Jewish food spiel #1:
The entire time I lived in Boston, I searched in vain for a good reuben (and/or Kosher pastrami sandwich sans cheese). Nada. I did manage a pretty good one in Greenfield, NY, while being serenaded by a senior citizen dixieland jazz band, but it wasn't quite up to the standards of the Kosher deli near my parents' house. (Be warned: that last link opens up a tacky web page that plays the traditional Jewish party chestnut "Hava Nagila.")
Lo, LA and its many Jews have given me Izzy's.
We wound up at Izzy's at about 2am because it's open 24 hours. It was recommended to me by a blonde from Minnesota, and I ate with people who'd lapsed from various branches of Christianity. The booths were populated by club kids, not old people. It tours itself as "the Deli to the Stars" and is (over)priced accordingly. There are pictures of celebrities on the walls. But I'll be damned if this isn't they didn't get the pastrami reuben exactly right. The pickles were almost up to my high standards, too. And it had lots of pictures of New York City -- you got the feeling most of the ones featuring the World Trade Center had been there much earlier than September 12, 2001.
So it was the food of New Jersey, the late-night college comeraderie/stupidity of O'Rourkes Diner in Connecticut, and the wonderful people-watching after-club munchie vibe of the old Deli Haus (RIP) in Boston, all rolled into one. I felt like I was home, on at least those three levels -- two of which I can never again literally obtain -- and possibly the mystical fourth home level that is southern California.
LA taketh away, but LA giveth.
Jewish food spiel #2:
Must the supermarket insist on carrying Dr. Brown's soda in the "Ethnic" aisle? Yes, I must now go to the ethnic aisle, to purchase the traditional drink of my people! It's got a picture of the Brooklyn Bridge on it, it must be ethnic!
Then again, Dr. Brown's Cel-Ray Soda, like gefilte fish, is apparently one of those things that just don't taste right to you unless you grew up with it. More for me.
Actual ethnic food spiel:
On my first foray into LA's Koreatown, I tried the You & Me Restaurant because it fit all my criteria for eating in Asian neighborhoods (must be cheap, must be full of people of the correct nationality, must not have tablecloths, menu must be predominantly in a foreign language...) The "hot paste cold noodle" cleaned out my sinuses and nearly made me cry. I thought for sure my mouth was bleeding. That's good eatin'. It also came with some evil-smelling Korean mustard and an array of pickled delights I couldn't begin to identify.
Next stop: LA's Thai Town. I haven't had a really great Thai meal for at least a year. Bother!
The entire time I lived in Boston, I searched in vain for a good reuben (and/or Kosher pastrami sandwich sans cheese). Nada. I did manage a pretty good one in Greenfield, NY, while being serenaded by a senior citizen dixieland jazz band, but it wasn't quite up to the standards of the Kosher deli near my parents' house. (Be warned: that last link opens up a tacky web page that plays the traditional Jewish party chestnut "Hava Nagila.")
Lo, LA and its many Jews have given me Izzy's.
We wound up at Izzy's at about 2am because it's open 24 hours. It was recommended to me by a blonde from Minnesota, and I ate with people who'd lapsed from various branches of Christianity. The booths were populated by club kids, not old people. It tours itself as "the Deli to the Stars" and is (over)priced accordingly. There are pictures of celebrities on the walls. But I'll be damned if this isn't they didn't get the pastrami reuben exactly right. The pickles were almost up to my high standards, too. And it had lots of pictures of New York City -- you got the feeling most of the ones featuring the World Trade Center had been there much earlier than September 12, 2001.
So it was the food of New Jersey, the late-night college comeraderie/stupidity of O'Rourkes Diner in Connecticut, and the wonderful people-watching after-club munchie vibe of the old Deli Haus (RIP) in Boston, all rolled into one. I felt like I was home, on at least those three levels -- two of which I can never again literally obtain -- and possibly the mystical fourth home level that is southern California.
LA taketh away, but LA giveth.
Jewish food spiel #2:
Must the supermarket insist on carrying Dr. Brown's soda in the "Ethnic" aisle? Yes, I must now go to the ethnic aisle, to purchase the traditional drink of my people! It's got a picture of the Brooklyn Bridge on it, it must be ethnic!
Then again, Dr. Brown's Cel-Ray Soda, like gefilte fish, is apparently one of those things that just don't taste right to you unless you grew up with it. More for me.
Actual ethnic food spiel:
On my first foray into LA's Koreatown, I tried the You & Me Restaurant because it fit all my criteria for eating in Asian neighborhoods (must be cheap, must be full of people of the correct nationality, must not have tablecloths, menu must be predominantly in a foreign language...) The "hot paste cold noodle" cleaned out my sinuses and nearly made me cry. I thought for sure my mouth was bleeding. That's good eatin'. It also came with some evil-smelling Korean mustard and an array of pickled delights I couldn't begin to identify.
Next stop: LA's Thai Town. I haven't had a really great Thai meal for at least a year. Bother!
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