Chet J.'s Profile

Uuuuuuuuuugh....

I've dreaded and put off writing this review, because I feel like I'm in 8th grade again and EVERYONE loves this new hit band, "New Kids On the Block". Like even "the jocks" were jamming out to "Hangin' Tough" as warm-up music before basketball games and wrestling matches...

... then there was me, still deeply immersed in the hot trends of Hyper-Color t-shirts, overalls with one strap undone, Starter jackets, and "the wet look" for hair styles... but simply could not conceive why anyone thinks "You've Got It" is a hot single.  And I wasn't even a music snob! I liked Kriss Kross.  Pfft, who am I kidding, "liked", as in past-tense?  Try LOVE, as in RIGHT NOW.  "Daddy Mac will make you, JUMP JUMP!"... ahhh, good times.

Daikokuya is the "Pinks" of downtown, in that there is never, NOT a huge line/wait.  I've lived downtown for 4 years and in passing, I always thought it was, like, some trendy Asian club or something.  Like that club in Blade, where Wesley Snipes goes in and it's filled with nothing but older Japanese business men in Rayban Wayfarer sunglasses, all fixated on these chicks who look like Sailor Moon singing to some throbbing techo beat.  Man, that movie was awesome.

Huh?  Oh yeah.... so Daikokuya is everyone else in 8th grade who loved New Kids, and I, a lover of ramen/noodles, am left scratching my head as to why I don't find this worth waiting 45minutes-hour for.  And just like 8th grade, am I a loser for not liking?

....in their defense, there's basically nothing I'd wait 45 minutes for.  Unless it was for tickets to a Kriss Kross concert.

Anyway, their ramen is REALLY bland.  Pork is fatty and tasteless (just like Donnie Walberg) And they put a whole, hard-boiled egg in the mix... like, gross.  

HOWEVER, their one shining redemption makes up for everything: easily the BEST Gyoza I've EVER had, by far.  And I'm a Gyoza snob.  These guys make it like nothing I've ever tasted before, so if you're lackluster on the ramen, triple up on the Gyoza order.  Pretty much only reason I'm giving 3 stars.

Let's face facts: I am awesome.  At 30, I still retain my model good-looks of my 20-something past-self; I'm actually in better shape, too, having added 2 more abs to my already shredded 6-pack; I recently received a cheese-grader from Sur La Table as a loft-warming gift.... it was returned; no need of it-- I can use my abs.  

What else?  Tall with dark features and penetrating hazel eyes;  some would use the word "mysterious"... I would say, "haunting".   But lets dispense with the superficial: integrity, like a mountain;  my gold-heart is actually used to back the value of the dollar in Peru.  Oh yeah... I also know Kung-fu, yet would never use it for personal gain, only to defend the weak and helpless.  And thwart pirates.

....yes, I am awesome.  And where do awesome people go to eat?  Why, Chin-Ma-Ya, naturally.  Their delicious ultra-fresh ramen cooked and severed in a spicy, peanut sauce is indeed a feast fit for the gods.  For mortals and/or the casual, pedestrian diner, when prompted by your sever, I would elect no higher than "medium" for the degree of spice of your Tan-Tan Men (but for heroes, I'd go all the way).

They've got a few more items on their menu, but like most Asian cuisine, when I find something I like, I rarely ever deviate.  Some would call that un-adventurous; I call it cutting the bull*#^&.

Make sure to check out their happy-hours, because who doesn't like .99 cent Kiran drafts?  

Ok, I'm off to go work-out.  What gym, you ask?  Ha, I don't go to a "gym".  I go to a junk yard in Riverside and bench press old SUV's.

The Edison is equal parts wonderful and horrible.  It's the Matthew McConaughey of bars.  Sure it's fun, pretty, and charming as hell... but also a little douchey and has made some pretty poor career choices.  

But if you stopped me on the street, and asked if I liked Matthew McConaughey, I'd be like, "Eeeeh... yeah, sure.  He seems like a nice guy."  I don't want to go pick out drapes with the man, and his name solely on the marquee alone won't get me to go see his movie... but if he has a supporting role or part of an ensemble cast, I know he'll more than likely deliver and I'll have a good time watching the flick.

I live just down the street from The Edison, so I've been there enough where sometimes I feel like I'm watching, "Ghosts of Girlfriends Past" and sometimes it's been "Tropic Thunder".  

If you're an Edison-virgin, you'll be easily seduced by its size, decor, class, and atmosphere.  It's the anti-Hollywood bar.

If you're an Edison-slut, you will have 'done' the Edison enough times where the aesthetic-veneer has worn away enough to see it for what it really is: a TOTAL Hollywood bar...

... pretentious lines boasting 45min to an hour wait, when the place is big enough to successfully house most of El Segundo... hypocritical dress-codes where they'll refuse someone with suede shoes, but let in some 50 y.o. mullet a-hole with acid-wash jeans and a hyper-color t-shirt (not kidding; actually saw this dude in there and he was NOT being hipster/ironic).... pricey drinks don't help their cause, but I won't complain about it too much, because it makes me sound like a cheapskate.  

...yet....

Ah, Hell, just like Matty Mac, you kinda can't resist the guy;  just so damn charming, light, and fun... you just gotta like some of his movies... and I have had some of the best nights of my LA life at the Edison.

Tips for the Edison: get there early!  Like, no later that 9:30pm.... and especially if you're trying to impress your mid-western cousin who's in town for the first time; they'll start bitching about "L.A." if they have to stand in line for more than 10mins.  If you're just TOO cool to go out before 12am, make a dinner reservation and go straight to the front of the line.  You don't need to buy $400 bottle of vodka, but you have to order dinner... which really just means get lots of appetizers.  Hmmmm....lobster corndogs....

Tips for Matthew McConaughey:  He likes to be the inner-spoon and don't eat your cereal too loud.  He HAAAATES that.

Have you ever had a threesome with twins?  If you answered yes, you're lying.  And I don't keep company with liars, you lying liar.  Secondly, wouldn't that be a little weird for the twins?  I mean, do people just turn a blind eye to the fact it's totally incest?  Do they get a "pass" like hot lesbians... it's just "playful and fun"?  Dunno.  Kinda creeps me out, though.

But what DOES NOT creep me out is the new SKB burger, offered by ShinBBQ.  The "bun" is made up of two crispy-rice patties, and the 'burger' is a heaping serving of their bulgogi meat.  Finished off with some kind of mildly spicy sauce.... I can't decide what is the best thing about this wonderful magicalfulness that is now part of my life.  

The two halves of the crispy-rice "bun" seem like the "twins" and I'm the bulgogi meat in the middle.  And the three of us together in an explosion of passionate-taste makes me feel so wrong, yet so right.

I've never had anything like this before... which is why I question its moral-standings in a conventional society... much like a threesome with twins...

...I'm afraid this is so unique and so unorthodox that it may bring into question my very integrity when enjoying something with such fierce gluttony and indulgence.

I'm not mature enough for this bar.

...We'll glaze over the fact that I'm 30, still making under $30k a year, and have zero in savings... and the only thing still going for me are impossible good-looks, which I'm sure will fade only too soon, what with the pollution and UV's attacking my sweet, sweet face...

Don't get me wrong, this place is great... I just think there's a little too much frat-boy left-over in me, which is both sad and pathetic, but hey, it is what it is.

...it's not the fact that all non-beer beverages are $12 and over; Hell, any loser Hollywood "it" club will charge at least that for well-vodka and soda water.... and I DO appreciate all the skill, time, and effort that the Varnish *bartenders* put into each individual drink...

...it's just what with my beer-bong chugging abilities ingrained into my very being, I cannot have a drink set in front of me and "savor" it.  Down the hatch it goes... no time for love, Dr. Jones!  And when I spend $50 on just 3 drinks for myself, and 20 minutes later I am literally flushing that $50 down the toilet... I just can't abide, nor can I give Varnish my patronage on a regular basis.

As others have pointed out, this place is a great spot for first-dates; it's small, intimate, and you can impress your date by flaunting your massive wealth by buying many rounds.

Just get there at 9:30pm or before (Fri/Sat).  Small venue means capacity is very limited and the line forms fast.

(*they prefer the moniker, 'Mixologists'; which still sounds fey to me)...

When you were in high school, did you ever look at the most beautiful, most popular girl in the school, and rationalize to yourself that something (maybe a lot of things) are wrong with her that the rest of us are not privy to.  

You just HAD to tell yourself things like that, as it was the only way you could go on living, because the sheer fact that she IS so beautiful and so wonderful, and you, being a total loser-geek-dork, who was in marching-band and Key Club, could not play a sport, and who, at 17, still only had baby-hair for pub---

...Anyway, point is, you'd never stand a chance with her, so you lie to yourself, making up shortcomings about her that you'd eventually convince yourself existed, just so you could say, "Meh, I don't see what the big deal is about her..."

Well, I hate to say it, but the head cheerleader, prom queen, and the most beautiful, most popular girl in high school is Louie Bottega...  and she's perfect.  I've looked hard for shortcomings.  I've tried to make-up lies about her just to spite and make me feel like I'm too good for her... but really, it's that she's too good for me.  

Some girls really DO have it all.

You know when your parents get divorced, and your mom starts bringing home all these random guys.  You're spiteful and resentful towards most of them... then eventually just one guy keeps showing up.  You're very stand-offish at first, because, well F... why should you trust him?  He's not your dad!  But hey, dad ain't around anymore either.

So, this new guy is, like, ALWAYS around now.  You try to ignore him, but that only works for so long.  Eventually you must confront him... test him out, see how deep he really is; see how serious he is....

And you know what, turns out once you give him a chance, he ain't so bad!  In fact, you kinda like him.  He lets you do what you want.  He has this underlying insecurity and constantly (secretly) seeking your approval, because he knows your mom will always put YOU first, so he kisses ass so he can keep doin' your mom, even though they think you've been asleep for an hour and don't hear them...

... wait, what the hell am I talking about?  

Hmmmm... reading over this, I think "the new guy" is Syrup somehow, and, uh...your "real dad" was maybe LA Cafe?  Because that place left me for douchey, yuppie Hollywood-transplants (see previous review)... but that doesn't really make sense because LA Cafe was never a desert speciality place... but we indeed are estranged.

....I don't know, just go to Syrup, because it's goooood 'eatins.  

However, the service, while harmless, always seems a little aloof.

And PS: that's twice now I've gone and your yogurt machine hasn't been "ready".  Get on it people!  I hate walking to Little Toyko for Pinkberry!  It's far and their are always some really smelly people along the way.

Man, glazing over other people's review of this place, you'd think only Hitler and child molesters ate here.  I'm no sushi connoisseur, but I AM a "getting-plastered savant", and this place is a blast!

I have never, ever, in my life, EVER been to a sit-down restaurant, where not only is a freakin' beer-bong on the menu, but the sushi chefs actually come out and do one with you!  I mean, what's not to love folks?!

I think finer-palated people will shun this place, due its lack of "refinement"... that is, the rowdy group in the corner loudly chanting, "Sake-bomb! Sake-bomb! Sake-bomb" whilst pounding the table with their fists in order to make a shot of sake, balanced on chopsticks, laid across a pint of Saboro, fall into said pint and immediately chug, cheer, and repeat (GUILTY!).

A few of those and anything on their menu is oh-so-tasty, despite it not being prepared by Katsu-ya.  

So I guess it's fair to say, "real" sushi lovers pioneering for top-places maybe should look elsewhere, but for a good time with a group of friends, look no further.

**UPDATE***

I may have to break-up with LA Cafe.  I love you baby, but I've recently found out you're cheating on me.  Please just be honest, because I've seen you with "them".  You're whoring yourself out to the enormous douche-bag yuppies that have suddenly invaded Spring St. over the last couple of months.  

With SB Lofts opening of their newest building on the corner of Spring and 7th, and with ridiculously cheap rent to boot, LA Cafe has reaped the benefits of the influx of lame, stupid-faced, Hollywood transplants, who, after going to the art-walk once or twice, decided they wanted to stow-away inside downtown's semi-cool community and populate and spoil our echelon with their stupid white-fluffy dogs, Gap khakis, and lame Clark Kent haircuts.

I've been going to LA Cafe every Saturday and Sunday for two years, and this past Sunday, at my normal arrival time, there was not only nary a table available, but an actual line out the door to order.  And the wait wasn't due to the usual douche-able FIDIM poser/hipsters-- I'm used to those losers-- it was full of the same awful people you'd find holding court at Toast or Kings Road Cafe in Hollywood.

Where did you vile people come from?!  Go back home to your Spanish-style homecomb adobe dwellings!

Am I a class warrior?  A social snob?  A *bleepin* ass&$%le?  Yeah, probably.  But I want my downtown back, and I want my LA Cafe back.

**UPDATE***

Well, well, well.... look who FINALLY joined the 21st century and got themselves a brand new shiny fancy-pants credit-card machine.  

Now that you're not living in the dark ages, I will commence charging ever last Visa dollar (that I haven't forked over to "L.A. Singles Hotline") on your absolutely delicious coffee.  

Seriously folks: this place is as good as it gets.