LA Weekly

Agra. Balti, in theory at least, is a kind of Kashmiri curry with roots in the Islamic cuisine of northern Pakistan, cooked and served in handled metal pots that resemble miniature woks. In practice, the word balti has come to mean almost any fiercely hot curry served to the overwhelmingly English clientele of the baltihouses of Birmingham — food tailored, as a friend says, to the alcohol-deadened palates of drunken football hooligans. Like a Tommyburger, a balti worthy of the name can still be tasted when one is in the clutches of the next morning’s hangover. Agra, an Indian restaurant in Silver Lake, certainly serves cuisine more subtle than that, but there is a considerable list of baltis on the menu, and they are overwhelmingly, punishingly hot, with all the refinement of last week’s 50 Cent remix played at earth-thumping volume from the back of a Scion. “Do you want that American hot or English hot?” sneers the waiter. “I will be warning you: American hot is a little milder than what the English are calling medium.” 4325 Sunset Blvd., Silver Lake, (323) 665-7818. Open daily for lunch and dinner 11 a.m.–11 p.m. No alcohol. Takeout. Parking lot. AE, DC, MC, V. JG $

AJ’s Fish & Chips. If you think Ye Olde King’s Head Pub is ye olde past its prime, have a craving for fish ’n’ chips and some place new, then venture into the arcade across from Vroman’s in Pasadena, the arched one from the 1920s that houses various art galleries, the Yucatecan restaurant El Portal and a dusty bookstore that seems to specialize in unread old sets of Kipling, you will find AJ’s Fish & Chips in the corner of the promenade that shrinks the farthest from the sun. AJ’s cook and waitresses are Thai, and the chips, French fries, are just dreadful, formerly frozen shoestrings that could use a little more time in the oil. The tartar sauce seems made by somebody who’s never tasted tartar sauce. The strongest drink on the menu is black Thai iced tea. There may not be a dartboard within miles. But the fish itself, northern cod breaded and fried to a golden crunch you may associate more with Southeast Asia than with the Sceptered Isle, is nothing short of superb. And at AJ’s you can also get a plate of ground chicken sautéed with green chiles and Thai basil that blows the roof off any steak-and-kidney pie you’d care to name. If that’s what you have in mind. 696 E. Colorado Blvd., No. 11, Pasadena, (626) 795-3793. Mon.–Sat. 11 a.m.–7 p.m. No alcohol. Takeout. Validated parking. AE, MC, V. JG $

Al and Bea’s. They are a stolid bunch, Los Angeles burrito lovers, neatly queued at burrito shrines at noon, pulling homemade burritos out of lunch buckets, occasionally attending to late-night cravings as faithfully as worshipers attending midnight Mass. And Al & Bea’s is one of the greatest of the Eastside’s classic burrito palaces, a low, ancient, heavily fortified kitchen, but the plainness of the food at Al & Bea’s may come as kind of a shock. Your choices are basically limited to red chile or green, meat or no meat, and whether to pay the extra 15 cents for cheese. When you order, the guy behind the register flips your ticket out of his pad like a cardsharp showing you the four of clubs. You pull your napkin from a roll. Then you wait, and eavesdrop on the line. In addition to burritos, there are old-fashioned fried tacos with guacamole, which are delicious, and hot, oily taquitos, which are even better. Hamburgers are available, although in practice they seem mostly to be eaten by patrons under the age of 10, as well as an only-in-East-L.A. classic known as the Four-Finger Dog, which is a couple of hot dogs dressed like a burger and served on a hamburger bun. The fried jalapeños, stuffed with something very like the shiny, processed cheese you find topping nachos in movie theaters and at Dodger Stadium, are more compelling than they have any right to be. 2025 E. First St., East Los Angeles, (323) 267-8810. Open Mon.–Fri. 9 a.m.–8 p.m., Sat. 10 a.m.–8 p.m. No alcohol. Takeout. Street parking. Cash only. Lunch for two, food only, $4–$8. JG ¢

Beard Papa Sweets Café. You have undoubtedly had other cream puffs in your day — damp, irregular spheroids of pastry split and filled with shelf-stabilized whipped cream — but the Beard Papa model is a different object altogether: crunchy where the standard cream puff tends to be elastic, round where the others are squat, injected to order with amplified doughnut custard flecked with tiny seeds, and dusted with powdered sugar. There is a distinct aftertaste of browned pie crust in a Papa puff where you usually encounter a vague, sweet smack. But as with a proper bagel, there is a tempered chaw under its thin, friable skin, and a subtly rich jolt of egginess that seems to rush straight to the pleasure center of the brain. Papa puffs are undoubtedly delivery systems for astronomical quantities of saturated fat, but the only thing it is possible to do after inhaling one is to immediately start in on another, until the box is empty, your stomach is full, and your sugar crash can be felt clear to the other side of the Tehachapis. If Papa puffs were any more addictive, they would be illegal in 38 states, the bearded, pipe-smoking mascot would be as suggestive as the Zig-Zag man, and puff-dumping codicils would be the subject of G7 trade negotiation. 6801 Hollywood Blvd., No. 153, Hollywood, (323) 462-6100. Mon.–Sat. 10 a.m.–10 p.m., Sun. 10 a.m.–8 p.m. No alcohol. Takeout. Mall parking. MC, V. JG ¢

Bistro K. To put it plainly, Bistro K is a restaurant out of a daydream, with a kitchen that may rank among the few dozen best in town, run by gifted and accomplished French chef Laurent Quenioux with a bring-your-own-wine policy and no corkage charge; a place where a fine, intimate dinner costs rather less than a quick meal of cheeseburgers and drinks at Houston’s. The menu is missing bistro clichés like steak frites or roast chicken, but is well stocked with the game and innards elsewhere unavailable in Los Angeles, oddities like the braised snips of veal tendon garnishing the medallions of rare venison, and such seasonally appropriate things as oeufs en meurette, a wintry harvest dish of eggs poached in a red-wine reduction with meaty slivers of bacon. Plus, there will be ant eggs in spring! A warm salad of duck gizzards sautéed with cèpes, chanterelle mushrooms and hot chiles, one of the most satisfying appetizers I have ever eaten in Los Angeles, costs only $7; a bowl of perfect mussels steamed with lime and curried coconut milk less than $8; an impeccable marquise au chocolat less than $6. The cassoulet of duck hearts, tender nuggets of meat braised with turnips and slippery bits of poached duck’s tongue, served in a cardamom-scented mushroom sauce on a sort of footed cake plate, is worthy of a multistarred Michelin laureate. 1000 S. Fremont Ave., South Pasadena, (626) 799-5052, www.lqmanagementservices.com. Wed.–Sat. 5:30–9 p.m. Free corkage. Lot parking. AE, MC, V. Dinner for two, food only, $60-$80. JG $$