Michael B.'s Profile

It's good. But there was something just wrong about the coffee. They may do it right, but I can't just sit there for thirty minutes stirring the sweet milky gook off the bottom of the glass.

I'm giving Bhatti five stars, because as stands in my tradition, if you show me something I've never seen before then you get five. This is the second most classy Indian joint I've ever been to. The first is somewhere in Cupertino or Palo Alto, I forget which. What was extraordinary about this particular place was that the head waiter could actually pretend to be snotty. He gave one of our party a look like.. duh, I probably speak English better than you. He didn't say anything, but I caught the look. This from an Indian is something special, but the order in response came back swiftly and accurately - mango lassi by the way.

Most importantly, the attitude is backed up by the finest tandoori meat plate I have ever had. With lamb and chicken combined into little weiner-like shapes all crusted over with dark red and brown deliciousness. it was a smash it.

Everything our monstrous party had from the menu was fairly standard fare, but each tasted a cut above. It was recommended by somebody from Mumbai in our party, so we had an inkling it would be good - and of course there were many Indians there (and waiting on the sidewalk to get in) but that's not always a good sign. After all, I get hungry for McDonalds in Paris, don't you?

The rice was perfect and the service, for a party our size (11) was right on time. This is definitely a place for lunch. Do it.

I have been to Little Italy once, and I lived in NY for years. How could it be that I have missed this joint? Well, miss no more.

I have to confess that I'm walking down the street and these guys are outside like freakshow barkers trying to get me to come in to this or that restaurant. Some tradition. So by the time I've gone a block or two, I'm not even wanting to look at menus. But I got used to it and did my old thing: OK you're so good mister, sell me. And the guy starts talking about Google and the fishmongers in Chinatown. What? But I figure if he can appreciate somebody else's fish, this place might not be so bad.

I take the table outside at the corner, because I'm good looking and having me there will attract customers. Everybody knows this, you see. The barker recommends the Osso Buco. I was thinking the same thing, but instead I go for the clams in white sauce. Then he convinces me to upgrade to the fruita de mare, which I gotta have since I'm half from New Orleans. Let's put these guys seafood to the test, eh?

It was evil good - which is like so wicked good that you feel guilty about it. A massive meal with all my favorites, lobster, shrimp, scallops, clams...That and two Bombay & tonics and I was set to wobble home. Which I did. But I will be back.

I would not recommend going here like a tourist with your grandma and your babies. You're just going to stand in the Disneyland line. You gotta go like a big shot. Otherwise the service is going to be spotty. But the sauce was the boss. Fits me right.

I don't like Indian food. But this I like. I think I am getting luckier each time in finding high quality versions of the crap I've been eating all of my life. Utsav is a high end joint with a generous buffet. Perfect for a quick or long lunch. The spinach is bonkers.

There's only one problem with New American - which is that they tend to assume that everyone is on a diet. It's a fair assumption because most people who can afford to blow 100 bucks on a meal are probably that fastidious. Me? I just like to eat good food and tell off-color jokes. Since I had the private dining experience at wd-50, I could laugh as loud as I wanted.

Even for jaded road warriors like me who are apt to say about different food combinations - it all goes down the same hole - I have never seen such a variety of ingredients combined. Dude must be back there with a Kabbalah random number generator to come up with these. Two words, tobasco & caviar. I didn't try that one, but that's your first clue.

What I did have was an amazingly poofy foie gras with beets and sweets that made me hungry for more wine and thirsty for the main course which was a multitextured sea bass.  It  seemed almost engineered to have a marvelously crispy skin outside of the moist meat - like they cooked them in separate heats or methods and then stitched them together for presentation.

Maybe I'm thinking about Molecular Gastronomy, which is what Chef D is pioneering out here. Don't ask me about the details, but the results are kinda fascinating.

Service is the new world class, in the way that Steve Jobs makes business casual. You get the best, but it's all dressed in soft cotton, not starched. Or maybe it's something about the best New York waitstaff that don't need to be actors and thus puff up their presentation. Every motion spoiled us and the surprises kept coming.

So here's the thing that makes the rank of the fifth star, which as my readers know, is only given when I get something I have never gotten before. This time that magic word is dirt. Yes dirt.

Have you ever been in the open air after a summer shower and you smell the fresh dirt? If you know that experience, you know how wonderful it is to be alive. But have you ever thought for a moment how somebody might translate that into something edible? That's what I experienced last night. I don't know how, but there was this crumbly stuff in my palate cleanser after the main course, presaging something in my desert that was like eating earth. It was such a magnificent surprise that it completely blew away my fat gutted snark about the minimalist California portion trend in New American. (Especially considering my recent trip to JacquesImo in New Orleans). Maybe that was the Forbidden Rice or one of the other exotic ingredients for which I have only the slimmest vocab, but it was a sock knocker.

They say that the job of the best restaurant is to delight, which is a tall order for us rich, jaded, spoiled, loud mouthed Americains. How do you provide such a casual luxury? I only know it when I see it, and that's what wd-50 did.

You know, it's funny how easy it is to make a good hamburger. So why don't more joints do so? The Habit makes a simple, delicious burger with fresh ingredients that don't melt into a greasy mush. And that's good, but not really great.

The style is different and the menu nicely varied with really low prices. They are just inches from being something of a sensation. Way better than most all of the chains, but not really as good as In N Out and not really close to Fatburger.

The style of burger is like a mini-Fatburger, in fact. And they put in delicious stuff like a big chunk of avocado. My strawberry shake had good flavor, but the consistency of a Starbucks frappuccino. More ice-cream please.

The Habit has the menu to make it four stars. Just a little bit better execution, and two bathrooms accessible from the inside, please.

Jocko's is one of those places that makes for a good judge of character. Which is to say if you're the kind of person who expects a 'dining experience' and you apply that standard, I don't want to introduce you to my mother. Jocko's is the kind of place you go to when you're good and hungry and you want to treat your friends to a first class steak - not if you're trying to impress people with your savoir faire. So once again I have to come out swinging at the dainty people who start talking about how they weren't treated like royalty. Jeez. Go to Chateau Marmont, princess.

Jocko's is odd because it's just off the highway and is just in the style of a legendary truckstop with perfect meats and pies, except it's more a family style restaurant and expanded biker bar, expanded. In other words, Jocko's is too big for its britches but holds up with good old American grit.

I happened to be in the joint with a third generation rancher from up the road who has got his brand on the wall. If you didn't notice it when you came in, there are real local brands here, and he pointed out the spot where you can plug yours in on a day it's not busy and make your mark. (Cattle brands are electric these days) . So now you get it. This is a steak house for people who grow beef, and you should get the flavor of the ag folks who come in and monkey 'round.

One of the fine cues that you're in a restaurant where they take pride is when your water boy can top off your glass from a foot above table level without picking up your glass or spilling a drop. Then when they serve a table of 11 clockwise within 2 minutes of the first entree hitting the table, you know notice something like perfectionism is going on. Perfectionism as opposed to professionalism.  (Professionals do a good job, smile, shake your hand, give you a business card, and try to make sure you're satisfied. Perfectionists do an excellent job and let the work speak for itself). My New York Strip was perfect. Also, fine props go to the pickle plate and a perfectly satisfying green salad in a bowl the chunky bleu cheese dressing.

So here's where I say my little thing. Remember that burger joint in the Ayn Rand book where the people smoked dollar cigarettes? That's the kind of attitude people here have about the food, drinks and service. Jocko's is a perfect unspoiled American roadside restaurant - perfect for unspoiled Americans.

Hooray for #47.

I could never expect to get such a prime spot at the height of any season, but I got a great deal at SSTR this past weekend. I've got to say that for the price, it's really great.

So it's the middle of August and I'm at a ski resort. Two bedroom, two story condo with a patio and a balcony. The patio has a jacuzzi, the balcony has a gas grill. Can't beat that. It's close to the front, so you're just 30 feet from your car.

All your generic amenities are in place and a nice big table for dining. Wifi is a joke. There's no AC and the ceiling fans barely make a difference, so if it's going to be over 80 degrees, I'd think twice. Other than that. Just right.

You may never have to put up with what I did this weekend. I hope you don't. In the middle of my vacation, crap hits the fan at work. So I have to VPN in and work out a problem with my system that's going out of beta.

So I need broadband, right? In the middle of nowhere. So I have to go to Starbucks. Forgettabaoutit. This joint's wifi is slower than molasses going uphill in the wintertime on Pluto during Einsteinian time dilation recorded with ESPN super slow mo. With the Tivo on pause.  Which is to say this: I got three 3G bars on my iPhone, turned on personal hotspot and was talking at the same time on my phone which is now turning hot as a charcoal briquette and it was still faster than the purported wifi of this gyp joint. Clearly, you get what you pay for.

And where do they get the wooden chairs, a Marquis de Sade online auction? Is that some sort of trick to keep people from sitting there too long? I've been more comfortable in a half body traction.

There is only one benefit to Starbucks. Free electricity, and it's quieter than McDonalds. Sometimes.

I know it's crazy to give a four star review to a supermarket, but I swear every time I go to Big Bear I am so happy to shop at this Vons.

First of all, they are never out of anything. In fact they are always so stocked that I end up buying more than I want. My last trip, I just was so jazzed to be on vacation I went nuts.

But look at me. I'm your typical urban professional road warrior business traveler. I know just about every creature comfort known to the top end frequent flyers. So when I get to rough it for a few days hours and hours away from serious broadband, I appreciate the chance to go into town and stock up on good stuff.

This particular time out, I decided at the spur of the moment that I wanted some extra thick juicy steaks. So I went to the butcher and we had a discussion about beef. He did me a solid and went back to the locker and brought a fresh slab out, cut me some bomb-ass 18oz ribeyes and gave me a discount to boot. It just doesn't get any better than that.

Well, actually it does. I got up to the front and got into the wrong (express) line. I didn't have fifteen items - it was more like enough for fifteen people. But when I got up to the front it was all good. I ended up spending something like $270 - and really feeling that corny feeling like what a great country of plenty we live in, and all these helpful people just here to make my vacation the best it could be. I donated some extra money to the charity Vons was promoting that day and they dinged a bell and announced it over the loudspeaker and gave me a couple free bags of flavored popcorn.

As I went out to the lot, I realized that I have this same goofy warm feeling every time I shop at this Vons whether it's winter or summer. Just a great experience.