Spring is the Dominion of Birds

With spring well on its way, I feel like I'm living in the middle of a gigantic aviary. Surrounding the house, a dozen different birds zoom about, from doves building nests to small sparrowish birds fighting mid-air for precious territory, their wings fluttering against each other like a thousand swords clashing. Or perhaps they're mating. Courtship can seem more battle than love, anguish a certain hue.

For the most part, the birds ignore me as part of the useless background. And sometimes I wonder if I shouldn't be a bit more helpful. Like when I'm watching the doves squeal frantically as they carry heavy sticks from one side of the property to the other, resting on a lower limb to gather strength before making that last surge up to their building site. It's hard to resist helping, piling up a handful of sturdy twigs at the base of their site and hoping they'll see my act as helpful and not hostile. But it's hard to know and ignorance brings inertia, so instead, I sit on my garden chair, reading my book, finally falling deaf to the hum of birds until, from my peripheral vision, I see color and motion, and I look up, face to face with a hummingbird. Startled, I can't help yelping. The bird jumps back a foot — I expect it to fly away, but it doesn't, hovering midair, staring at me with great curiosity, a beautiful little rust colored thing — and it's strange, how I get this funny feeling I'm in a Disney cartoon and laugh as the bird flies away.

Dan Sung Sa

One of the things I love about living in LA is Koreatown. And what I love about Koreatown is that it's vast, not just in size, but in the variety of its offerings. Department stores, florists, rice cake shops, coffee houses, bars, bakeries, restaurants. And the restaurants run from the banal to the latest exports from Seoul. In between are the time capsules, like Dan Sung Sa. Stepping into this tavern is like stepping into Seoul circa 1970s.

We went last night and had a fun time drinking lots of soju (which is the main point of going to places like Dan Sung Sa) and eating things like hagfish. What's hagfish? Some sort of primitive eel like thing, I later found out. I got it because the waiter insisted it was a much better option than eel. At first, I figured he was just trying to get me to buy a much more expensive dish, but then he told me the eel comes pre prepared from the supplier and the only thing the cooks do is nuke it. Well, just the thought of nuked eel made me blanch so I said, okay, I'll try it. Yes, it was much more expensive at around $12, but wow, it was worth it. Tasted sort of like really savory, crispy pork, and it's served with perilla leaves, which you wrap around the little pieces. The perilla leaves are brilliant because they add a nice astringent, minty flavor while taking away some of the grease. Mmm! Mmm! Good!

As we left for the night, we witnessed some great comedy at the parking lot. Two groups were waiting for the valets to deliver their cars. One very drunk guy says to another guy, "Look, Sir, your car is nowhere here. Because you didn't bring a car!" The other guy patiently explains that his car isn't at the parking lot because the valets have to bring it, but no, the drunk guy is soooo sure he knows what's going on and keeps insisting, "Sir, you didn't drive your car here! I know what's going on! See! No car! Your car isn't here! Sir, let me explain this to you! Look! No car!"

Now that's atmosphere.

BTW, I noticed on places like Yelp that a lot of people are upset by the fact that people smoke cigarettes at Dan Sung Sa. Yes, it's illegal, but you have to understand what you're getting into at places like DSS and just go with the flow. Remember, you've stepped into a time capsule. If you suddenly find the opportunity of going back to the Roaring 20s and visiting a speakeasy, would you complain that they're serving liquor?

Dan Sung Sa
3317 W 6th St
Los Angeles, CA 90020
(213) 487-9100

Trader Joe's

This month, a Trader Joe's opened up in my neighborhood. I'd been to a TJ once before but wasn't too impressed. But since a TJ was now going to be within walking distance of the homestead, I thought I should give them another try. I'm glad I did. TJ, for those of you who aren't familiar with one, is a grocery chain that specializes in selling its own brands of food, everything from beers to frozen coissants, at reasonable prices. The problem with TJ is that their store brand items are totally hit-or-miss. Like their cheeses: sucks. I bought a Monterey Jack that wouldn't melt and was tasteless. Their "Parmesan" cheese crumbled so badly, it was impossible to grate, and had an icky taste. Their gyozas aren't much better: I tasted the Thai vegetable gyoza and the filling was gluey. Yuk. And I'd stay away from their toilet paper or tissue, unless you're seriously into self-harming or get off sandpapering your body parts. I dunno — that works for some people. I'm not judging.

BUT, I like their frozen tamales. Good flavor and so handy to have around. And, surprisingly, their frozen chocolate croissants work. Okay, they're really not croissants — they have yeast in it for god's sake — but they do bake up nice and crispy (although a tad greasy) and the chocolate isn't bad. I will also give them BIG bonus points because TJ included two bars of chocolate instead of a measly one (I get so upset about this, I actually joined the Facebook cause crying for the inclusion of two bars in every chocolate croissant). I also love the fact that it comes in such a tiny package (my freezer is minuscule) but bake up so big and fat and fluffy.

So, being a newbie to Trader Joe's, I have to ask: what's good at Trader Joe's? what should be avoided? Please comment!

Oh! Here's a fun video about TJ from Carls Fine films.

Pastrami Heaven

Before moving to LA, I'd always thought New York was pastrami heaven. I now realize LA is pastrami heaven. In New York, pastrami is something you find in Jewish delis. And God forbid, you eat it in any other form except as a sandwich on rye with mustard. In LA, pastrami is everywhere. At hot dog stands, hamburger joints, taco eateries. And it's in everything, from burritos to double dips. A pastrami burrito? How good is that, you might ask? I have to admit, I haven't had any good examples. There's a famous one at the Oki Dog on Pico, but I couldn't see the point of it all (it was huge, with a lot of cabbage so it was like a pastrami stir-fry wrapped in a giant tortilla). Much more successful is the concoction at Oinkster, a huge pastrami sandwich on a bun dripping with red slaw and gruyere cheese.

Does that mean LA pastrami is inferior to New York's? Not at all. In fact, my all-time favorite pastrami is at Langer's. Langer's pastrami is sliced thick and framed with succulent fat — the prime rib of pastrami. And their rye bread is fantastic. I also like the pastrami at Greenblatt's, which is more like the New York deli kind, sliced thinner, a bit drier, but absolutely addictive. With Pastrami King now Pastrami Queen and Second Avenue Deli no longer Second Avenue Deli, there seems to be less and less things I miss about New York.

Swingers Coffee Shop

Last night the GD and I were eating hamburgers at Swingers and we were invaded by the most gorgeous, hip young guys you'll ever see. It was Night of the Living Dead, only, in this case, Night of the Unbelievably Gorgeous Twenty-something Guys. They were too short to be models so I'm guessing they were a mix or actors, musicians, and designers. Anyway, even for Hollywood, surreal.

Swingers is the coffee shop connected to the Beverly Laurel Hotel. Because they're close to Hollywood and because they're open until 4 in the morning, they have a reputation for good people-watching, especially around 2. They're also known for good hamburgers, which is why we were there (also, almost everything else was either too packed or closed -- why is Arby's closed at 9?). The menu is huge, from breakfast to steaks, all reasonably priced. The root beer float was only $3.95, which is the cheapest I've come across. Even DuPar's charges something around $6.00. And the atmosphere wasn't too bad either. Lots of cozy booths just big enough for two, a wrap-around bar, friendly staff, grab-you-own-menus-and-sit-yourself attitude. A really fun place.

Swingers
8020 Beverly Boulevard
Los Angeles, CA 90048
(323) 653-5858

www.swingersdiner.com/

LA's Stealth On Ramps

Who would have thought you needed a map of LA highway entrances like you need a map of the stars' homes? Only in LA are highway entrances like secret nightclubs with members only passes. I'm used to highway entrances being announced with huge hoopla. I'm used to highway entrances looking like highway entrances. In LA, highway entrances come up slyly. You're on top of them before you know it, and the only way you know it's a highway entrance is because the GPS keeps screaming at you to turn left. Only then do you see a small "freeway" sign just out of your sight of vision. And even then, you don't trust the sign because the entrance is just a tiny road that looks like it's going to deadend into a private parking lot (or worse). No lights, no nothing. Just a dark curve, which, like a bad dream, merges instantly into a busy highway.

For a city that was built around the car, LA doesn't make much sense. Every nightmare scenario in my Driver's Ed class has come true, and then some. I hope Beijing looks at LA and goes screaming back to bicycles.

Me vs Humanity

With the worsening economy, our neighborhood is suddenly becoming the favorite parking spot of the indigent. It's a nice, cozy neighborhood, safe to park at, but also near enough to busy traffic so you wouldn't stick out like a sore thumb. I think about what it would be like, living in your car, hoping to remain invisible enough to survive. But, of course, there's also the fear, of who these people are, how safe the neighborhood is becoming. The other day, the guy living out of his white van came up to our house and started taking water out of the outside tap. He was hostile and unpleasant. Who wouldn't be, living out of a van, having to steal water? I'm bitchy if lunch is an hour late. Still, we felt like it was a good idea to report this to the police. Our water bill is huge and theft is theft and where is that fine line of self-protection versus social good?

This morning our friendly local police officer knocked on our door and lectured us on safety: pretend you have a dog, don't confront strangers, don't give out information, always lock the door, don't hesitate to use pepper spray, etc. He'd worked on Skid Row for a number of years and knew all the scams. His message was clear: no good deed goes unpunished. Therefore, do not feed the indigents. Do not show kindness. It made me think of the Luis Bunuel film Viridiana, where a virtuous, kind young woman opens up her house to the homeless only to be despised and raped by the very people she was trying to help. But, isn't the counter-weight to that George Orwell's Down and Out in Paris and London? Orwell will forever change the way you look at the indigent.

I guess even kindness is complicated. And I started thinking about living in New York and that time a middle-aged businessman came up to me and asked me for money. He had a sad, if unoriginal, story. He was at Rockefeller Center and lost his wallet — he thought someone had stolen it. He needed to get home to New Jersey. Would I lend him the cost of the train ticket home, because he would mail me back a check as soon as he got home? Of course I knew instantly I was being scammed and on most days I would have walked quickly away, my hands firmly gripping my should bag. But this time, maybe my blood sugar was really low, I started thinking: was I really 100% sure? Wasn't there a 1% chance that he was telling the truth, and I, as a human being, should help this person out? So I went to the nearest ATM and withdrew the money, money I, as a poor freelance fact-checker, really needed myself, and even gave him a subway token to Penn Station. The man looked at me with wonder and what looked like pain in his eyes. Strangely, I didn't feel conned, I didn't feel stupid. I had this firm belief that I had done the right thing. I suppose, in the end, what I was really betting on was my own humanity. After all, we are scammed and conned every day, by big conglomerates, local businessmen, insurance agents — let's not even start with politicians — and it's so hard to find a way to go against this tide that seems so universal and so timeless. To say, hey, can't we be better than this? And maybe (probably a small maybe), the man, seeing my humanity, was confronted with his.