Restaurants
Najem Al Ekabi sits beneath the forest of red, white, and black Iraqi flags. He’s intent on a video on his laptop. “Look, see?” he says. “The one on the left. That’s me. Winning the …
Over the door is the “dough” — the Chinese ideogram for the Tao (pronounced “doe”), meaning “the way” in general, and in Taoism, the way of the universe. (George Lucas calls it “The Force,” and …
Clock’s ticking toward midnight down here in the deepest Stingaree. I’m heading for Ciro’s, the pizzeria. Why? Because I’ve spent the last couple hours holding up the beautiful old (1885!) Tivoli bar, listening to a …
The E in Exy is actually the Greek letter sigma (for S), so the restaurant’s name really transliterates to something like “Sexy,” and that’s what it’s trying to be. It calls itself “Chic Greek,” and …
“I’ve got troubles,” I say. I’m trying to explain why I’m half an hour late. “Trolley security. Hauled me off the damned train. Lemon Grove. Must have been 20 of them swarming on board. The …
At Farm House Café, chef-owner Olivier Bioteau claims to serve “rustic French cooking.” That he does — if you remember that France is a country where “rustic” and “sophisticated” aren’t contradictory terms. (Paris has no …
“Sweetheart?” coos Carla. “Honey? My heart? Mi corazón?” When Carla slips into Spanish and uses “th” for the z, something’s up. “Uh-huh?” “Call from my brother. He’s launching his book here. That academic book? He’s …
‘I.B.” “O.B.” “I.B.!” “O.B.!!” “OK. How’s about Oceanside?” “I tell you, man,” says Hank. “Nothing beats O.B.” We’re ambling west down Newport, arguing, as per usual. Size, of course. Like, who has the longest pier. …
‘See? Skin on the ends. Never, in Fronce.” That’s how Eric says it, of course. “Fronce.” He’s French. He’s pointing to his French fry. It does have patches of skin at either end. Actually, I …
Block by block, the redeveloping East Village (which I nicknamed “E-Ville” when it all started) is indeed becoming a high-rise, high-priced condo neighborhood, complete with virulent NIMBYism surrounding the remnants of its former identity, including …
Help me out here. Why is the state of Virginia called a commonwealth? And who was Virginia? And, oh yeah. Do Virginians make crazy omelets like this, with two hamburger patties and a bunch of …
Sushi lovers think of sea urchin roe as the Japanese delicacy called uni, a coral-colored, spongy-velvety, sexy-tasting maritime fluff perched atop a puck of seasoned rice. Few Americans realize that it’s also savored worldwide wherever …
The vapors, the vapors. Oh, man. Me thinketh I shall swoon. Unlike Bill Clinton, I inhale deeply. Rose aromas? Cardamom? Honey? It sits steaming under my schnozz here at the granite-top counter as I wait …
No, to answer everybody’s first question, the flashy new Gaslamp Nobu is no relation to our sweet and humble Solana Beach Nobu, owned by Nobu Tsushita. For better or worse, our Nobu-sur mer merely shares …
This restaurant is closed. “We’re opportunivores,” says Brian. “No,” says Jake. “We’re freegans. Like vegans, but only when it’s free.” Everybody’s sitting around two tables here inside Roots, chatting to stop the teeth from chattering. …