Morro Bay's first food truck! Topdog Coffee delivery

The fairy of Good Fortune smiled upon me recently, and – lo and behold – I found myself visiting beautiful Paso Robles. I was wined. I was dined. I was taken on a guided tour of the quiet little village of Morro Bay. I was happy.

On the Morro Bay day, as I stepped off the bus and into the chill of a foggy morning, I met a friendly dude with a happy yellow bicycle trailer full of treats. Coffee, pastries. Thank you, Good Fortune Fairy!

The friendly dude is the delivery man for Morro Bay’s Top Dog Coffee Bar, Patrick Bietz and Suzanne Maury’s roaster and brick-and-mortar coffee shop at 857 Main Street. For almost four years, they’ve been brewing and baking and – as a service to small, local businesses – delivering, too. Everything they serve in the store – from scones to breakfast burritos – gets loaded onto the bike and delivered from 9am ’til noon.

I didn’t get a chance to try their famous cranberry-orange scones, but I did giddily indulge in a large drip coffee. More mellow than the high-octane stuff we’ve been acclimated to from the popular coffee chains, this coffee is nutty, rich and less acidic, too. Even better, it’s all roasted in-house, every other day.

A great cup of coffee, from a business that knows its neighbors and supports its own. Friendly people and freshly baked goodies. Sustainable delivery, keeping local businesses caffeinated. Also, the perfect thing on a chilly morning; something to sip while contemplating a day of adventure on the beautiful central California coast.

Steppin' out

While I – unsurprisingly – tend to focus on food trucks here at Food Truck Times, there are actually all kinds of things to eat in LA. In fact, after years of derision, this city is actually beginning to make a name for itself on the food front.

Los Angeles is a big place, and so many edible wonders hitting such a large city in such a brief amount of time can seem a bit overwhelming if one is left to discover the deliciousness on her own. Luckily, we never have to consider that scenario; this place is positively brimming with very capable food guides. They’re bloggers who giddily snack, slurp, suck and sip all over town and then report back on their findings.

Yes, I proudly consider myself one of many. And on Wednesday, September 22, I was honored to join them for their second annual celebration – Blogger Prom!

Yamashiro, the classic Hollywood cocktail spot, was re-purposed as a 1940′s nightclub. Men and women pulled out their vintage threads – and all the stops – to make it a night for the ages. And, as luck would have it, I found myself totally in my element! And not even because of the people – most of the event’s treats were at least partially mobile!

To start, Yamashiro began hosting a Thursday night farmer’s market in March. Fresh produce trucked in and out to satisfy LA’s appetite for local. And if marketers want something a little more meaty? For that, Yamashiro offers tacos! The same tacos Chef Brock Kleweno cooks up on farmer’s market nights are the tacos he served at Prom (with the addition of an event-only, Kleweno Farm’s Smoked Sausage with Maple-Black Pepper Aioli special).

Photo courtesy http://www.yamashirorestaurant.com

Dessert was provided by none other than the Coolhaus truck and attendees took home coupons for cupcakes from the Sprinkles truck and the Manila Machine.

A 40′s ball without booze would be unthinkable! So The Beer Chicks had Eagle Rock Brewery‘s best on tap. There were wines from Fresh & Easy Neighborhood Market and additional libations courtesy of Cabana Cachaça, Zaya Rum and Casa Noble Tequila. But what made it home in every blogger’s gift bag were samples of The Dalmore and – from the event sponsor – small bottles of Pinky Vodka.

Think Pink!

No prom night is complete without some sort of afterparty (if you know what I’m sayin’…). Blogger Prom 2010 indulged their particular cravings at a place called Test Kitchen. Coincidentally, this brand-spankin’-new restaurant showcases a revolving door of chefs and mixologists for gastro-ific one night stands. After their featured night, it’s time to return to their home restaurant/bar or move onto the next great adventure.

Off we go, into the wild, blue yonder! There is always something new to try, to taste, to see, to do. There’s always another food truck to chase. What escapes me, my fellow LA bloggers are sure to catch. And I hope to meet up with them again next year, for Blogger Prom 2011.

photo courtesy http://www.uncouthgourmands.com (From L to R: Me, Minty Shawna from TheMinty, Manila Machines’s own LetMeEatCake, Josie from UncouthGourmands, SauceLA's Shawna Dawson, and Elliott from FforFood)

Chris "CJ" Jacobson, Exec Chef at The Yard in Santa Monica. Photo by Ryan Tanaka

Well, I’ll be. Turns out it isn’t just food trucks that are causing a stir on the food scene. The people who talk about, photograph, write about and eat food are – simultaneously – labeled as responsible for culinary art reaching heights never before seen in our lifetimes…and also ruining the experience for everybody.

With the stratospheric popularity of absolutely everything Food Network, Cooking Channel and celebrity chef cook-offs, there are fans. Lots of them. And some are well-behaved and grateful for the exposure to a type of artistry that goes in their belly. Some are a little less…reserved: taking their new-found knowledge/obsession and loudly pontificating about produce; stalking certain restaurateurs as if they were rockstars; and occasionally…well…just generally making an ass out of themselves.

In the best of cases, the obsession with ingestion has to do with serious food politics: Big Agra, US school lunches, fast food – these things are Bad. Working to make a difference in the system so that people across all socio-economic systems have affordable access to healthy food is Good. But blindly spouting off about Jamie Oliver to the guy who’s working the grill at your neighborhood block party is Annoying.

In the worst of cases, there’s an unapologetic snobbery that feels more like playground bullying than breaking bread. Not everyone can afford a jar of artisan elderflower honey cultivated by monks in Tibet, and – for most of us – a dollop of Sue Bee will do just fine. Sometimes you just have to get over it. Like Grandma always says, that’s the way the Scottish shortbread cookie, crafted exquisitely of  stone-ground wheat flour and creamy Irish butter, cradling a soupçon of ruby-hued English strawberry preserves crumbles.

But these days everyone seems to have a camera and an opinion, and – often – an attitude of entitlement that’s a little hard to swallow. And the general irritation within the food writing world seems to be at a boiling point. There has been a recent blaze of “friendly” fire (or, perhaps, flambe?) directed at the very culture which feeds the most voracious of the eater/complainers. Food bloggers are fed up with foodies.

This war of words is happening everywhere. From the always entertaining Shut Up Foodies folks in New York, to Katharine Shilcutt’s rage-inciting article on Houston Press Blogs, “Has the ‘Foodie’ Backlash Begun?” In LA, there’s Amy Scattergood and her two-part SquidInk post, the “Top10 Foodie Words We Hate: Starting With Foodie”; and Heather John, who wrote in the September issue of Bon Appetit: “Somewhere along the revolutionary road, honest artisans who used to be known as bartenders became loftily titled ‘mixologists,’ and alchemy gave way to the absurd.” A lot of people are pretty fired up over the way we talk about food.

Given the heated political and social atmosphere in the food world, it’s not always easy to tell which words are going to set someone off. So, in an effort to carefully navigate the minefield of spicy hot emotion and avoid getting myself into some sort of linguistic pickle, I’m writing today’s Food Truck Times post without using any word, phrase or description that might incite food people to anger.

Here goes:

The end.

Joe Miller and Cart for a Cause

With all of the indulgent food happenings in and around LA, it’s easy to forget that there are many people for whom eating even one meal a day is a luxury.

Enter Cart For A Cause, the LA chapter of St Vincents national Meals on Wheels program, and some of LA’s top chefs. Traveling through the city every Tuesday through the fall, Cart For A Cause supplies one meal to seniors for every meal that’s sold from the truck. With this kind of ratio, everybody wins!

Each movable feast is $10, and includes a lunch/snack/drink/dessert combo, often “delivered” (at least through the pick-up window), by the chef who prepared it. Such luminaries have included (so far): Joe Miller (Joe’s, Bar Pintxo), Sal Marino (Il Grano), Jean Francois (La Cachette Bistro), Susan Feniger (Street), Josef Centeno (Lazy Ox Canteen), Eric Greenspan (The Foundry), Vinny Dotolo and Jon Shook (Animal), David Myers and Dong Choi (Comme Ca) and Alex Becker (Nobu W. Hollywood). And there are many more to go until the truck [possibly] slows its roll in November.

I visited the cart on July 20th and was treated to Joe Miller’s chicken, spinach and ricotta raviolis, dressed with cherry tomato, arugula and Parmesan cheese. This was in addition to my choice of POM drink and cookie.

Joe's raviolis and heirloom tomato & burrata salad

My partner in repast, John, sampled the roasted pork banh mi sandwich. This Vietnamese/French hybrid was topped with sliced mortadella, cilantro, slightly pickled cucumber, jalapeno slices, daikon radish & carrot salad.

As if these weren’t treat enough, our meal also included a burrata, heirloom tomato and grilled melon salad.

Needless to say, everything was sensory perfection.

According to numbers posted on their Facebook page, Cart For A Cause has fed, to date, 2000 homebound seniors! That’s 2000 men and women who might not have had the luxury of a hot meal – or anything at all – to eat that day. It also equals 2000 sated and satisfied Angelenos (who, by-the-way, might not otherwise be able to afford the high cost of dining at one of the star chefs’ uber establishments). 4000 people, total, who – through hunger, charity and graciousness – have all shared in something universal: Food. If you subscribe to my philosophy that food and wine is love, that’s a whole lot of heart, Los Angeles. Be proud.

Happy Cup truck/trailer

Soup, in just about any of its scrumptious incarnations, is one of my “deserted island foods” (in addition to potatoes, grapes and a hot ‘n’ tasty individual who knows how to turn these gifts of gastronomy into my favorite alcoholic libations. Mmmm…alcoholic libations…). While the theory has never been tested, someone could wake me up at 3 in the morning and ask if I want to try some chowder and I would probably say yes. I bet I’d even do it without caffeine or one of those trusty grape or potato potations mentioned above. Man, I really love vodka soup.

When my pal Shevin, of the old VirtualTourist days (and current Foodie Fridays blog), suggested we reminisce about the bygone era over bowls of Happy Cup truck ramen, I instantly remembered why he was my favorite intern.

We met by the shiny new trucks as they sat, posing prettily, in front of the swanky office buildings on Wilshire Blvd. Turning down a side street, we left behind state-of-the-art mobile restaurants covered in bright graphics and lines for nouveau cuisine. In front of us was the worn and weary Happy Cup camper-turned-kitchen, attached to a sturdy workhorse of a pick-up truck, pouring its energy into generating enough electricity for heating giant pots of broth and bubbly comfort (similar to the amount of energy I don’t need, to write really long run-on sentences).

Happy Cup Truck white board menu

Shevin ordered his favorite stand-by, the Shoyu ramen (traditional Tokyo soy sauce soup base, with a slice of pork). I got the Tonkotsu ramen, which was described as “rich pork broth, thick and white, Southern Japan style.” All instincts to edit their menu descriptions aside, I ordered this soup because I was told it’s their specialty and only available on certain days. Thick, white, warm pork broth from southern areas should be reserved for only the most special of occasions.

Happy Cup Tonkotsu Ramen

Turns out the broth wasn’t terribly thick or white. It was, however, loaded with bean sprouts, green onion, diced mushroom and loads of perfectly cooked ramen noodles. The whole thing was topped with a single slice of roasted pork. The soup base was rich, balanced with soft, unfolding flavors of salt and umami.

Shevin’s soup was very similar, although his had added garlic and a different base. He described it as “perfectly well seasoned – not too salty, bland or watery,” and said it “hits the spot on a July gloom day.”

The only issue we took with our respective repasts was that the slice of pork – a solitary bit of meat awash in a sea of noodles – was small and very fatty. The oven-roasted flavor was excellent, but we felt like the protein portion should’ve been bigger, especially since so much meat was lost to fat.

Shevin’s soup cost him $5.50, and mine was a dollar more. That’s a great price for a big bowl of soup, although I do think that – compared to some of the other authentic ramen places around – we should’ve gotten more soup for the money. But I’m not really complaining.

In fact, my noodly bowl of pork broth goodness made me very, very happy. Have I mentioned how much I love soup?

Happy Cup

La Galette Creperie Truck

I don’t like to write negative reviews. It’s uncomfortable for me and – no doubt – distressing for the subject. I’d like to live in a world where we all can just get along.

But I have to admit to being very disappointed by the La Galette Creperie truck.

La Galette Creperie is actually a brick-and-mortar crepe shop in San Clemente, CA. According to this lovely SquidInk piece, the truck is an off-shoot of the cafe, serving the same kinds of “mostly organic and local ingredients” as the San Clemente spot. I love this! I love that it’s a family endeavor! And I love crepes!

The crepes we had, however, were not good. There just isn’t any way around it. We ordered a barbeque chicken crepe (maple barbeque chicken, caramelized onions, cilantro and cheddar cheese) (below) , a caprese crepe (fresh mozzarella, Roma tomatoes, fresh basil, Dijon balsamic dressing), and the “fresh strawberries and cream” crepe. That’s a lot of crepe for two people! And both of us walked away hungry and disappointed.

To start, the crepes themselves, those delicate egg/flour/milk pancakes cooked on a circular hot plate and traditionally filled with either sweet or savoring stuffings, were completely cold. Usually golden in color with curling, crisp edges, these crepes were a uniform beige – and spongy. The fillings inside – barbeque chicken, and tomato and cheese, respectively – really just…were. The chicken was average and the tomatoes were the standard, mealy, hothouse special found in grocery stores all across America (not the red, luscious Romas promised on the menu). The cheese was cheese.

La Galette Creperie truck barbeque chicken crepe

The dessert crepe would’ve been a dream come true…if I were celebrating my ninth birthday… The strawberry-filled pancake was gasping for air from underneath enormous layers of whipped cream and a smattering of…rainbow sprinkles.

Rainbow sprinkles.

La Galette Creperie strawberries and cream crepe

Like the savory crepes, the sweet version was also completely cold,  so there was none of the sensory satisfaction of experiencing warm and cool and sweet and a little savory all in one bite. For the amount of whipped cream pillowed ontop of the pancake, there really was nothing left upon mouth entry, because the cream was so pumped full of nothingness that it immediately dissolved into barely-there-cream-flavored air. We took a few bites and ended up pushing the rest around the styrofoam container as the cream thinned to sticky sauce and the uncomfortable-seeming and now-nearly-naked pancake quietly begged to be put out of its misery of mediocrity.

Les Galette Creperies (both the cafe and the food truck) are much-beloved on Yelp! The glowing reviews speak of warmth and comfort served daily, with steaming cups of coffee and giant heaps of love. It could be that we tried the truck on a bad day. A very, very, very bad day…

If you’ve had a different experience, please share your thoughts! I’m willing to try the truck again! – Probably.

Trucking in Walla Walla. The La Monarca truck

Last week I had the great pleasure of attending the 3rd annual Wine Blogger’s Conference, in Walla Walla, Washington. Three glorious days of drinking incredible wine, meeting fabulous people and gorging on sinfully decadent food. And the thing that really grilled my burrito is that all of this rejoicing began with lunch catered by two of the area’s Mexican Taco Trucks – Tacos La Monarca and Los Taquitos. Game on.

The first truck I tried was a festive blue-and-white number, painted with Monarch butterflies (la monarca). They featured a terrific, creative menu including adobada and campechano (beef and pork sausage) tacos, milanesa tortas and something called a pombazo. I made the mistake of asking them to surprise me with their specialty and received a plate of chicken and beef tacos. A little boring, but in their defense – I didn’t tell them I’m a professional…

Tacos La Monarca

When my order was ready, I found myself staring into the hot, steamy goodness of a chicken taco, a Walla Walla chicken taco and a Walla Walla beef taco. All of these were good, but not excellent. The chicken taco was standard-issue antojito of the type found at Mexican-American restaurants all across the country: Small chunks of white meat chicken, marinated and cooked in spices, served on a double layer of corn tortilla and topped – street style – with chopped onions and cilantro. I wouldn’t kick it out of bed, but also wasn’t prepared to start a long-term relationship with it, either.

I quickly learned that when one sees the descriptor “Walla Walla” on a menu, it is to be automatically assumed that said item comes smothered in those sugar-sweet onions named after the southeastern region of Washington State from whence they come. Such was the case with the Walla Walla chicken and beef tacos. These were served – like the “regular” chicken taco – on two corn tortillas. Unlike the simpler version, the Walla Walla tacos were topped with slices of cooked Walla Walla onion, melted cheese (Monterey Jack?), and strips of creamy avocado. They were quite good (although I challenge you to name anything that isn’t improved with grilled onions, melted cheese and avocado). All three tacos were instantly elevated by a bath of smooth-hot tomatillo salsa.

Purely in the name of journalism, I sacrificed myself and wandered forth to try another taco truck (for comparison, of course). This time I ordered from the Los Taquitos truck. This time I also asked for their specialty. And this time I again received chicken tacos.

Los Taquitos chicken tacos

Similar in every way to La Monarca, except better. These tacos were a little less cheesy but a lot more flavorful. The onions were packed with a richness usually seen from slow grilling with animal protein, with sprinklings of extra love. The Los Taquitos tacos were also more greasy, which in the worst of times means stomach ache and wasted calories, but in the best of times means enhanced flavor. Thankfully, as an apropos kickoff to the conference, these tacos were the best of times – like everything else on an extraordinary weekend.

Los Taquitos truck menu

Coolhaus ice cream sandwich truck

Memorial Day is the official start of summer – and summer means barbeques, beaches and ice cream. So on the Sunday of that relaxing warm-weather kickoff weekend, Z and I drove down to Venice to load up on as many of those as we could find.

We parked somewhere near Pacoima, knowing that even walking 500 miles or more, we would wind up with our toes in the sand sooner than those who were sitting in their cars, waiting for a highly coveted spot to open up near the water.

By the time we made it to Abbot-Kinney Blvd, a few blocks from the beach, it was definitely time for an ice cream break. We turned the corner and set off in search of icy, creamy treats. And as luck would have it, icy, creamy treats were not hard to find: Parked about a block off of Venice Blvd., in the parking lot of the Venice bar/institution, The Brig, a small crowd was gathering around the Coolhaus ice cream sandwich truck. Summer lovin’, indeed.

The Los Angeles food truck sensation has not escaped national attention, and the Food Network, as one might expect, has been along for the ride, hungrily covering all the haute culinary action, every step of the whey (see what I did there? That’s right – who’s umami, baby?!)… On this particularly sunny Sunday, the channel devoted to all things edible was about to start filming an episode of the soon-to-be-launched “Kid in a Candy Store” with Adam Gertler.

Image permissions granted, releases signed and air times noted, it was time to get down to the important business: choosing an ice cream sandwich.

According to the website…

“Coolhaus consists of all-natural handmade ice creams of classic and seasonal varieties or custom-made to suit your needs, packed between two cookies of your choice.”

The day we were there, the Coolhaus ice cream menu consisted of: blood orange, coffee toffee, dirty mint chip, peanut butter, brown butter w/candied bacon, lambrusco, mascarpone balsamic fig, and pistachio w/black truffles. For cookies, they had on offer: chocolate, chocolate chip, ginger, oatmeal raisin, snickerdoodle and brioche.

Cool to go

With the line behind us growing exponentially longer, I didn’t have a chance to try every flavor (but I will be back for more!). So I skipped my traditional favorite (chocolate chip mint – “dirty mint” at Coolhaus), and sampled the mascarpone balsamic fig and the pistachio with black truffles. The black truffle ice cream was earthy. Earthy as earthy can be, in fact. Served cold. When co-owner Natasha purred from the window of the converted postal truck, “Isn’t that amaaaazing?” I quickly agreed, but I hadn’t actually decided how I felt. It was very good, but it wasn’t exactly sweet – at least not traditional “ice cream sweet” – which isn’t bad, but would take either a little getting used to, or maybe a more ice cream-esque flavor to balance against it. In any event, it didn’t seem very Memorial Day Beach Trip Treat to me, so I went with the mascarpone balsamic fig on snickerdoodle.

The mascarpone balsamic fig is like the best dream you have ever had, if in that dream you were eating ice cream made from of a yogurt-like cheese that was hiding rich mouthfuls of balsamic-macerated fig within its creamy center. (And, also, in that dream, if a camera for a national television program was trained on you as you took big, food porn bites of sticky ice cream and crumbly cookie, while trying to look like a grown-up mommy in front of your kid, but aware that small streams of ice cream were melting over your hands and face and dripping onto the sidewalk while you stumbled through descriptions of chewy fig and perfectly balanced sweet/salty/sour. If you ever had a dream like that, then you know exactly what it was like to eat my Coolhaus sammie.) It was the richest, creamiest, most luxurious ice cream I have ever had (which is the only thing I remember telling the TV people).

For Z’s part, he seemed completely unphased by the chaos around him and remained 100% focused on the business of consuming his blood orange ice cream on snickerdoodle snack.

Z's Haus

The blood orange (aka “Orange Julius Shulman“) tasted…not surprisingly…like orange. It was solidly citrus-y, creamy and good. It wasn’t the very picture of ice cream perfection, or a case study in the ice cream movement – if you will – but it was satisfying, and Z’s only complaint was that he couldn’t eat it fast enough.

You can follow the Coolhaus truck on twitter and on facebook, where they are making “architecture [digitally] digestible.” You can follow Z and my interview on Food Network‘s “Kid in a Candy Store” on July 13 (check local listings for times).

Kassava Truck

So…How do you eat so much?

Simple, really. Because you’re eating from the Kassava Truck (warning – or recommendation – site is blastin’ the Marley tunes. Adjust your speakers accordingly).

The Kassava Trucks (there are two), are fresh from the proverbial oven of Kassava restaurant on 3rd Street in Los Angeles. Many of the food trucks are a method for dishing juicy morsels of food gossip about a hot new chef. They ease start-up costs while whetting the local appetite for a brick-and-mortar space; but Kassava was already serving up scrumptious (if somewhat pricey) portions in their own location long before the food truck trend got started.

Kassava Truck

It very much feels like Kassava’s impetus behind going mobile was a desire to bring their food to the masses. And maybe they also wanted to ride the trend a little (and who can blame them? It’s a very good trend, quoth the food truck blogger…)

The website describes Kassava’s food as “a blend of French Antilles/Caribbean & Jamaican cuisine.” Co-owners Marie France Levostre and Pras Michel (of The Fugees‘ fame) are from Martinque and Haiti, respectively. The trucks, however, are [nearly] 100% pure Jamaican. This isn’t fancy, fiddly or fine dining – it’s street food. It’s also less expensive than the sit-down place, which helps add an air of authenticity. Cheap, hearty and delicious Jamaican food? Yes mon!

To experience the Kassava Truck, my friend John and I ordered one each of the jerk chicken and the brown stew chicken. To wash it down, we shared an Old Jamaican ginger beer.

Kassava jerk chicken

The jerk chicken was served atop a bed of peas (beans) and rice, next to a small hill of plantains, and a pastel scoop of steamed cabbage. The overall experience was yum.

The chicken was bone-in (messy, harder to eat than boneless chunks, but light years more flavorful than untethered pieces of white meat) – and, surprisingly, not very spicy. Which is not to say it was flavorless; the chicken was saturated with flavor – this wasn’t just a skin-rubbed spicing; the meat tasted like it had been basted in juices and seasonings for hours. Combined with the fact that it was fall-off-the-bone tender, I was a happy, happy girl.

Rice and beans (called peas in Jamaican creole), are ubiquitous to Caribbean food. What is less common is the perfect balance of butter/spice/nuttiness dished up by the Kassava folks. And when I say “butter/spice/nuttiness,” big up uno dem**, I’m not kidding. The rice was spicier than the jerk chicken and gleaming with butter. Sweet, sweet butter. And salt. I loved the rice so much I almost licked the container it came in – but a regular diet of the stuff will kill you. Although you’d die happy…

The plantains were cooked velvety-soft, but firm enough to maintain their burnt-orange structure. Sweet – but not too sweet. A small serving, but just right.

The steamed cabbage was my least favorite of the meal. It’s not that it was bad, it just wasn’t all that great. Slightly pickled steamed cabbage, carrots and onion, together in a sort of Caribbean coleslaw. It was really just okay.

Kassava brown stew chicken

John’s brown stew chicken was a dish I’d never tried before but instantly knew I’d be ordering again. It’s actually less of a stew than meat simmered for hours in a surprisingly sweet sauce containing brown sugar, caramelized onion and spices. I loved it – and I’m usually more of a savory girl.

Kassava is also known for their roti and their meat patties. Between us, our jerk and chicken stew dishes were the perfect size for lunch, and I couldn’t bring myself to pile on, but this LA Times review of the Kassava restaurant gives some hearty descriptions of the other items:

…Jamaican patties, empanada-like pies, are flaky of crust and bulging with jerk chicken, saucy stewed beef or vegetables, and they make a substantial foundation for a satisfying supper with salad or soup.

Kassava’s roti is sumptuous. The soft, thin, slightly flaky griddle bread, wrapped around chunks of Gil’s curry chicken or curry goat and dipped into its spice-infused sauce, possesses a combination of flavor and texture that vies with the perfect Parisian pastry or the very best taco. Roti is also the ideal absorbent for the rich, satiny sauce of coconut shrimp, though the pairing may not be traditional.

To summarize: freakin’ yum.

Everything cook and curry at Kassava, so sidung – feel no way – just eat.***

Vizzi Truck

We’ve all heard the expressions: Big hat, no cattle. All mouth, no trousers. All flash, no substance.

In this case, despite the presence of a souped-up A/V system and other spiffy accoutrement, I am happy to report that the Vizzi Truck does not fall into the category of all sizzle, no steak. To be honest, their steak is actually quite good…

My regular lunch buddy in tow, I met up with the Vizzi boys at my usual stretch of Wilshire Blvd. How anyone avoids trying this truck is hard to imagine. Phat and blingin’, with three (count ‘em) flat screen TV’s, they’re the ADHD Generation’s new best friend and worst stereotype; we who are always distracted by things that are…Oooh – look there! – sparkly!

Gee Whizzi Truck (image from MySpace)

Sorry – anyway…But if the shine and flash draw attention, the food actually delivers (and I’m not just saying that because it’s made in a truck. Bah dum bum!). John and I ordered the BBQ Wagyu Beef & Broccoli and the Black Skillet Jidori Chicken & Broccoli, between us. While waiting for these bits of healthy deliciousness to be prepared, Zach The Sous Chef brought us a small salad of baby heirloom tomatoes, pickled red onions, olives, queso fresco and a balsamic reduction. Amuse bouche from a food truck?! Yes, please!

Vizzie Truck experimental salad

Both of our dishes were presented in waxed cardboard boxes of the Whole Foods variety, and served with a side of yakima salt popcorn. Yep – popcorn. Yeah, it’s a little weird. Not as a stand-alone snack, mind you – the mushroom [porcini] smoked spice is delicious. I would trade it over movie popcorn any day of the week. But as a side dish? Probably not so much. The reasoning makes sense: Part of the vision behind the Vizzi Truck is to create healthy meals, which automatically rules out offering delightfully fat-packing french fries (much to my chagrin). I guess the boys felt like rice was a little boring, so – viola! – popcorn. And it’s…fine…with food, but I have to admit, when mixed into a bite of creamy honey-carrot puree, the whole thing gets a little strange.

But the rest of it? Not wacky in the slightest! The BBQ Wagyu Beef & Broccoli is described as: Slow braised beef with caramelized broccoli, local honey-carrot puree and pimento-spiced yakima salt popcorn. Garnished with chimichurri and cilantro-scallion. I described it as: Mmmmmmmm.

Vizzie Truck BBQ Wagyu Beef and Broccoli

The Australian wagyu beef was slow-cooked to satiny, fork-tender deliciousness. Our broccoli delivered just the right amount of snap-crunch, and – even if a bit like baby food – the honey-carrot puree was so dreamy I doubt Gerber can compare. When mixed together, the beef/broccoli/carrot combo was a luscious, sensual mouthful of stringy, soft, creamy with just the slightest satisfying chomp.

Black Skillet Jidori Chicken and Broccoli

The Black Skillet Jidori Chicken is “garlic marinated then skillet seared [chicken], dressed with chimichurri finished with Dave’s hot sauce. [It's] accompanied by caramelized broccoli, local honey-carrot puree, and pimento-spiced yakima salt popcorn.” It’s really, really good. The “green” flavor of the chimichurri shows up much better against the delicate chicken than the richer beef. There is a sexy spice and satisfying crispness not present in the smooth wagyu. But I actually preferred the beef to the chicken. Call me crazy; that’s how I roll.

Vizzie Maple Crack...I mean Cookie

We finished our meal with the best Maple Burst cookies I’ve ever had in my life. Pecans, maple and toffee chips. Seriously, it’s worth every day I’ll be too embarrassed to wear a swimsuit this summer. And then some. I honestly had half a mind to go Gollum on John, swiping his cookie and ducking behind a building. Sitting on my heels. Rocking back and forth. “My preccccccioooooous.” But I didn’t – just so you know.

The Vizzi boys describe their truck as “Bistro style cuisine out of a truck.” With a sound system. And occasional live DJs. And honey-carrot puree and cookies. Vizzi = Visionary, and I say they are visionary, indeed. You know the expression, “All bark, no bite?” Whoever came up with that saying, clearly hadn’t taken a bite from the Vizzi Truck.

Vizzi's Chad