sarah g.'s Profile

Let me say this first: I LOVE FRIED CHICKEN.

From whatever cuisine, chicken that is battered, seasoned, or totally naked before going for a fatty dip in a fryer is one of my favorite foods.

Actually, that's not even the whole truth. The truth is, I don't even like the chicken part. I just peel off the crispy, crunchy, salty, spicy SKIN and eat that. On that is what I base my opinions of KFC - Korean Fried Chicken.

Korean fried chicken is not new to me. I've been eating that as "tong dahk" and "yangyeum tong dahk" and other "nal gee" for many years (even before I got to LA) and have always loved dipping the already salty skin in more salt, "refreshing" my mouth with the pickled radish, and of course, washing all that filthy grease down with soju.

However, a restaurant dedicated to only Korean Fried Chicken is new to me, and in the spirit of what my Daddy always tells me "if you do one thing, do it WELL," i assumed that KyoChon would be AWESOME.

It was just okay, and to be quite honest, it would have been slightly better than okay if it weren't so expensive for what it is (FRIED CHICKEN, people), and how long it took. The plain was decently crisp, but it was the spicy that was a bit disappointing. In Korean food, spicy is supposed to be five alarm spicy. It was a candle flame at best.

If I had deeper pockets (or maybe a Sugar Daddy!), I would definitely go to the St Regis for brunch on the weekends more often. The food is the usual brunch/lunch buffet, but there are two things that make this stand out: 1) the view/setting, and 2) the Bloody Mary bar.

There you go. That's all you need to know -- Bloody Mary by the beach.

Really though, my family had brunch here, and the fact that EVERYONE was happy, even my Dad who has positive things to say about pretty much nothing, is a HUGE testament to the St Regis's buffet. There is something for everyone, and when I say something for everyone, I mean everything from a cheese selection to chilled seafood display to grilling on the patio outside. Most of the food is set up inside, so to be close to the food, you may want to sit inside, but the tables out on the patio/balcony is really the best seating in the house.

But like I said, all that really matters is the Bloody Mary bar :)

Kabuki Sushi is not good. If I had it in me right now, I might go so far as to say that Kabuki Sushi is quite possibly the worst sushi I've had in the last five years, but I won't. Let's face it, I've surrendered to late-night, lazy midweek supermarket sushi many times in those last five years.

When we walked into Kabuki Sushi, I knew it wasn't going to be the most authentic Japanese sushi experience. It was loud, crowded with people ranging from "dates" to gaggles of giggling girls to families of six with small children. It was these families, I think, that sort of did it for me. Kids screaming, laughing and running around in the aisles is totally not what I picture in a Japanese restaurant. In fact, my first impression as we walked in the front door was that we had just stepped into a cheesy, colorfully animated Disney Epcot interpretation of a Japanese food. There were also quite a number of people waiting on the sidewalk outside the restaurant for a table as well as sardined onto the few chairs inside in front of the hostess. If Kabuki had set up crowd control with sawhorses and white plastic chain links, the parallel would have been scary perfect.

Three women were standing behind the front hostess stand discussing the finer points of strategic customer seating in...Korean. When we stepped up, I held up two fingers in universal restaurant sign language. She looked down at the maps and lists, then led us to the sushi bar.

We opened the menu. I right about Kabuki being something like Disneyland. Like the theme park that has something for everyone, so too is Kabuki your one-stop Japanese food fun for-the-whole-family extravaganza. Appetizers include everything from dynamite to fried calamari to tempura to yakitori. They also had something called BBQ Beef Ribs, described as their special "oriental style" ribs, but let's just call it what I think they really are: galbee.

The menu has salads, typical dinner offerings like teriyaki everything, tonkatsu, combinations of these with sushi or tempura, items cooked on a hibachi grill, udon noodles, soup, and a half-dozen "gourmet dishes" - basically Japanese fusion things like miso-marinated cod. Mom and I weren't all that interested in any of the above except a tofu salad to start our dinner. Tofu salads are fairly standard now, and Kabuki's was nothing special. Mixed baby greens dressed with sesame dressing was a light, fresh way to start.

The Disney effect is in full-force on the menu not because of what is offered, but how it's offered - full chaotic color with pictures, advertising everywhere the fact that sushi is half price. I wasn't sure how good I felt about sushi being offered at half-price. Of course, it's all marketing and psychology, I know, but I really don't know that the psychology of "half" works for raw fish.

Maguro was a pale pink, rather than the bright ruby red I'm used to. Half-price, right? Across the the rice, the tuna was starting to separate at the natural muscle striations, and when I ate it, was a bit tougher and chewier than normal. I could feel the silvery fibers in my teeth that hold the flesh together, which I wanted to pull out of my mouth and place back on the plate. We encountered a similar fibrous texture with hirame, hamachi, and sake. The tekka maki was better, since the tuna was cut into smaller, narrower slices, and the pallid color was hidden between rice and nori. Albacore sushi was softest and least fibrous of everything, but it still doesn't mean it was good.

The sushi at Kabuki was not good, but that's not to say that there was anything disastrous. Obviously, offering sushi at half-price means that the business has to compromise a little bit of fish quality. And of course, since they do advertise half-price, they are turning out quite a volume, which means that chefs have to ration the time and care they put into each order. The preparations are sometimes a little disheveled, sometimes totally sloppy, but it's still edible. Kabuki caters to a crowd of sushi eaters who want to be in a loud, lively atmosphere, people who want to be able to bring their families, people who want to be able to enjoy the lightness of sushi without the lightness of wallet. If I wanted to eat sushi every day for the sake of eating light, healthy raw fish and rice, I would put Kabuki on my rotation. But sushi is a different type of experience for me. Not better. Not worse. Just different.

Angotei is like Sawtelle's Hide Sushi of Orange County - nothing fancy on the outside, a tiny space inside, not much in the way of decor, and a tiny space on the inside. Oh wait, did I already say that? Yes, Angotei is almost smaller than a large home dining room, which, along with the fact that it doesn't take reservations for any of the oh, about 5 tables in the place, is really just about the only thing that is bad about it.

I usually prefer very basic sushi and sashimi - raw fish without unnecessary accessories like sauces or garnishes. However, we tried the tuna tataki on the raving recommendations of others. It wasn't bad, as the fish was fresh, but there was just a tiny bit "too much going on" with the sauce and all the little adornments thrown on top (for me). The few pieces of nigiri we had were good.

Angotei also has small, hot plates. If it weren't for the fact that sushi is in my top three cuisines of all time, I could have gone to Angotei and just eaten the sauteed mushrooms. Hell, you could have kept the mushrooms and just brought me a spoon and bowl of the sauce that was rendered from their cooking.

The restaurant is cheap because it IS sushi after all, but in comparison to others, Angotei has great value.

Like Mitsuwa for supermarket sushi, Nijiya as a Japanese market is better than your neighborhood Ralphs or Pavilions, but let's be real here. We're talking about sushi in little plastic containers that was made four and a half hours ago. The only reason ANYONE should eat sushi from a supermarket is for sheer convenience.

So that being said, Nijiya may have a broader selection of sushi types, it might appear fresher and cleaner, and it might feel more authentic because the staff behind the counter is Asian, but GETTING into the market is about as convenient as oh, you know, NOTHING. That corner of Sawtelle and Olympic has roadrageous traffic and the parking little-not-lot has all of about 6 spaces for cars that don't exist in that size in the US.

As far as supermarket sushi goes, Japanese markets will always win out over any of the American markets. Within the Japanese tier, Mitsuwa gets first place for its wide selection of types of sushi and sashimi, fish that tastes fresh, and rice that is not too sweet or over-vinegared.

The only gripe about Mitsuwa is its most ridiculous parking situation this side of the Hacienda Heights Costco on a Sunday afternoon - but that's symptomatic of ALL Asian markets.

I've gone to Pane e Vino in Brea more times than is necessary (once would be enough). Even if the rest of my family didn't have to suffer Italian mediocrity for every Daddy-related dining-out occasion simply because my Daddy loves ONE dish there (linguine alla vongole), there isn't much selection for dining in Brea, so by comparison to its immediate surroundings, Pane e Vino isn't all that bad anyway.

The best seating in the restaurant is on the small patio, semi-covered with climbing plants and Christmas lights. Sitting in a charming setting like that, you might be more forgiving of the food, which has an underlying theme of "dry."

When my sister bit into the bread on the table, she looked at me with  a crinkled nose across the table and mouthed "Is it stale?" The crust wasn't thick and chewy, the crumb was dry. If the bread wasn't stale, then it was just bad.

We normally don't do starters, but this time, we ordered the carpaccio. The dish wasn't bad, but overdressed arugula and an overzealous drizzle of garlic cream made it hard to taste the meat. I like to taste the meat, you know.

For whatever reason, all of the entrees were overcooked. This resulted in drydrydry flat iron steak, ribeye steak, chicken paillard, and italian sausage. Pasta was also overcooked. My fusilli pasta reminded me a little too much of a just-add-water casserole in a box from the grocery store - pasta was too soft, eggplant falling apart to the point of unidentifiable, and there was too much cheese. I ate less than a third of it.

Of course, my Daddy's linguine alla vongole was, for him, perfect. An earthenware dish covered with a thin layer of bread dough comes to the table in a perfect, browned dome. The server cuts around the edge, releases the steam from inside, and peels back the "crust." It's definitely impressive looking, and is probably the only dish on the table that actually tasted good - tiny clams in their shells, al dente pasta (why wasn't mine?!), and an opaque broth so fragrant with garlic I think I still smell like it today.

If I were just out with friends, I doubt I would go to Pane e Vino, but I do know we will be back. Father's Day comes every year, you know.

"A little piece of Heaven," as the sign on the corner touts? Or "Hell no, I'd never go back?"

When it comes to PJ's Abbey, I am stuck in Purgatory.

On the one hand, I love the IDEA of PJ's Abbey -- a casual, comfortable restaurant built out of a converted abbey with a charming patio perfect for an early summer brunch or lunch. The dining room is spacious with high ceilings, bright inside, with a small (full!) bar toward the back, and a room further back that looks like it would be good for a small private event. The restaurant is located just off the main drag leading to the Circle, a block into the darling residential area that surrounds the "downtown" Orange.

On the other hand, I don't love the EXECUTION at PJ's Abbey, at least what I experienced for the first time there yesterday (a Saturday afternoon).

We ordered our brunch/lunch, and luckily, we were so focused on the conversation that we didn't realize how much time had passed before the server came by and apologized for "losing" our ticket. Perhaps it was the sincerity of his apology and the earnestness in his voice, or maybe I was just enjoying the sunshine on the patio that much, but it didn't bother me. The server said he put it the again and the food would be up as soon as it was ready.

When our Kobe Burger and Mediterranean-ish omelet arrived at the table, I had lost some of my appetite, stomach bloated with all the refills of Diet Coke that were an apologetic distraction. Perhaps it was for the better because I didn't want to eat my omelet that had fresh tomatoes on it after I had asked for sun-dried (a little paranoid about tomatoes right now, that's all). Our server was falling over himself apologizing, offered to re-do the order, but I didn't need the kitchen to waste their energy on something I was too full (of soda) to eat. I simply asked for a side of sun-dried tomatoes (though the point was never that i wanted sun-dried tomatoes, it was that I did NOT want fresh tomatoes), and hot sauce. The potatoes on the plate looked too dark and that paradoxical combination of dry and greasy.

The burger had bacon on it, which was odd because the server had specifically called out bacon as a topping option, and we had declined. The fries on the Burger plate got most of my attention, but other than flakes of salt, the food was a little bit disappointing.

There were flaws all along the way at PJ's Abbey - lost ticket, mistakes on both orders, and somewhat disappointing quality of the food regardless. The question is, when do you condemn for things that are "supposed" to be this way and were not, and when do you simply forgive because you had a good experience just being there anyway?

Korean barbecue is not haute cuisine and restaurants are normally undecorated, holes in the wall with suspicious sanitation standards. They're loud and chaotic -- waitresses and patrons shouting across the dining room and exhaust hoods noisily sucking air about as well as a smoker who's been blazing through a pack a day for 40 years. And that hanging haze will eventually infuse every article of clothing with that undeniable galbi stench. Korean food is casual, rustic, unrefined - your hands get dirty and your hair reeks of smoke afterwards.

But Sagan renounces that humble Korean heritage in every possible way - soft, neutral decor, dark wood furniture, and subtle asian accents like water, stone, and lacquered wood sculpture. It's not serene by any means, but there is no chaotic din from an overexposed kitchen overflowing into the dining room. Servers don't shout, but communicate with each other through earpieces and mini walkie talkies. Diners get their attention with a button at each table that mysteriously alerts the staff that there is a request. It's quite matrix-ish, but without the black leather and sunglasses.

I was skeptical about Sagan, though because very unscientific statistics show that Korean restaurants can have good food or a good ambience, not both, and very rarely are they something in the middle, but I was pleasantly surprised that Sagan could deliver on both, and somewhat shocked that I would ever find it in OC.

Some of the bahn chan were traditional, some a little unfamiliar to me, but all of them together balanced spicy, salty, sweet, crisp and soft. Galbi and bulgogi were properly marinated, and I won't fault Sagan for it being a bit too sweet for my taste. I have accepted that as a general taste trend in korean barbecue.

The galbi meat was already cut off the ribs to make for a less neanderthal-like experience, but I do miss the chewy periosteum and connective fibers of the bones. Bulgogi was good as well, but the star of the table was the ee-myun-soo gui (broiled mackerel). Unless the fish itself is bad, Ican't really imagine a restaurant making this badly. It's just crispy fish and salt.

As if pounds of beef and an entire fish wasn't enough, we always finish the meal with naeng-myun (buckwheat noodles in cold broth) and mahn-doo gook (dumpling soup) which were, apparently, quite good because we finished almost all of it.

Still, though, I am not sure I am completely comfortable with this eliza-doolittle-ization of korean cuisine. Sagan is a Korean restaurant, but it also has authentic japanese foods and korean-japanese foods on the menu. It's in what looks like a remodeled Applebee's and seems a little out of place there on a strip of Beach Blvd dotted with the tgi fridays and chili's that cater to the tourist family crowds of knott's berry farm. there are grills on each table with both gas and charcoal. it's quiet, upscale, almost sophisitcated, but when it's all said and done, it's just korean food.

Kind of like brown is the new black or shorts are the new capris, Surah has become the new Ong Go Jib, Korean restaurant in Rowland Heights, for when our entire family gets together.

Like most everything in OC, Surah is part of a mega plaza, this one primarily catering to Korean customers. Despite its mini-mall association on the outside, though, Surah's interior has its own, individual feel. The pseudo waiting space is created in the front by a glass encased water and stone garden. The dining area is large room with overhead fluorescent lighting, but has well-placed plants and structures to create smaller sections that feel less chinese-restaurant-banquet-hall like.

There's a sushi bar tucked away in the front corner, but it doesn't appear that many people come to Surah for anything but the barbecue. There are probably about 30 tables, able to seat anywhere from 2 to 8 people, and each table is equipped with something I'd never seen before -- sprinklers mounted at each table for fire safety! That makes me feel better. I think.

The menu looks like any other Korean restaurant's, but what distinguishes Surah from the rest are the bahn-chan. Kimchees are good: a standard kimchee made with napa cabbage, as well as one made with baby cabbage.

Greens and julienned scallion "salad" is tossed with a homemade soy sauce, garlic and ggoh-choo-ga-roo (red pepper flakes) vinaigrette. i have to laugh, calling it a "vinaigrette," which sounds as if there were a recipe, fancy and non-korean, but that's basically what it is. Though i see it everywhere, i still think it's funny that good ol' picnic style potato salad is bahn-chan.

Thankfully, galbee and bulgogi marinades at Surah do not fall victim to the usual over-sugaring of other Korean restaurants. They also serve the meats with dduk bo-ssam, paper thin slices of dduk used to make tiny barbecued meat and rice wraps.

At the end when all the meat has been snatched off the grill, the servers make jook right there at the table. They add rice, broth, and eggs, stir it all together, and let it cook down to a thick porridge. I am not a fan of jook to begin with, but everyone else in my family loves it. They even wrap up whatever of it is leftover and take it home (leftover leftovers?)

Some other good things about Surah: sushi bar (for the rebel child who goes to a Korean BBQ restaurant and wants to eat raw fish), genghis shabu shabu, and really really good hae-mool pah jun (i am convinced that they have somehow figured out how to DEEP FRY the batter).