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
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