Roasted-Root-Vegetable Shepherd’s Pie
Are we getting all Conscious Omnivore this year? Because although I’ve eaten my share of Evan Funke’s diver-harvested whatever and slow-roasted whosit at Rustic Canyon when I’ve been lucky enough to snag a reservation, what sticks out seems to be a plate of crisp, garlicky Jerusalem artichokes so good that I spent weeks trying to duplicate it at home, and a roasted-root-vegetable shepherd’s pie — a rustic creation of tubers, roots and rhizomes blanketed with buttery mashed potatoes — that couldn’t have been better if it were made with wild hare or French blood sausage rather than roasted turnips and parsnips, and I don’t think there is a higher compliment I can pay. Marie Antoinette, a noted carnivore who nonetheless once attended a ball with potato flowers in her hair, would have approved. 1119 Wilshire Blvd., Santa Monica, (310) 393-7050 or www.rusticcanyonwinebar.com.
1119 Wilshire Blvd.
Santa Monica, CA 90401
Category: Bars/Clubs
Region: Santa Monica
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Mole
Los Angeles is blessed with what must be the highest concentration of Oaxacan restaurants outside the motherland, and every Angeleno who cares about such things has an opinion of his favorite moles, fiendishly complex sauces made with pantries full of herbs, chiles and sweet spices, burnt bread and chocolate, nuts and seeds and fruits. Oaxaca has seven famous varieties, most of which are as available in certain neighborhoods here as cheeseburgers. But the new Moles La Tia, a homely, elegant dining room in the Maravilla neighborhood of East Los Angeles, bumps moles to a different level, inflecting them with such things as coffee and passion fruit, serving mole Poblano, a white wedding mole, a Michoacan-style machamantales and southern-Mexican pepian in addition to the traditional Oaxacan varieties, and paying nearly as much attention to the veal, shrimp or grilled pork that the mole happens to be blanketing as it does to the sauce itself. If you’ve ever wanted to try ink-black Oaxacan mole on roasted quail instead of reboiled chicken, this is the place. 4619 E. Cesar Chavez Ave., L.A., (323) 263-7842 or or www.moleslatia.com.
Although Southern California has long been one of the richest agricultural regions on Earth, until recently, our bounty has tended to come in the form of avocados and citrus rather than in meat; in nuts and salad greens instead of seafood, at least since the collapse of the tuna, sardine and mackerel fisheries. But no less an authority than Alain Ducasse says our local spot prawns might be the best shrimp in the world. There is very decent baby abalone grown near Santa Barbara now. And in your strolls through the Santa Monica or Hollywood farmers markets, you may have bumped into the stands from Carlsbad Aquaculture, a company sustainably raising superb scallops, mussels and abalone in a clean lagoon north of San Diego. Best of all are the Luna oysters: a hint of cucumber, a rush of sweet brine, a bit of crispness, a worthy local entrant into the bivalve pantheon. Santa Monica Farmers Market, Wednesdays and Saturdays at Arizona Ave. and 2nd St., www.smgov.net, and Hollywood Farmers Market, Sundays at Ivar Ave. and Selma Ave., www.farmernet.com.
Cassoulet
The kitchen at Vermont, a Los Feliz bistro nearing its 10th anniversary, is currently under the control of renegade Frenchman Laurent Quenioux, a chef as hard to pin down as the first chanterelles in spring. And his cassoulet is the real thing: creamy tarbais beans walloped with garlic, and garnished with first-quality house-made duck confit, braised pork belly and even garlickier Toulouse sausage, the perfect dish to combat January chill. By spring, you may even be hungry again. 1714 N. Vermont Ave., Los Feliz, (323) 661-6163 or www.vermontrestaurantonline.
The Ripper
Northern New Jersey may have nearly as many styles of hot dog as it does congressional districts: Italian hot dogs, Texas wieners, chili dogs, dirty-water dogs, and styles whose fame doesn’t extend much past their township. First among these is the Ripper, a sturdy frankfurter plunged into boiling oil until the casing explodes, the skin blackens and the suddenly crunchy sausage becomes riddled with deep crevasses along its length. Fab’s is practically a hot dog museum, a reputable destination for Chicago dogs, L.A. street dogs, New Mexico dogs with roasted green chiles and a kind of slaw-laden dog rare outside northern West Virginia, but I suspect half of its customers may be unaware that the stand even serves anything but the Ripper, all heat and crunch, the swim through the hot oil boiling down and reducing the garlicky juices until they reach the syrupy intensity of a doggy demiglace. 6747 Tampa Ave., Reseda, (818) 344-4336 or www.fabhotdog.com.
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