After that simply dreadful meal at Green Street, the Fat Man was most annoyed. His eye was wide with jaundice, his mind full of culinary suspicion and distrust. He perceived this must have been the sort of emotion his associates with "investments' were having at the moment regarding their beloved "market".
The lovely Jeanette, she of sweet enthusiasm, attempted to sooth He of the Quad x Coat, by suggesting that several of her work associates had said there was a new Cafe on Washington that was excellent. The Fat Man was dubious. While he knew Jeanette's work mates gave excellent medical care, he had never actually dined with them. For all he knew, they thought McDonnald's or worse yet, I HOP were excellent places to eat. There are such people, He of Tripple Chins has even met them on occasion. Frightening.
Bliss Cafe? Oh come on! That's got to be beyond the over statement of the decade. What? the joint is a Hooka bar too? That Traveler Nurse from Minnesota thinks its the best Armenian food she has ever had?ROFLOL!!! Dear, PLEASE give a guy a break will ya?
Then Susan and Roberto Quintanna mentioned at a SLICK alumni event how wonderful the Bliss Cafe right near them was. Hmmmmmm Roberto has high standards when it comes to Fish Tacos and all other forms of sea food, and the Roberto Burger Special over at SLICK was one of the best burger's the chubby one has ever delighted his taste buds with. Well,
M A Y B E, Dear......
We were hanging around the house, all the Christmas shopping done, all the house plans turned into various evil building departments for their unwanted exclusion of whatever Art was represented in the various projects, so, it was go to an early dinner with the lovely Jeanette, or do yard work. The food would have to be pretty bad to make yard work the better option, but after the whole eternity of blandness at Green Street a couple days before, I actually thought about it for a second and realized I'd never had any terrible or boring Armenian food, so even if the joint was just average, it was better than yard work. Much better.
Josephine, the '38 Buick was still angry with me over a little pop the clutch incident that broke off the extension on her starter, and she was in no mood to be driven. I couldn't remember where, in my vast work room I had placed her hand crank, and it was too cold to crank up that straight eight, anyhow, so it was off to Washington Blvd. in Goldie the P.T Cruiser, to an area that had been Altadena before the Evil Empire of Pasadena hostily annexed it a few decades ago.
Jeanette drove. She kept telling me how happy I was about to be, generally, if a bed is not involved, a cause for forbodding.
We parked in the back parking lot and walked through the long back hall to the dinning room. The Kitchen door was open. The Fat Man stuck first his curious head and then his upper torso through the doorway. The kitchen was clean. All of the supplies were neatly placed in order. There were no Latinos of questionable paperwork in the kitchen, just two middle aged Armenian men. Hmmmmmm. The Fat Man had hope as Jeanette tugged him out of the doorway and down the rest of the hall to a table. One of the Armenian men from the Kitchen arrived at our table and presented us with menus.
Our Cook/Waiter took our drink order, in this case we each had a delightful fragrant fruity warm tea, and when he arrived with our tea, we ordered and almost instantly, our chef/Waiter arrived back with hummus, Pita Chips, Pita Bread and a delightful cabbage salad in a light vinagrette. The Fat Man was taking in the interior, in the main very spare, painted a warm soothing brown, nice tables, mass produced but still better than a poster, oil paintings of crowds mingling on a street in a faintly fauvist style. Very nice. Comfortable, not silly, not vulgar, cheap or "Oh my God where did the budget go? a very nice understated dining room. There was a nice view out to a exterior dining area where a man was eating amid palms under a canopy and the traffic beyond.
Jeanette ordered Chicken Kabobs, the Multiple Chinned One ordered Beef Kabobs. These were each served on a excellent slightly nutty flavored Rice Pilaf bed. The Beef Kabob had been marinated and was cooked so that just the very edges of the meat where it had been cubed were charred and everything else was a succulent, perfectly textured, slightly garlic informed chunk of the beats beef the fat One has had since Monty's regreatably shuttered its Pasadena doors. Perfection. He of double chins heard food Putti singing and cavorting in his ears as the little angels danced about his tatse buds carrying bits of perfection from bud to bud engaging them in these heavenly moments! As close to bliss as one can get with ones clothing on. Jeanette and I traded a hunk of beef for a hunk of Chicken and the chicken was just as excellent as the beef. WOWSER!!! Susan and Roberto's approval was studied understatement.
Even better, our Kabobs were slightly less than nine bucks each. Yeah, it's practically stealing.
The place deserves its name. I have to go now, I'm going to try the fourteen dollar Lamb Chops!
Oh, Yeah, they serve coffee, Pastry, and also have a Hooka Bar, and I can testify that the Neopolitian is as good as the Beef Kabob, so I'd venture the coffee ain't bad.
Bliss Cafe
Washington Blvd
Pasadena
626 797 2547
Closed monday.
Monday, December 29, 2008
Green Street- Tom Wolfe was right....
That wag of waggotry, Tom Wolfe once boldly proclaimed "You can't go home again, because home is gone." The tripple extra large one hates it when effete New yorkers in white suits are correct. It's so annoying.
In any case, he of the double chins had a long relationship with Green Street Restaurant in Pasadena dating back to the pre-historic times when Green Street was actually a marvelous little hole in the wall ON GREEN STREET, and not bunker in the bottom part of a parking garage. In those bygone days, the kitchen was fully visable from the dinning area, and the dinning area was upholstered in green brocades whose patterns were almost Arts and Crafts and reminded one of a deep forest just as spring is about to turn to summer, full of dense over growth and small budding flowers. That little hole in the wall was never equalled for atmosphere, in spite of many remodels and attempts to do something interesting at the bunker in bottom of the parking garage.
The Fat Man, of course, continued to dine at Green Street for sometime, since he goes for the food, not the atmosphere. Of course, the signature Dianne Salad with Zucchini bread remained a favorite decade after decade, along with the knockwurst, sour cream, avacado and mushroom on grilled bread delight called Stephan's Sandwich, that in spite of the unfortunate spelling, I almost made my favorite for the better part of the early Clinton years.
Something happened. Maybe it was boredom at what one were fresh and exciting recipies now repeated once too many times, or perhaps it was the fourth soggy stale Dianne salad in a row that was the death knell, but the lovely Jeanette and I stopped darkening the door of Green Street. Steak and Dianne wasn't even remotely tempting.
A little flier somehow got to us in the mail noting our anniversary and inviting us to try new dishes at Green Street. Having been married for some twenty seven years, it seemed like some kind of sychronic idea to try something new at an old familiar place.
Jeanette had the new "Smoke and Fire Quesidilla" and I had a "Turkey Tostada" and we shared a "Cherry tart". He of enthusiastic tongue and ever expanding roundness was looking forward to something new and wonderful at Green Street. Damn that Tom Wolfe guy.
Jeanette's Smoke and Fire Quesidilla was made of smoked Gouda cheese, chicken, roasted chiles, and onion. It had potential. The potential wasn't lived up to. This dish was as bland as a LA Suburb in the fifties kind of Quesidilla. Boring. How can you make a boring Quesidilla?
As Jeanette's tongue was searching for something to excite one of her taste buds and finding nothing, I was vainly attempting to enjoy my Turkey Tostada. I don't know, but somehow when the words "Turkey Tostada" enter my brain, I think of CHUNKS of Turkey simmered perhaps in some warm spice, lots of cranberry raisins, some onion, a dash of zing, some flair, some oh I don't know, something hot and latin- like maybe a cranberry chipolte vinegrette.... Oh no. Not here.
Here at Green Street, once known for the bold daring innovative and succulent, we have paper thin flavorless sliced turkey, a spare miserable sprinkling of cranberry raisins, lots of crunch tortilla remnants sliced into quarter inch by one and a quarter inch and dried to bone dry and flavorless, and an errant stray green onion all tossed in a Ranch Sauce so boring it may honestly have been rejected Miracle Whip. It was more bland and more boring than Jeanettes Quesidilla. Dullsville baby, way beyond L 7. I almost went to sleep from the boredom eating it.
So we were disappointed in the food. Our waiter asked if we would like to try the Cherry Torte and being cheerful people who love a good pastry and were searching for a happy ending to this sorry lunch, we jumped at the chance and even ordered with the A La Mode vanilla ice cream. We figured no one could mess up a cherry torte, and admittedly, we had hopes, anticipation even.
The torte arrived a pastry engulfed in whipped cream and yellowed vanilla ice cream. The vanilla iced cream was devine, full of vanilla flavor and it had a lovely smooth but stiff texture,good stuff , alas it was not to be so for the torte. The pastry had been rubberized by a trip to the microwave. As any imbicile will tell you, pastry and a microwave are a culinary disaster, yeilding to rubberized awful puff pastry. This was. Then the cherry filling was sweet and full of corn syrup. Not a trace anywhere to be found of cherry tartness, no firm fruit texture, just oversweet gel and overcooked lifeless, textureless cherries. I hope they bought this as a day old,but most day olds at the Dutch Oven Bakery in Altadena are far superior to this disaster. We didn't finish dessert. Thats right, dear Reader, the lovely Jeanette and he of tripple chins left the majority of the pastry on the plate. We did get the last of the ice cream.
The latest remodel is the best since Green Street has been confined to the Parking garage, but I won't be going there again. I almost took Jeanette to Musso & Frank's in Hollywood for mushroom omelettes with the wild mushroom sauce, and for the nearly fifty bucks we spent at Green Street, that would have been a better and cheaper alternative.
I must admit, the service at Green Street was excellent, had they only servedc me something worth the calories, my money and my time... Oh, and the Zucchini bread is back to its old standards and worth ordering again- now if only they would do that for the rest of the menu.
So at Green Street you can't go home again, but at Musso's you can!
Green Street Restaurant
146 Shoppers Lane
Pasadena
626 577 7170
In any case, he of the double chins had a long relationship with Green Street Restaurant in Pasadena dating back to the pre-historic times when Green Street was actually a marvelous little hole in the wall ON GREEN STREET, and not bunker in the bottom part of a parking garage. In those bygone days, the kitchen was fully visable from the dinning area, and the dinning area was upholstered in green brocades whose patterns were almost Arts and Crafts and reminded one of a deep forest just as spring is about to turn to summer, full of dense over growth and small budding flowers. That little hole in the wall was never equalled for atmosphere, in spite of many remodels and attempts to do something interesting at the bunker in bottom of the parking garage.
The Fat Man, of course, continued to dine at Green Street for sometime, since he goes for the food, not the atmosphere. Of course, the signature Dianne Salad with Zucchini bread remained a favorite decade after decade, along with the knockwurst, sour cream, avacado and mushroom on grilled bread delight called Stephan's Sandwich, that in spite of the unfortunate spelling, I almost made my favorite for the better part of the early Clinton years.
Something happened. Maybe it was boredom at what one were fresh and exciting recipies now repeated once too many times, or perhaps it was the fourth soggy stale Dianne salad in a row that was the death knell, but the lovely Jeanette and I stopped darkening the door of Green Street. Steak and Dianne wasn't even remotely tempting.
A little flier somehow got to us in the mail noting our anniversary and inviting us to try new dishes at Green Street. Having been married for some twenty seven years, it seemed like some kind of sychronic idea to try something new at an old familiar place.
Jeanette had the new "Smoke and Fire Quesidilla" and I had a "Turkey Tostada" and we shared a "Cherry tart". He of enthusiastic tongue and ever expanding roundness was looking forward to something new and wonderful at Green Street. Damn that Tom Wolfe guy.
Jeanette's Smoke and Fire Quesidilla was made of smoked Gouda cheese, chicken, roasted chiles, and onion. It had potential. The potential wasn't lived up to. This dish was as bland as a LA Suburb in the fifties kind of Quesidilla. Boring. How can you make a boring Quesidilla?
As Jeanette's tongue was searching for something to excite one of her taste buds and finding nothing, I was vainly attempting to enjoy my Turkey Tostada. I don't know, but somehow when the words "Turkey Tostada" enter my brain, I think of CHUNKS of Turkey simmered perhaps in some warm spice, lots of cranberry raisins, some onion, a dash of zing, some flair, some oh I don't know, something hot and latin- like maybe a cranberry chipolte vinegrette.... Oh no. Not here.
Here at Green Street, once known for the bold daring innovative and succulent, we have paper thin flavorless sliced turkey, a spare miserable sprinkling of cranberry raisins, lots of crunch tortilla remnants sliced into quarter inch by one and a quarter inch and dried to bone dry and flavorless, and an errant stray green onion all tossed in a Ranch Sauce so boring it may honestly have been rejected Miracle Whip. It was more bland and more boring than Jeanettes Quesidilla. Dullsville baby, way beyond L 7. I almost went to sleep from the boredom eating it.
So we were disappointed in the food. Our waiter asked if we would like to try the Cherry Torte and being cheerful people who love a good pastry and were searching for a happy ending to this sorry lunch, we jumped at the chance and even ordered with the A La Mode vanilla ice cream. We figured no one could mess up a cherry torte, and admittedly, we had hopes, anticipation even.
The torte arrived a pastry engulfed in whipped cream and yellowed vanilla ice cream. The vanilla iced cream was devine, full of vanilla flavor and it had a lovely smooth but stiff texture,good stuff , alas it was not to be so for the torte. The pastry had been rubberized by a trip to the microwave. As any imbicile will tell you, pastry and a microwave are a culinary disaster, yeilding to rubberized awful puff pastry. This was. Then the cherry filling was sweet and full of corn syrup. Not a trace anywhere to be found of cherry tartness, no firm fruit texture, just oversweet gel and overcooked lifeless, textureless cherries. I hope they bought this as a day old,but most day olds at the Dutch Oven Bakery in Altadena are far superior to this disaster. We didn't finish dessert. Thats right, dear Reader, the lovely Jeanette and he of tripple chins left the majority of the pastry on the plate. We did get the last of the ice cream.
The latest remodel is the best since Green Street has been confined to the Parking garage, but I won't be going there again. I almost took Jeanette to Musso & Frank's in Hollywood for mushroom omelettes with the wild mushroom sauce, and for the nearly fifty bucks we spent at Green Street, that would have been a better and cheaper alternative.
I must admit, the service at Green Street was excellent, had they only servedc me something worth the calories, my money and my time... Oh, and the Zucchini bread is back to its old standards and worth ordering again- now if only they would do that for the rest of the menu.
So at Green Street you can't go home again, but at Musso's you can!
Green Street Restaurant
146 Shoppers Lane
Pasadena
626 577 7170
Thursday, September 25, 2008
O.K. Already......Beat Kitchen at the Coffee Gallery
So I leave the Coffee Gallery and hop into Josephine, my sweet 1938 Buick and she says "Hey when are you going to write up Chef Jeff?" I grumble. I know its the right thing to do, but I don't want to do it. You see there is a dirty little secret the one of tripple chins has: He doesn't like to write about the best stuff for fear it will become too popular, and the chubby one won't get a table, the prices will go up and the quality will go down. Dilema ensues on the drive back with Josephine saying "be a good boy, be a good boy, be a good boy" as we roll down the street. Those '38 Buicks can be SO insistant.
O.K. Dear Reader, here is the deal, I've been holding out on you, trying to keep the best for myself. Mia Culpa, Mia Culpa, Blah blah blah, so sorry excuse please.
No one seems to know exactly where Chef Jeff came from or exactly how he was trained to cook. In this day and age when it is common for even mediocre cooks to have a pedigree matching a championship dog, it seems almost shocking that a seemingly normal guy can be a great cook. Isn't that however, the American promise, that even the little guy, who does it on his own can rise to the highest, or in this case the most lip smacking heights? Yes and Amen!
Somehow Julie who runs the Coffee Gallery, made a deal with Jeff to let him cook breakfast at the Coffee Gallery. Jeff now operates the "Beat Kitchen" at the Coffee Gallery every weekday morning. Jeff is obsessed with high quality ingrediants, unusual and tasty combinations, and that sacreed tenant; good value. O.K O.K. enough of the preliminaries, Whats to eat?
There is the LA Podcaster A , bagel, cream cheese, sliced onion, tomatoes, black volcanic sea salt. This is the best Bagel plate you will ever have, unless you get version B that has Lox with it. Jeff finds the best most juicy, flavorfull tomatoes, and you wont believe how the Black volcanic salt brings out each seperate flavor. Wonderful.
There is the Kerouac Sandwich, named for the Father of Beatdom, Jack Kerouac, scrambled eggs, goat cheese, Harissa ( A delightful smoky chili sauce) on grilled Sourdough. Hey this is good and different.
On every Tuesday Jeff prepares a special hash. Sometimes Roast Beef, sometimes Chicken, sometimes Crab, always succulent, hearty and excellent.
There is the Fly Guy, named for Coffee Gallery Barista Fly, Spam, Pinapple chuncks, scallions, rice, and two eggs (best over almost, not quite hard)
Often on Fridays Jeff makes special Japanese pancakes full of veggies, crisp on the edges, and covered with a sweet chili sauce.
O.K. Thats nice you say, but what about price? Well, compared to the factory produced pre prepared gunk at your average chain diner and many a not chain diner too, this is high ultra high quality food, prepared with care and attention, a multicultural celebration of food, and a local business. Prices range from $3.50 for a LA Podcaster A to $8.00 for an exquisite omelette. Friends, its a deal!
There now, Josephine, are you happy?
The Beat Kitchen at the Coffee Gallery
2029 N. Lake Avenue
Altadena, Ca. 91001
626 398 7917
O.K. Dear Reader, here is the deal, I've been holding out on you, trying to keep the best for myself. Mia Culpa, Mia Culpa, Blah blah blah, so sorry excuse please.
No one seems to know exactly where Chef Jeff came from or exactly how he was trained to cook. In this day and age when it is common for even mediocre cooks to have a pedigree matching a championship dog, it seems almost shocking that a seemingly normal guy can be a great cook. Isn't that however, the American promise, that even the little guy, who does it on his own can rise to the highest, or in this case the most lip smacking heights? Yes and Amen!
Somehow Julie who runs the Coffee Gallery, made a deal with Jeff to let him cook breakfast at the Coffee Gallery. Jeff now operates the "Beat Kitchen" at the Coffee Gallery every weekday morning. Jeff is obsessed with high quality ingrediants, unusual and tasty combinations, and that sacreed tenant; good value. O.K O.K. enough of the preliminaries, Whats to eat?
There is the LA Podcaster A , bagel, cream cheese, sliced onion, tomatoes, black volcanic sea salt. This is the best Bagel plate you will ever have, unless you get version B that has Lox with it. Jeff finds the best most juicy, flavorfull tomatoes, and you wont believe how the Black volcanic salt brings out each seperate flavor. Wonderful.
There is the Kerouac Sandwich, named for the Father of Beatdom, Jack Kerouac, scrambled eggs, goat cheese, Harissa ( A delightful smoky chili sauce) on grilled Sourdough. Hey this is good and different.
On every Tuesday Jeff prepares a special hash. Sometimes Roast Beef, sometimes Chicken, sometimes Crab, always succulent, hearty and excellent.
There is the Fly Guy, named for Coffee Gallery Barista Fly, Spam, Pinapple chuncks, scallions, rice, and two eggs (best over almost, not quite hard)
Often on Fridays Jeff makes special Japanese pancakes full of veggies, crisp on the edges, and covered with a sweet chili sauce.
O.K. Thats nice you say, but what about price? Well, compared to the factory produced pre prepared gunk at your average chain diner and many a not chain diner too, this is high ultra high quality food, prepared with care and attention, a multicultural celebration of food, and a local business. Prices range from $3.50 for a LA Podcaster A to $8.00 for an exquisite omelette. Friends, its a deal!
There now, Josephine, are you happy?
The Beat Kitchen at the Coffee Gallery
2029 N. Lake Avenue
Altadena, Ca. 91001
626 398 7917
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Fredo's 720 n.Lake Ave, passthedohuts
He of triple extra chins has been eating salad. A whole two weeks of salad. It's fine for a couple of days. One fantasizes about being thin, fast, and nimble.Thats enough to carry a guy for a few days. Then, the withdrawl kicks in, the massive depression, the disgust at the sight of lettuce.You NEED a CARBOHYDRATE and you need it NOW!
So I'm riding around town with Josephine, bitching into her instrument panel that I just can't eat another salad for lunch. Josephine smoothly, but insistantly told me to go to the intersection of Lake and Orange Grove and pull up at Fredo's.
Ah, 1938 Buick's are such sweet things! So I pulled up and parked Josephine in all her long curvy blackness at the curb within the dappled light under the street trees. Only in the Denas! We have shade at the street. It's one of the subtle wonderful things about this place that most people never understand until they are somewhere awful like Hollywood or God forbid, Orange County, and all of the sudden they realize that they are dining on the sidewalk in the blazing unrelieved California sun. But then, as I often do, I digress...
I am here for some FOOD. Some stick to your ribs, carry you through a long day, quality FOOD. I've heard from friends that Fredo's is good, but I am dubious. A Cheese Steak Hoagee is a regional Philadelphia area food that seems to get all screwed up as it travels. You know, you've had the corporatista imitation:
A bun that is too thick and chews like a dogs oral fixation toy, sliced rubberized meat that has spent days in a warming tray and chews like WW1 boot leather, a big glob of melted cheese on top with some limp flavorless onions and bell peppers dumped into it carelessly. You eat one of those after hearing its the thang in Philly and you think that folks back there have no taste buds and jaws as powerful as a Cat D-9 tractor. Those chain store corporate imitations are just plain awful, but generally this inedible waste is served in a large portion, like its some kinda undesirable pile of leftover product they are trying to foist off on you. Chances are it is.
I've been told so many places with inedible hoaggies were palaces of culinary delight that I crossed the door of Freddos with considerable reluctance, but Josephine isn't known to steer a guy wrong. As I rolled my rotund self up to the counter I noticed a display of Tastee Cakes on the counter. Hmmmm, the Philly regional corporate junk food, well a couple plus points for some kind of regional fidelity...I ordered, a Freddo's "the Works"fries and a Coke. I waited. My stomach growled. It kept saying "This better be worth the wait, it had better be better than Carl's Junior." I hoped it was, cause eating at a national chain, even for fast food, is a morally reprehensable act.
My food came. I can't really explain this, but it smelled right. Kind of like a faint version of the clean sweat of a hard working guy. A good Chesse Steak Hoaggie always smells like that. It looked right. The Hoagee was wrapped in PAPER,it seeped a brown gray colors lightly at the back. It was a size based on the classical size bread flute, and looking down I saw paper thin steak chopped into small 3/8" x 1/4" pieces completely covered with warm melted almost liquid cheese. There were onions in there and chopped peppers and mushrooms totally encased in hot steaming cheese. I picked the sandwich up. It was hot to the touch. It had just been made the second before served. no heat lamps, no bins,
F R E S H. I was kind of annoyed that I would have to wait to eat it till it cooled down. I had some fries. Thick cut, soft, nice potato clouds. Comfort fries to the max.
My sandwich cooled down. I bit in. Oh MY very gooodness!!!I shouted (really, can't take this guy anyplace) Thats GOOD!!!! It was good, friends. The flavors of the cheese , the steak, the onion, the mushrooms and pepper blended together in a delightful symphony of perfection. Cheeesy, beefy, Fresh bread, savory perfection. Whoooo yeah! Worth breaking your diet for perfection. Really really good "Oh my goodness I gotta tell Mark Picaj (who is from Philly) about this joint" Faithful to the original regional food!
The next week I took Jeanette. She had a Chicken Cheese Steak and I had a Teriyaki Mushroom Cheese steak with onion rings. These were also EXCELLENT, but really, get "The Works", its the authentic experience. The onion rings were good, but I'll be sticking with the fries in the future.
So here we have a small joint in what has to be Pasadena's ugliest strip mall, that serves a out of state regional food, and serves it PERFECTLY right. Get to Fredos, quick before they do something stupid like franchise the joint!
So I'm riding around town with Josephine, bitching into her instrument panel that I just can't eat another salad for lunch. Josephine smoothly, but insistantly told me to go to the intersection of Lake and Orange Grove and pull up at Fredo's.
Ah, 1938 Buick's are such sweet things! So I pulled up and parked Josephine in all her long curvy blackness at the curb within the dappled light under the street trees. Only in the Denas! We have shade at the street. It's one of the subtle wonderful things about this place that most people never understand until they are somewhere awful like Hollywood or God forbid, Orange County, and all of the sudden they realize that they are dining on the sidewalk in the blazing unrelieved California sun. But then, as I often do, I digress...
I am here for some FOOD. Some stick to your ribs, carry you through a long day, quality FOOD. I've heard from friends that Fredo's is good, but I am dubious. A Cheese Steak Hoagee is a regional Philadelphia area food that seems to get all screwed up as it travels. You know, you've had the corporatista imitation:
A bun that is too thick and chews like a dogs oral fixation toy, sliced rubberized meat that has spent days in a warming tray and chews like WW1 boot leather, a big glob of melted cheese on top with some limp flavorless onions and bell peppers dumped into it carelessly. You eat one of those after hearing its the thang in Philly and you think that folks back there have no taste buds and jaws as powerful as a Cat D-9 tractor. Those chain store corporate imitations are just plain awful, but generally this inedible waste is served in a large portion, like its some kinda undesirable pile of leftover product they are trying to foist off on you. Chances are it is.
I've been told so many places with inedible hoaggies were palaces of culinary delight that I crossed the door of Freddos with considerable reluctance, but Josephine isn't known to steer a guy wrong. As I rolled my rotund self up to the counter I noticed a display of Tastee Cakes on the counter. Hmmmm, the Philly regional corporate junk food, well a couple plus points for some kind of regional fidelity...I ordered, a Freddo's "the Works"fries and a Coke. I waited. My stomach growled. It kept saying "This better be worth the wait, it had better be better than Carl's Junior." I hoped it was, cause eating at a national chain, even for fast food, is a morally reprehensable act.
My food came. I can't really explain this, but it smelled right. Kind of like a faint version of the clean sweat of a hard working guy. A good Chesse Steak Hoaggie always smells like that. It looked right. The Hoagee was wrapped in PAPER,it seeped a brown gray colors lightly at the back. It was a size based on the classical size bread flute, and looking down I saw paper thin steak chopped into small 3/8" x 1/4" pieces completely covered with warm melted almost liquid cheese. There were onions in there and chopped peppers and mushrooms totally encased in hot steaming cheese. I picked the sandwich up. It was hot to the touch. It had just been made the second before served. no heat lamps, no bins,
F R E S H. I was kind of annoyed that I would have to wait to eat it till it cooled down. I had some fries. Thick cut, soft, nice potato clouds. Comfort fries to the max.
My sandwich cooled down. I bit in. Oh MY very gooodness!!!I shouted (really, can't take this guy anyplace) Thats GOOD!!!! It was good, friends. The flavors of the cheese , the steak, the onion, the mushrooms and pepper blended together in a delightful symphony of perfection. Cheeesy, beefy, Fresh bread, savory perfection. Whoooo yeah! Worth breaking your diet for perfection. Really really good "Oh my goodness I gotta tell Mark Picaj (who is from Philly) about this joint" Faithful to the original regional food!
The next week I took Jeanette. She had a Chicken Cheese Steak and I had a Teriyaki Mushroom Cheese steak with onion rings. These were also EXCELLENT, but really, get "The Works", its the authentic experience. The onion rings were good, but I'll be sticking with the fries in the future.
So here we have a small joint in what has to be Pasadena's ugliest strip mall, that serves a out of state regional food, and serves it PERFECTLY right. Get to Fredos, quick before they do something stupid like franchise the joint!
Sunday, August 10, 2008
CJ's WINGS CAFE, Altadena
I was rolling along Altadena Drive with full intent of arriving at In N Out for dinner. Josephine, my long black sultry 1938 Buick had certian other ideas. 1938 Buicks can be kinda head strong/
"We're getting wings" she said , and then made a hard right at Lake Avenue and Altadena Drive, rolled up to the sidewalk and promptly stopped. I peered into Josephine's instrument panel and said
"Whatta you doin? I didn't point you here!"
"You promised to go try this joint out as soon as it opened."
" Yeah, but you know I hate chicken wings, come on let me have a Double Double with raw onion."
"I'm not budging till you keep your promise."
I knew Josephine was right, of course, 1938 Buicks always are. SO here I was in front of the best triangular building Frank Lloyd Wright never did, but originally it was a Luther Eskijian building made for the old local HEADLINER chain of coffee shops. I loved that building and fondly remember the old buttermilk donuts found long ago during my childhood there, and of course the Echo Cafe that I did the remodel drawings for, and where Jeanette and I enjoyed many a really good Lebanese dinner. This was a local small minority owned Altadena business and I, just out of solidarity, had an obligation to try to enjoy it.
A confession here: I hate hot wings. Before Friday night every awful hot wing I had ever eaten, except the ones at Bessie's Daughter's Soulful Taco's, hers were good, was a soggy rubbery overly tomato sauced, yet annoyingly dry meated nasty concoction fit for neither man nor beast. I could not IMAGINE that someone would build a menu around hot wings. Generally speaking if Helga wasn't cooking them, hot wings were not food. Most dogs won't even eat them, and dogs will eat almost anything. So with much trepidation, I got out of Josephine, and as I did, my wife rolled up and was delighted to see me and said "Oh Lambie, you were thinking the same thing! lets eat together before our meetings!" I love that 1938 Buick!
SO in we go. It was the second night the Wing Cafe was open. They were running a managers special, 6 wings, fries and a coke- $6.99. I thought Well, if the wings are your average God Awful affair I'll only be out seven bucks and I just won't finish them and still get to In N Out. So we ordered two managers specials with mild boss sauce. The place was just slammed with people. Altadenans who have had a pent up demand for reasonably priced American fare were finally seeing the potential of this desire being met. Several diners with unfortunate upscale pretentions had failed in this location, and I had always said that what Altadena wanted was a place to get a burger, or some chicken or meatloaf where you could sit down and eat. Why is that such a difficult concept for so many eatery owners?
Jeanette and I chatted with many a Altadenan as we waited for our food. It did take a bit of time to arrive, but like I said, the place was slammed with people and only open its second day. I was certain there were bugs being worked out. It usually takes a place a couple months to get to speed.
Our order arrived. Did I mention I don't really like Chicken wings? Yeah I just don't think bony bits of chicken anatomy mostly skin and scant amounts of hard overcooked yet rubbery meat drowning in tomato sauce and Tabasco are really food. I think they are some kinda industrial waste, generally. I tried a French Fry. IT WAS PERFECT. The french Fry was crunchy on the outside but not burned, moist and soft on the inside, firm to the touch and it tasted like Potato, unlike many a fry that tastes like semi rancid oil or some kind of odd foamy paste frshly assaulted with salt. Real Potato, fried perfectly. I had several more and then looked over at my wings. Man, I thought, these are some momentous wings! Look how big! I picked one up, it was hefty. I bit into it, it was meaty and friends, the meat was perfectly cooked to a nice firm ,well but not overdone, texture. The meat was lightly battered with a batter that kind of rolled into clusters of round deeply fried globs that didn't cover the whole wing, but added a nice crunch. Then the sauce hit.O.K. They screwed up our order. This clearly wasn't the mild, it was the HOT sauce. It was GOOD! Who cares it isn't mild...THIS STUFF IS GOOD. The sauce hits your tastebuds and sings a medley of yum on your tongue. There is the hot hot hot of cayenne, the smokey hot of Chipoltle, a zing of vinegar, some sweet and a distant trace of a small amount of tomato. I kept saying Yeah baby! My tongue and front lip had this burning then this oddly pleasant joyful numb tingling sensation. Ohhhh this was GOOD!I was eating as if I'd been starved for months and before that had never had a decent meal in my life. Oh this was GOOD! the heat kept building, I kept eating, hotter and hotter and just wonderful. Jeanette loved her's too, but the heat was too much and I got her last wing. Yeah get the hot sauce guys, and get the extra wing! Then I almost cried, like Alexander the Great having no more worlds to conquer...I was out of wings. That was a sad moment. Jeanette and I decided to try some more of the menu the next night.
So the next night we drove with maximum giddyness (and when was the last time you were giddy going out to dinner?) over to the intersection of Lake and Altadena. We had to park in the parking lot to the south, all the on street parking was taken and the joint was full. I, who hate a overly full diner and a line, ran with my chubby self uphill to the Wings Cafe. I bet that was a sight.....
Jeanette had the Chicken Tenders and this time with the mild Boss Sauce. They were slices of chicken, not that awful bleached pressed stuff some places make, and Jeanette felt they were better than the wings, being all meat, and cooked the same way. The mild Boss Sauce is very smoky and complex, a wonderful sauce, and it too according to Jeanette warms up on you. I had the C JBoss Burger. Two freshly ground,not frozen sirloin patties, rich slices of cheese, chopped fried sweet onion, tomato, lettuce and Boss Sauce. Move over Pie N Burger, the best burger in the San Gabriel Valley is now in ALTADENA, Baby! Yep, this is da bomb burger!
he of tripple extra largeness and too many chins will have many more of these!
Finally, a note about dessert here:
GET THE CARROT CAKE! You would never know it these days, but carrot cake was invented eighty years ago at the Brown Derby and was a semi health food dessert. Way way back in olden time, the frosting was a lightly sweetened cream cheese. Somehow over the years the cream cheese frosting in most carrot cakes got a bunch of vanilla and so much sugar that the frosting has a brittle crystalline texture and so much sugar that the gigantic pieces generally served make even the most healthy person dizzy. NOT SO HERE!
The cream cheese frosting is smooth and round in your mouth. It's not super super sweet, its slightly so while still maintaining the essence of a dairy product. There are walnuts and carrot that you can TASTE and enjoy in this cake. Its the good stuff!
So he of much girth has a new place to hang, and its in Altadena. CJ's Wing Cafe is the place to be!
"We're getting wings" she said , and then made a hard right at Lake Avenue and Altadena Drive, rolled up to the sidewalk and promptly stopped. I peered into Josephine's instrument panel and said
"Whatta you doin? I didn't point you here!"
"You promised to go try this joint out as soon as it opened."
" Yeah, but you know I hate chicken wings, come on let me have a Double Double with raw onion."
"I'm not budging till you keep your promise."
I knew Josephine was right, of course, 1938 Buicks always are. SO here I was in front of the best triangular building Frank Lloyd Wright never did, but originally it was a Luther Eskijian building made for the old local HEADLINER chain of coffee shops. I loved that building and fondly remember the old buttermilk donuts found long ago during my childhood there, and of course the Echo Cafe that I did the remodel drawings for, and where Jeanette and I enjoyed many a really good Lebanese dinner. This was a local small minority owned Altadena business and I, just out of solidarity, had an obligation to try to enjoy it.
A confession here: I hate hot wings. Before Friday night every awful hot wing I had ever eaten, except the ones at Bessie's Daughter's Soulful Taco's, hers were good, was a soggy rubbery overly tomato sauced, yet annoyingly dry meated nasty concoction fit for neither man nor beast. I could not IMAGINE that someone would build a menu around hot wings. Generally speaking if Helga wasn't cooking them, hot wings were not food. Most dogs won't even eat them, and dogs will eat almost anything. So with much trepidation, I got out of Josephine, and as I did, my wife rolled up and was delighted to see me and said "Oh Lambie, you were thinking the same thing! lets eat together before our meetings!" I love that 1938 Buick!
SO in we go. It was the second night the Wing Cafe was open. They were running a managers special, 6 wings, fries and a coke- $6.99. I thought Well, if the wings are your average God Awful affair I'll only be out seven bucks and I just won't finish them and still get to In N Out. So we ordered two managers specials with mild boss sauce. The place was just slammed with people. Altadenans who have had a pent up demand for reasonably priced American fare were finally seeing the potential of this desire being met. Several diners with unfortunate upscale pretentions had failed in this location, and I had always said that what Altadena wanted was a place to get a burger, or some chicken or meatloaf where you could sit down and eat. Why is that such a difficult concept for so many eatery owners?
Jeanette and I chatted with many a Altadenan as we waited for our food. It did take a bit of time to arrive, but like I said, the place was slammed with people and only open its second day. I was certain there were bugs being worked out. It usually takes a place a couple months to get to speed.
Our order arrived. Did I mention I don't really like Chicken wings? Yeah I just don't think bony bits of chicken anatomy mostly skin and scant amounts of hard overcooked yet rubbery meat drowning in tomato sauce and Tabasco are really food. I think they are some kinda industrial waste, generally. I tried a French Fry. IT WAS PERFECT. The french Fry was crunchy on the outside but not burned, moist and soft on the inside, firm to the touch and it tasted like Potato, unlike many a fry that tastes like semi rancid oil or some kind of odd foamy paste frshly assaulted with salt. Real Potato, fried perfectly. I had several more and then looked over at my wings. Man, I thought, these are some momentous wings! Look how big! I picked one up, it was hefty. I bit into it, it was meaty and friends, the meat was perfectly cooked to a nice firm ,well but not overdone, texture. The meat was lightly battered with a batter that kind of rolled into clusters of round deeply fried globs that didn't cover the whole wing, but added a nice crunch. Then the sauce hit.O.K. They screwed up our order. This clearly wasn't the mild, it was the HOT sauce. It was GOOD! Who cares it isn't mild...THIS STUFF IS GOOD. The sauce hits your tastebuds and sings a medley of yum on your tongue. There is the hot hot hot of cayenne, the smokey hot of Chipoltle, a zing of vinegar, some sweet and a distant trace of a small amount of tomato. I kept saying Yeah baby! My tongue and front lip had this burning then this oddly pleasant joyful numb tingling sensation. Ohhhh this was GOOD!I was eating as if I'd been starved for months and before that had never had a decent meal in my life. Oh this was GOOD! the heat kept building, I kept eating, hotter and hotter and just wonderful. Jeanette loved her's too, but the heat was too much and I got her last wing. Yeah get the hot sauce guys, and get the extra wing! Then I almost cried, like Alexander the Great having no more worlds to conquer...I was out of wings. That was a sad moment. Jeanette and I decided to try some more of the menu the next night.
So the next night we drove with maximum giddyness (and when was the last time you were giddy going out to dinner?) over to the intersection of Lake and Altadena. We had to park in the parking lot to the south, all the on street parking was taken and the joint was full. I, who hate a overly full diner and a line, ran with my chubby self uphill to the Wings Cafe. I bet that was a sight.....
Jeanette had the Chicken Tenders and this time with the mild Boss Sauce. They were slices of chicken, not that awful bleached pressed stuff some places make, and Jeanette felt they were better than the wings, being all meat, and cooked the same way. The mild Boss Sauce is very smoky and complex, a wonderful sauce, and it too according to Jeanette warms up on you. I had the C JBoss Burger. Two freshly ground,not frozen sirloin patties, rich slices of cheese, chopped fried sweet onion, tomato, lettuce and Boss Sauce. Move over Pie N Burger, the best burger in the San Gabriel Valley is now in ALTADENA, Baby! Yep, this is da bomb burger!
he of tripple extra largeness and too many chins will have many more of these!
Finally, a note about dessert here:
GET THE CARROT CAKE! You would never know it these days, but carrot cake was invented eighty years ago at the Brown Derby and was a semi health food dessert. Way way back in olden time, the frosting was a lightly sweetened cream cheese. Somehow over the years the cream cheese frosting in most carrot cakes got a bunch of vanilla and so much sugar that the frosting has a brittle crystalline texture and so much sugar that the gigantic pieces generally served make even the most healthy person dizzy. NOT SO HERE!
The cream cheese frosting is smooth and round in your mouth. It's not super super sweet, its slightly so while still maintaining the essence of a dairy product. There are walnuts and carrot that you can TASTE and enjoy in this cake. Its the good stuff!
So he of much girth has a new place to hang, and its in Altadena. CJ's Wing Cafe is the place to be!
Saturday, July 19, 2008
Da Fat Man is Back!!!!! Helga and Donna
The Fat Man hasn't written since the late and very great Word of Mouth Magazine went the way of all flesh and departed this vail of tears. The fact that he of triple extra large girth has not scribbled any notes to the general public in some time, does not mean however that Josephene, the ever faithful long low black 1938 Buick Special Streamline Sports Sedan, has failed to transport the rotund one to palaces of temporal pleasure.
Alas, some of the most wonderful places he of piled upon poundage has ever known have been discovered and died since he last wrote. The Fat Man is, as ever, committed to Real Food, made by REAL People. Stuff that you can't find at just any old miserable god forsaken freeway off ramp, you know that bland tasteless cardboard corporate death food that is placeless, yet annoyingly enough, everyplace. We don't review Subway, the Olive Garden, Mc Nasties, Burger Chump, joints with red or blue roofs,genuine imitation Boston seafood places,corporate awful bland Mexican joints, or any other national chains. Yuk! If something must be acceptable to anyone and everyone everywhere, it can't possibly be anything but mediocre. What was it that Jewish Prophet guy said "I would rather you be hot or cold, but being lukwarm, I spit you out." The same should be done with corporate mediocre food. It's biblical, after all......
So, Today his chubbyness is writing oddly enough, about diners past who were killed by the common enemy of all that is local: Greedicus Landlordicus Rat Bastard Maximus. This is a particularly rapacious species that devours, solely for short term return, its tenants, while using its related species : Lawyer Rat Bastardicus No Veritas and adjucaie Mammon Servicus Corruptis. But before one must detail the pain of long slow undeserved and unjust death, allow he of triple chins to regale you with stories of past glories....
First, let us remember and honor one adventurous,brave, determined, hard working woman, who after a career at Earthlink struck out on her own with her Momma's Soulful Taco recipe, a pile of jammin Soul food recipes, and a whole lotta grit. One marvelous Sistah of Soulful eats, Helga Khun. Yeah yeah Helga is babalicious to be sure, but who cares! Her FOOOOOOOOD at the great now gone Bessie's Daughters Soulful Tacos, was ultra yummie!
Ox tails full of fine rich slow cooked flavor falling off the bone, dirty rice that was hearty, greens spiced not with pork, but delicious chunks of smoked turkey, ultra large Bessie's ground beef or chicken tacos that were spicy, with crispy chewy shells, a pretty darn good breakfast menu, Sunday Soulfood of some slowly baked chicken, macaroni and cheese like my Grammie used to make, divine sweet potatoe pie, and my personal favorite, the Ultimate African-American/Latino fusion food, the Martin's BBQ Link Hot Link Taco. The sausage was indeed made local in Altadena by Anita and Walter Martin, spiced hot and pleasant with a texture that was just a wee bit on the rough side, so it had some chunk. Put that delicious link in a perfectly fried taco shell, both crisp and chewy, add lettuce, cheese and tomato, and there you all are, PERFECTION.
Bessie's Daughter's Soulful Tacos, of course, had some birthing pains like any brand spanking new business. It took the staff, all local hard core unemployed kids, a bit to learn to quickly cook and put together most orders. O.K. the glass topped tables were not always pristine. and it took almost a year to get a reliable, customer service oriented crew together. The deepest problem Helga faced however, was a problem totally beyond her control, her Landlord and his manifest shortcomings.
Her landlord was the builder of her complex. Helga signed a lease with the Landlords leasing agent acting also as her agent. Uh Huh..Helga was given a completion date for the complex and leased her equipment. The opening date was over a year later than agreed. There were arguments about what tenant improvements were her responsibility and the Landlords. Said Landlord had made several oral representations about modifications to the lease, he did not deny he made them, he just always answered with "Thats not what the signed lease reads, read your lease."
Even these problems could have been overcome, but what could not be overcome was the intermittent stench of sewage. In his haste, the Landlord had incorrectly laid a sewer drain, a fact he insisted had nothing to do with the pervasive aroma. This aroma was present before Helga began operations and when she was doing her tenant improvements. She complained then, and she complained constantly. The County at first said it was the improperly laid sewer line, but quickly changed its "mind". The battle raged for two years until Helga's finances were completely depleted and her business totally ruined. Then as if to twist a knife of insult to the injury, once she was damaged beyond repair, the Landlord fixed the problem. So a redevelopment project that was supposed to be an engine of local business development and locally based prosperity had destroyed one plucky determined local African-American woman's economic health. This was done with the complete knowledge and co operation of the County of Los Angeles. Of course the landlord greatly benefits, because Helga Khun took the bare studs of the project, installed the electrical, plumbing, drywall, hoods, sinks, floors, bathroom, countertops and finish electrical, and under the terms of the lease, abandoned them to the Rat Bastard Landlord. He got her rent. He got all his operating expenses for her space,he provided a inferior product, he got her improvements. She got nothing. That's the state of Real Estate Law in California.
Helga's was a loss of hope. The hope that African-American Altadenans would participate in their local economy and be blessed from the development they had fought for during a twenty five year period. The loss of Donna Stars South Lake Italian Kitchen (SLIK) was different and in some ways a deeper loss. SLIK had been in business for fifteen years,and had there built a community of regulars. Many a Altadenan. Almost a third of the customers were Altadenans because this place was the closest diner that embodied the values of the Altadena Community.
Donna paid her staff well, she insured them medically, she gave them days off, they were a part of her family. Donna's customers became part of her family. This was in part, because Donna introduced everyone to everyone else, made certain we all got to know each other and because she was committed to good food. Donna had the BEST FRENCH FRIES in the San Gabriel Valley, and her Cheeseburger was unequaled for quality, freshness and flavor. The best the Fat Man has ever eaten. Donna made Fish and Chips that were better than any except those over at BRITS, her honey mustard pine nut salad was divine, the spaghetti Marinara with Italian sausage was as good as that my parents next door neighbor Mrs. Deluco made. Everything at SLIK was wonderful. The place was full of Roberto Quintanna's art pieces and photographs of Donna's pet dogs. It was individual. You were in a REAL PLACE, that was a specific PLACE and NO OTHER PLACE. The company was full of interesting people who actually thought about the issues of life and respectfully but voiciferously discussed them. It was a family, a community, a cultural treasure.
Enter another Rat Bastard Landlord ( you should be able to hear melodramatic organ music whenever the term Landlord is used). This one bought the building,and found a odd little section in Donna's lease that enabled her to evict Donna, her business, and her community without cause, within 30 days of purchasing the building. Rat Bastard Landlord is all about maximizing profit today, now, instant gratification. So with three years left on her lease, and after having always paid her rent on time,SLIK was served with eviction. Donna had in her community several lawyers, Larry Melke, who while a developer is a decent moral human being, and friends ready to fight for their community. They fought hard for almost two years. In the end, the unjust lease, insanity and raw greed, and a judge who is an imbicile, won out over decency, good food, local culture, justice, righteousness and community.
A year ago SLIK closed and recently a hyper expensive really ugly frogurt chain outlet opened up in what was once a home away from home. This is a business that could not possibly do enough volume to make the rent over time, so expect a high turn over rate at this location. I wonder how a Landlord really makes a profit on that?
We have a economic system not of merit, not that rewards hard work, but one that really is nothing more than piracy. It is a miracle in this climate that any local business can survive. Here at Haunts of the Fat Man we will celebrate them.
Alas, some of the most wonderful places he of piled upon poundage has ever known have been discovered and died since he last wrote. The Fat Man is, as ever, committed to Real Food, made by REAL People. Stuff that you can't find at just any old miserable god forsaken freeway off ramp, you know that bland tasteless cardboard corporate death food that is placeless, yet annoyingly enough, everyplace. We don't review Subway, the Olive Garden, Mc Nasties, Burger Chump, joints with red or blue roofs,genuine imitation Boston seafood places,corporate awful bland Mexican joints, or any other national chains. Yuk! If something must be acceptable to anyone and everyone everywhere, it can't possibly be anything but mediocre. What was it that Jewish Prophet guy said "I would rather you be hot or cold, but being lukwarm, I spit you out." The same should be done with corporate mediocre food. It's biblical, after all......
So, Today his chubbyness is writing oddly enough, about diners past who were killed by the common enemy of all that is local: Greedicus Landlordicus Rat Bastard Maximus. This is a particularly rapacious species that devours, solely for short term return, its tenants, while using its related species : Lawyer Rat Bastardicus No Veritas and adjucaie Mammon Servicus Corruptis. But before one must detail the pain of long slow undeserved and unjust death, allow he of triple chins to regale you with stories of past glories....
First, let us remember and honor one adventurous,brave, determined, hard working woman, who after a career at Earthlink struck out on her own with her Momma's Soulful Taco recipe, a pile of jammin Soul food recipes, and a whole lotta grit. One marvelous Sistah of Soulful eats, Helga Khun. Yeah yeah Helga is babalicious to be sure, but who cares! Her FOOOOOOOOD at the great now gone Bessie's Daughters Soulful Tacos, was ultra yummie!
Ox tails full of fine rich slow cooked flavor falling off the bone, dirty rice that was hearty, greens spiced not with pork, but delicious chunks of smoked turkey, ultra large Bessie's ground beef or chicken tacos that were spicy, with crispy chewy shells, a pretty darn good breakfast menu, Sunday Soulfood of some slowly baked chicken, macaroni and cheese like my Grammie used to make, divine sweet potatoe pie, and my personal favorite, the Ultimate African-American/Latino fusion food, the Martin's BBQ Link Hot Link Taco. The sausage was indeed made local in Altadena by Anita and Walter Martin, spiced hot and pleasant with a texture that was just a wee bit on the rough side, so it had some chunk. Put that delicious link in a perfectly fried taco shell, both crisp and chewy, add lettuce, cheese and tomato, and there you all are, PERFECTION.
Bessie's Daughter's Soulful Tacos, of course, had some birthing pains like any brand spanking new business. It took the staff, all local hard core unemployed kids, a bit to learn to quickly cook and put together most orders. O.K. the glass topped tables were not always pristine. and it took almost a year to get a reliable, customer service oriented crew together. The deepest problem Helga faced however, was a problem totally beyond her control, her Landlord and his manifest shortcomings.
Her landlord was the builder of her complex. Helga signed a lease with the Landlords leasing agent acting also as her agent. Uh Huh..Helga was given a completion date for the complex and leased her equipment. The opening date was over a year later than agreed. There were arguments about what tenant improvements were her responsibility and the Landlords. Said Landlord had made several oral representations about modifications to the lease, he did not deny he made them, he just always answered with "Thats not what the signed lease reads, read your lease."
Even these problems could have been overcome, but what could not be overcome was the intermittent stench of sewage. In his haste, the Landlord had incorrectly laid a sewer drain, a fact he insisted had nothing to do with the pervasive aroma. This aroma was present before Helga began operations and when she was doing her tenant improvements. She complained then, and she complained constantly. The County at first said it was the improperly laid sewer line, but quickly changed its "mind". The battle raged for two years until Helga's finances were completely depleted and her business totally ruined. Then as if to twist a knife of insult to the injury, once she was damaged beyond repair, the Landlord fixed the problem. So a redevelopment project that was supposed to be an engine of local business development and locally based prosperity had destroyed one plucky determined local African-American woman's economic health. This was done with the complete knowledge and co operation of the County of Los Angeles. Of course the landlord greatly benefits, because Helga Khun took the bare studs of the project, installed the electrical, plumbing, drywall, hoods, sinks, floors, bathroom, countertops and finish electrical, and under the terms of the lease, abandoned them to the Rat Bastard Landlord. He got her rent. He got all his operating expenses for her space,he provided a inferior product, he got her improvements. She got nothing. That's the state of Real Estate Law in California.
Helga's was a loss of hope. The hope that African-American Altadenans would participate in their local economy and be blessed from the development they had fought for during a twenty five year period. The loss of Donna Stars South Lake Italian Kitchen (SLIK) was different and in some ways a deeper loss. SLIK had been in business for fifteen years,and had there built a community of regulars. Many a Altadenan. Almost a third of the customers were Altadenans because this place was the closest diner that embodied the values of the Altadena Community.
Donna paid her staff well, she insured them medically, she gave them days off, they were a part of her family. Donna's customers became part of her family. This was in part, because Donna introduced everyone to everyone else, made certain we all got to know each other and because she was committed to good food. Donna had the BEST FRENCH FRIES in the San Gabriel Valley, and her Cheeseburger was unequaled for quality, freshness and flavor. The best the Fat Man has ever eaten. Donna made Fish and Chips that were better than any except those over at BRITS, her honey mustard pine nut salad was divine, the spaghetti Marinara with Italian sausage was as good as that my parents next door neighbor Mrs. Deluco made. Everything at SLIK was wonderful. The place was full of Roberto Quintanna's art pieces and photographs of Donna's pet dogs. It was individual. You were in a REAL PLACE, that was a specific PLACE and NO OTHER PLACE. The company was full of interesting people who actually thought about the issues of life and respectfully but voiciferously discussed them. It was a family, a community, a cultural treasure.
Enter another Rat Bastard Landlord ( you should be able to hear melodramatic organ music whenever the term Landlord is used). This one bought the building,and found a odd little section in Donna's lease that enabled her to evict Donna, her business, and her community without cause, within 30 days of purchasing the building. Rat Bastard Landlord is all about maximizing profit today, now, instant gratification. So with three years left on her lease, and after having always paid her rent on time,SLIK was served with eviction. Donna had in her community several lawyers, Larry Melke, who while a developer is a decent moral human being, and friends ready to fight for their community. They fought hard for almost two years. In the end, the unjust lease, insanity and raw greed, and a judge who is an imbicile, won out over decency, good food, local culture, justice, righteousness and community.
A year ago SLIK closed and recently a hyper expensive really ugly frogurt chain outlet opened up in what was once a home away from home. This is a business that could not possibly do enough volume to make the rent over time, so expect a high turn over rate at this location. I wonder how a Landlord really makes a profit on that?
We have a economic system not of merit, not that rewards hard work, but one that really is nothing more than piracy. It is a miracle in this climate that any local business can survive. Here at Haunts of the Fat Man we will celebrate them.
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