tag. Entirely worth the pilgrimage.
Dino’s Chicken & Burgers
2575 W. Pico Blvd.
Los Angeles, CA 90006
213-380-3554
$
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We recently went to the Marina Del Rey Wahoo’s with the full squad, even the terrible teen who unleashes his fury easily, to evaluate a spread of items. Naturally, Wahoo’s earned top marks, though not universally.
Rob ordered the burrito, which he flunked for being small and expensive. Hosea ordered by accident the wrong thing and said he usually is a huge believer in the Wahoo’s burrito.
Wing Lam can still be see driving around Los Angeles in his Ferrari. Invariably, he dresses surfer garb and wears long hair. He’s the face of the company.
Wahoo’s distances itself from fastfood culture; a server will always come to your table to make sure everything is OK.
Famous for movies and music, Hollywood is great too for munchies. It turns out all those stars — and would-be celebrities — like foreign fare, evocative entrees, daring dainties.
The Thai food eatery is aptly decorated with Thai Buddhas — thinner than the Chinese versions — and golden furbelow. The interior decorating is tasteful, the food even more so.
My friend Andrew ordered and we shared yellow curry chicken and pad Thai noodles with ground peanuts. This is the sort of stuff you look for in a Thai restaurant — a clean break from meat and potatoes.
There are entrees that beckon: Crying Tiger Angus ribeye with spicy dipping sauce, Siamese Fish crispy fried in tamarind-chili sauce, Lamb Curry stewed in Mussamum curry, Tom Yum spicy hot and sour lemongrass soup, Rot Paratha for dessert.
It’s an intimate eatery on the west edge of the Hollywood Walk of Fame.
After climbing Mount Watermen, we three men were hungry. “Monster” burgers were the order of the day.
My serendipitous discovery came as it usually does, by way of a local. Wanna find good grub without Yelp? Ask a local.
Crispy asparagus fries. Deviled eggs with bacon. Truffle fries. Fish and chips with jalapeño tartar. Chilled gazpacho. Burrato-tomato caprese. Sesame-almond crusted salmon. Short rib street tacos. Popcorn curry chicken.
(Whimper. I’m growing hungry as I write.)
I’m normally a fries guy, but Nathan Williams was from Salt Lake City where soup is the thing, and he had a picture from the last time. He showed me. That was that. It looked more mouth-watering than the fries.
Mercifully, the menu is one large page. Just one. If it were more, I would probably need to go this restaurant for the rest of my life to sample all the goodies.
Central Grille has one-upped the competition. They’ve shown that you need to do more than just an “e” to the end of “Grill” if you want first-timers to become faithful.
Waterman Mountain in the Angeles National Forest, about an hour north of Glendale, was an exhilarating hike with snow and ice. I won’t need to be a famished mountainman to seek the eatery again.
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Ice cream specialty shops abound. So when you find something special, it’s a rare gem.
This is POPS Artisanal Creamery in the City of San Fernando. They offer a sundae in a half coconut. They make their own ice cream with some rocking originals.
The exotic flavors are Latin variations. You don’t have as many options as competitors La Michoacana, but the ice creams are made to the American taste, not according to the Mexican formula. Which means, I like them better.
I learned a thing about exotic ice creams when I went to BAE, which offers unthinkable flavors like Coco Puffs Chocolate and Charcoal Cleanse. Only problem with BAE is that they don’t taste good.
To be fair, I didn’t try the spicy cucumber, so it would be wrong for me to endorse it here. But I did the sweet cream corn ice cream, which Martin said was his grandfather’s recipe, and it was delicious.
The proprietor, Martin Ken, is a handsome guy with light eyes from Belize. He’s slightly chubby, proof that he is a connoisseur of creams. He gives an individual attention and care to every customers, talking freely, answering questions, giving samples.
As a matter of fact, it was me who called it quits on the sample porque me apené. (Sorry for the Spanish, but I thought it might be apropos given the Latin neighborhood and the Latin flavors.) I think I sampled four separate creams before deciding, with my wife, for the super nutty walnut and the sharp coffee. (I say “sharp” because the coffee flavor is quite strong and tastes like a legit cup of joe — way better than your average coffee ice cream.)
Martin shaved the inside of half coconut and left the shavings in the bottom. Then he scooped in our two flavors, sprayed on whipped cream, gingerly applied chocolate syrup and topped it off with a mascherino cherry and a little parasol normal for cocktails. That parasol was a little bit of fun, an attractive, playful touch that shows signature caring.
He talks knowledgeably of creams from around the Caribbean. He talks about his family history with creams-making. He talks about his plans to open a second store in New Hall, to the North. He talks…. He talks friendly.
Nihari House is pure fire — and it’s not a rap flow.
In my quest to try all the most exotic ethnic food in Los Angeles, I wound up in Nihari House in Arleta (in the Central Northern San Fernando Valley.)
Because of her no-non sense recommendation, I tried the nihari, the house specialty. It is beef shank slow-simmered in chili oil for seven hours or so. The gravy is hot, hot, hot. There was no need to throw in the chopped jalapeño on the side. To squeeze in lemon juice would have pushed the acidic levels into radioactive. (Excuse the hyperbole, but I’m 52 and can’t take too much spicy anymore. Fortunately, there was a remedy.) It was delicious.
My wife got the lamb Lamb Karahi, which came in its own Pakastani wok (I didn’t know they had their own woks!). And that was just as hot. It wasn’t until the chef, an affable slightly overweight guy, came out to check if everything was up to our satisfaction. He explained that we could have ordered a less spicy version. It certainly gives me confidence in a restaurant if the chef himself comes out to check on our enjoyment.
Fortunately, there was an answer to the chili power. It was the mango yogurt drink to neutralize acids in the stomach. Even if you don’t need to chill the heat, this drink is absolutely worth the experiment. It’s delicious and different.
I thought that Mexicans were the hot chili pepper-eating champions of the world. (I remember in Mexico City seeing a 4-year-old eating a jalapeño all by itself as if it were a banana. He didn’t cry until he accidentally wiped his eyes with his fingers.) Now I know that the Pakistanis are right up there competing.
Rumor has it that the time to hit India’s Tandoori Hollywood is for lunch. That’s when the buffet goes for $12.00. So you can sample every taste of India for a paltry sum. I was told it was Punjabi food, from Northern India.
My friend and I came for dinner, so we only got one entry each. I got the Green Coconut Chicken with mild curry, and my buddy ordered Chicken Tikka Masala.
While we waited for the food, the waiter brought a super thin cracker-like bread made of lentils. Yep, lentils. I wasn’t expecting it to be salty. Perhaps because it was salty, it gave me the impression of being the Indian equivalent of Mexican chips as an appetizer.
I was quick to try each of the condiments: mint (not sweet), diced carrots and chili (not too spicy) and plum sauce with sesame seeds (which looked like it was spicy but wasn’t).
This is what you go to Indian food for: a slathering of thick gravy spiced up with the herbs that made the Indies the destination for traders in the Age of Exploration. There are curries, green sauces, red sauces, brown sauces, yummy sauces, hot sauces and ones that will send you to the bathroom.
Ahem. Excuse me. I shouldn’t talk about such an unappetizing topic while discussing the appetizing concerns of this restaurant.
In any case, Indian food is my new Mexican food.
Because we ordered it a la carte, we didn’t get rice. We should’ve gotten rice to sop up the sauce with.
But the naan bread did not disappoint. As I have said previously, I don’t like bread. Period. But naan bread, I like. It is slightly crispy on the outside, warm and chewy on the inside. Mmmmmmm.
The secret to Urban Plates, a new concept chain exploding in Los Angeles, is not the taste, the natural ingredients, the decor or the super friendly staff. The secret is the food’s preparation.
Like pioneer of the concept, Tendergreens, Urban Plates has all the food out in front of the customers. There is no need for menus hardly, no need for pretty pictures or enticing words. The enticements are right there in front of your eyes.
You get in line with your train and pick the most succulent, the most inviting items you see. It’s not prepared in the back. Right there, in front of your eyes, the foods are put together in what you order.
Your hunger grows as you wait AND WATCH.
I ordered the “Grilled, grass-fed steak sandwich with slow-roasted tomatoes and chimichurri aioli.” I had loved chimichurri in Latin America as part of the parrilladas, but wondered how it might be added into a sandwich.
I was quite taken aback that the steak was cut into thick slices for my sandwich. It was steak, like it could have been served on a platter with asparagus and mashed potatoes for $19.95, and here generous slices were being cut before my eyes to go into the sandwich.
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No ordinary bread was used, but baked in their own oven.
Once you get your sandwich, salad, soup or entre, you pass by — and are inevitably tempted by — a display case of pastries and cookies. Nothing is ordinary or regular. Everything could have come from an expensive hotel or pricey restaurant for the well-heeled.
There are exotic teas and wines. Forget about going to the local juicery. You will get natural juice mixtures here with no added sugar to pique your palette and keep you slim. I got the acai apple beet & carrot while my buddy got passion fruit coconut lime. His was too tart for me.
Urban Plate Thousand Oaks took pains for their interior decorating. No corner cutting, everything is done by a pro, impressive and attractive.
By the team we received our sandwiches, “Chef Rosendo” showed up at our table and chatted friendly about the decoration (he noticed I took pictures). “I will do anything to make sure your experience here is enjoyable,” he said.
Our eyebrows rose.
Of course we knew about Chik-Fil-A’s custom — and Wahoo’s Tacos’ — of sending personnel around to proactively make sure customers enjoyed their meal. But this was “the chef” — and he took the welcoming to a higher level.
Which is Urban Plates does. It takes others’ successes to a higher level.
On another date, I will have to try to the dinner platter, the soup, the salad and the tempting desserts.
Mustard Seed Budget 