Bites and Bolts

Last Tuesday, Abby of Pleasure Palate invited out a slew of food bloggers to a complimentary dinner courtesy of One Sunset. My first inclination was to think of the venue as an intimate late night restaurant situated on the Sunset Strip.

Once inside the large wooden double doors, we converged in the Champagne Lounge to the right of the alcove and host station. 

Here we were served a sparkling wine concoction to kick off the evening: LUSHious Raspberry cocktails brimming with Gloria Ferrer sparkling wine, a touch of Leblon, and a ripe red raspberry sheen; seeds the results of instrumental muddling gathered at the bottom. It was a refreshingly sweet way to start off the evening, and to be sure, everyone looks more sophisticated sporting a rosy filled champagne flute.

The interior space is split into four spaces each flowing harmoniously into each other seamlessly. Our group was seated in a more secluded upper dining lounge, each spacious booth set off with cushy bench seating.

As servers poured Voss sparkling water, chef Jason Ryczek soon appeared bearing the first dish of the evening, a so-called “Breakfast on a Plate”.

This dish was essentially a miniature pancake about the size of a real silver dollar, set off artistically with a poof of bacon foam, crème fraîche, apple caviar, and the tiniest of salty bacon bits. I would’ve easily been amused with a short stack of the tiny discs piled high. Just one pancake was such a tease.

To help wash down our breakfasts, a round of One’s “The Master Cleanse” cocktails were passed around, a mix of Belvedere vodka, fresh lemon juice, maple syrup, and cayenne pepper. A bemusing name for a rather unappetizing drink–after a few sips the pleasantly spicy cayenne pepper taste dominated the refreshing citrus aspects of the fresh juice.

Next up we were served Adult Candy, a blue cheese-stuffed date bacon-wrapped and skewered, dished atop a bed of arugula scattered with pine nuts  and dried cranberries. 

The bacon’s flavor was blinded by the predominant shocking sweetness of the date. Even the distinct taste of blue cheese was invisible inside the stickiness of its outer counterpart. I found the arugula to lend a much-needed balance to the dish although their effect was drowned in too much oil.

Continuing on, the Spicy Tuna Tartare made its appearance, a proper scoop of tuna chunks smothered with loathsome spiciness and a sprinkling of red tobiko and black sesame seeds. Each fish mass perched upon a piece of greasy eggplant tempura; a change from the usual sushi rice but I can’t say for the better.  

Heading into lighter fare, the Burrata and Strawberries were a sweet contrast from the salty tartare. Softly toasted cinnamon bruschetta smeared with soft cheese made a base for deliciously soft diced strawberries drizzled with balsamic and sprinkled with basil slivers and pistachio shrapnel. The green sprouts shooting out of the cheese, although fresh and visually appealing, lent a noticeably bitter note to the otherwise subtly sweet dish.

What’s a little late night drinking without some good old meat and carbs to balance things out?

The BBQ pork sliders were a welcome sight–tender pork shreds moist with sweet marinade sandwiched between a carefully sliced King’s Hawaiian style bun. Tucked into each creation was an incognito piece of rich smoked cheddar and a few crispy shallots.

The hand tossed onion rings with accompanying cream horseradish sauce were crisp and balanced alone and paired wonderfully with the sliders.

Continuing with the meat trend, we selected a skewer of what was described as Korean Chicken Satay. Marinated with tamarind and ginger, the chicken had a tangy spice, but was a bit dry with notes of char. The  side of “kimchi” coleslaw was accented with a few shiny crunchy spiced cashews.

Our last cocktail of the evening, the Tropical Sidecar, arrived. Viscous remnants of pineapple chunks and blueberry flesh floated near the surface on a bed of Hennessy touched by Cointreau. This was a very fruit forward cocktail, the high acidity of the citrus masking all but the deepest of cognac flavors.

We launched promptly into the Salade Niςoise plate. Pistachio crusted albacore lay in domino effect nearby an artistic smear of caper aioli with the actual anchovy free salad playing a supporting role in the background. There was talk of a boiled quail egg hidden amongst the foliage, but alas it was scooped up by the deft Ryan of Tangmeister.com.

If I had make a presumptive list of shareable dishes one would see at a lounge,  Turkey Meatballs would never have crossed my mind. They were moist veering towards mushy with grated parmesan, fresh basil, and a spattering of marinara atop. Crispy thin mini-toasts, presumably brushed with olive oil contrasted well with their platter-mates.

Just when I thought we really had just about “One of almost everything” from their menu, the chef whipped out the last whimsical dish: Roasted Clams on the Half Shell. Basically a tablespoon of clam chowder was spooned into the shell with little bits of diced tomatoes, chorizo, and crushed oyster crackers. These rested on a bed of baby arugula with a side of lemon wedge. We were instructed to shoot the shell back and then add the lemon juice to help cut through the richness of the broth. A distinctly different approach to eating chowder, although there was so little of it I can’t be sure quite what it tasted like.

With all the savory dishes out of the way, it was time to spend a little quality time nurturing cavities into fruition. The desserts were simple but comforting and easy to share–a sweet ending to a night of new introductions. “No Carbs” Tony C devoured the Meyer lemon Panna Cotta so quickly I had to get paparazzi on another table’s platter just to document it.

Certainly the most delicate of the three desserts I tried, the lavender oil drizzled panna cotta melted away equally as fast as the round ball of blackberry sorbet perched atop a flaky poppy seed crisp.

I was quite taken with the mini Velvet Rope Cupcakes.

Each exuberantly moist little nub was topped with a dreamy cream cheese frosting that tasted more of marshmallow fluff than the slightly stirred Philly bagel topping I’ve grown wary of. And yes, red sprinkles were in effect.

Lastly, we were treated to a Vegan Godiva Chocolate Gelato, a scoop of chocolate quite reminiscent of a frozen ganache in richness although noticeably filled with thousands of miniscule ice crystals strewn throughout. This was served up alongside a shot of Disaronno which some chose to shoot straight up while others dutifully bathed their scoops before sampling.

At night’s end, my conclusion was that One Sunset is a relaxing plush lounge that might appeal to those looking to share New American style plates and fruit-muddled cocktails. It appears there is some respite on The Strip to cozy up with a new friend or 7 and enjoy cocktails without shouting over music or bumping elbows.

Keizo’s recent post and the chilly evening weather put me in the mood for ramen. I’ve been to Kyushu quite a few times over the years mostly due to its close proximity to my valley abode. This was my first visit back in some time so I was ready to wipe the slate clean and looked forward to any improvements.

Luckily, I was able to go with a friend and sample a few different items. I ordered the specialty Kyushu ramen which is a tonkotsu based selection. While the presentation certainly was lovely, the broth was still rather bland and watered down. The chashu was pretty standard–several half inch slabs floating about and menma was firm with a solid bit of crunch to it. The fresh sprigs of spinach added a subtle texture and freshness to the bowl.

The shoyu ramen had a very delicate flavor, bordering on plainness. Again, the presentation was better than I remember with fresh toppings that were carefully placed.

Since the menu was updated sometime in late 2007, the ramen combo with gyoza is no longer available. However, there is a sole shoyu ramen and fried rice combo. Kyushu’s fried rice had been prepared with minimal oil in the past but this time it was marginally dry which may have impacted the flavor towards blandness. Just a whisper of more flavor would have been appreciated.

Lastly, we tried the saba appetizer, which can be prepared with sea salt or a miso dressing. We opted for the sea salt version. It was rather standard, not particularly soft and supple like Foo Foo Tei’s scrumptious offering. Still, it was a decent appetizer and good for Omega-3s, eh?

I’m interested to see if things progress with a new chef at the helm, because although a delicate change in the ramen was detectable, it wasn’t anything outrageously good. Plus, the service is just as slow and unobservant as it ever was, leaving us to fetch our bill after failed attempts to gain attention. For now, I wouldn’t go out of my way to eat here.

Picture this: Late Sunday morning, three food bloggers race to Monterey Park from their respective residences in anticipation of serious ramen grubbing. Navigating traffic, locating parking, and braving sluggish 30 year old elevators, they arrive at their glorious destination: the newly opened Daikokuya. It was closed. Doh!

Luckily, other than Sup Bookstore(sup, dude?), a little restaurant by the name of Shin-Sen-Gumi was open for business. It was unanimously agreed that we would gorge ourselves therein.

Seeing a bunch of hooligans with fistfuls of cameras, the host wisely chose to hide us from plain view at a semi-private curtained table. In the privacy of our own secluded area we took our sweet time ordering as we unleashed our inner food nerds documenting every inch of menu by DSLR and salivating profusely. 

First dish out was the tako wasabi, a delightful little splooge of octopus extremities thoroughly smothered by wasabi flavor and decorated with thin slices of green onions. The octopus was a bit too chopped and a bit too flavored to be thoroughly enjoyable.

A little green salad was ordered to help with fiber, mostly green leaf with a seriously refreshing light oil and acidic vinegar dressing.

After noshing on salad, we dug into the fleshy pink slabs of seared washu beef. Striped with fatty white lines each petite filet was delicately dipped in ponzu on its final chopstick constrained journey to the depths of our stomachs.  

More good stuff started pouring in shortly thereafter starting with pork wrapped asparagus. Highly recommended, the asparagus was crunchy and green wrapped with super juicy thinly sliced pork.

From one meat product to another, we dug into the slippery peach skewered sausages. Like little Japanese hot dogs, they paired perfectly with spicy brown mustard and ketchup.

The chicken breast skewers came next. The meat was fairly tender and moist, each inch long piece topped artfully with a tiny chunk of ume and julienned shiso. The chicken breast with wasabi was somewhat unremarkable in comparison.

The chicken cartilage yakitori was a slightly chewy option, lightly salted and just a tad crispy with the solid cartilage contrasting the tender meat.

Normally, I like my quail eggs raw, but I made an exception for the hard boiled trio wrapped in bacon. Nothing remarkable here, just some small eggs snuggled in thick salty bacon. Pictured behind the eggs, the chicken tail, a daily special, was like a smaller chewier version of the cartilage almost like cartilage nuggets.

Upon Keizo’s suggestion, we tried the meatballs, and then we tried some more. Partially charred chocolate outers gave way to soft moist meat inside. May I have another?

Another typical yakitori failure, the shishito defied my past experiences arriving in bright green color with an oily sheen. So this is what a properly cooked pepper tastes like! I never knew.

On our second round of yakitori, we agreed to try liver. I’ll eat liver, I’m just not a huge fan of the boiled rubbery bitter tasting slices that usually float about in my noodles. SSG’s liver was none of the sort! A few plump succulent pieces of very rare meat slid right off the stick and into my thereafter surprised mouth. I would have it again in a heartbeat.

I made a case for trying the hiyayakko being homemade and it was a refreshing palate cleanser with bonito flakes and green onion. Silky soft and delicious!

The pork wrapped enoki got our curiosity going, so we ordered it to find out how it was prepared. The mushrooms were cut into small bundles tucked inside a roll of juicy pork, which proved to be rather bland with an inside stringy fibrous texture.

Finishing up our mid-day meal was braised pork belly or buta no kakuni as I was so properly schooled by Keizo. This was my first time trying kakuni and it reminded me of pot roast in that it was somewhat tender(a little on the dry side) covered with an addictingly sweet sauce. I may have to try this at home, now that I found a recipe.

To be honest, I’ve been steering clear of yakitori and izakaya joints lately because too often I’m out $35-50 on a bunch of cute but mostly unsatisfying dishes. However, this lunch changed my mind. The restaurant was clean and bright and I didn’t leave smelling of charcoal! Plus, the service was prompt and on demand with convenient table buzzers. I would venture to say that I enjoyed it a great deal more than the crowded Gardena location and hope to return again to try their shabu-shabu.

And now, the chilling finale to my Santa Monica Seafood saga. Dun-dun-dun!

To a blogger, internet capabilities are as important as a working faucet/Brita filter/gin and tonic is to proper hydration. Imagine my surprise(rather, feigned surprise as I have Time Warner cable) when come Wednesday, the day of my promised continuation of SM Seafood coverage, I was a victim of an interwebz fail. Little did I know that it would progress into epic proportions as the downtime dragged on through Saturday night hogtying my writing ambition with it.

Here I was subjected to WiFi coffeehouses where I attempted to strangle my focus back from neighboring conversations about the lucky number 8 and it’s possible effects on karma and your life. Oh wait, that’s right now. For some crazy wild reason, I *think* I get more done outside of my house.

Monday night last week I kidnapped a cohort to Santa Monica to partake in more seafood ingestion. First, I tried the oysters. Mind you, I’m not an “oyster” person. I am not a master of the scrape and suck. However, I felt it pure blasphemy to be once again seated at an oyster bar as all the main dining tables were taken and NOT eat oysters. As I was poised to take a Fatal Frame shot of my meal, I realized that my battery was 100% drained. Thank God for friends with Nokia N95s. I quickly made a Malpeque oyster my latest esophageal victim. It was “the yum”.

My dining companion chose to partake in the New England Clam Chowder which was slopped up into a mug as mine earlier sans saucer, but with two bonus packs of oyster crackers. Score.

I was drooling over a mental picture of the salmon crudo all afternoon and ordered it up with glee. It arrived looking just as good as expected, topped with thinly sliced shallots and juicy shreds of ruby grapefruit. Yes, it’s raw. Mmmff. And it was so very soft and delicious, the tart citrus complementing the supple flesh in a way that could only end in mouth melting perfection.

My friend evidently couldn’t get enough of the salmon and went for the cooked salmon(totally not the correct name-where’s my togo menu?) which was excellently prepared with a touch of pink flesh full of juicy goodness permeating the center filet.

And of course, I ordered the cioppino. This was some damn good cioppino which I was hoping it would be after about a 45 minute wait for my dish. The stew base had some serious “BAM!” going on which I happily soaked up with my accompanying grilled ciabatta slice. A variety of seastuffs(clams, mussels, fish) and several huge shrimp were crammed into the shallow bowl, all cooked to a point of easy separation from their exoskeleton. I love cioppino, but I don’t love wearing it. Thank you SM Seafood for making a delicious cioppino that I can eat like a lady.

Oh yeah, the SM Seafood staff were seriously backed up and frazzled by the end of the night. I’m actually even more happy that we ended up being seated at the bar again, as our bartender/server Mike handled the roller coaster of a night like a champ. Not only was he responsible for all bartending duties for the rest of the restaurant, he was assisting at the oyster bar, tracking down my very tardy order, and still maintaining a surprising amount of composure come 9pm. Even though our meal took about an hour and a half, it was seriously worth it, although I wouldn’t mind if the next time I go takes considerable less to eat.

If I had any friends, I would have called them today to go to this: the grand (re)opening of Santa Monica Seafood. Being a socially awkward, fat and friendless foodiast(new word!), I went by myself to eat alongside other lonely food geeks.

Santa Monica Seafood Company has been in existence since 1939. That sounds nice to me being of the generation who likes things to be new and flashy yet also have an established history. Regardless of people’s decisions to come here today(personally, I would have stayed far away but food makes me do crazy things), all ages were solidly represented. And if the mature gentleman next to me was any indication, chances are a good amount of people already shopped at Santa Monica Seafood for fresh fish and were pleasantly surprised by how good the cioppino was in the cafe.

The inside would be spacious if there weren’t so many fish fiends swimming about, complete with a tiny wine and cheese selection, various spendy sauces, Valrhona chocolate bars, and gourmet stuffs. Screw all that, I was there for sea creatures. The horseshoe shaped seafood counter was chock full of them, everything from rock lobster to stingrays to narwhals. Okay, kidding about the narwhals, but there were plenty of colorful plump filets and shellfish.

Since I already submitted my non-refundable quarter to the LA meter maids, I decided to stick out the wait with a the ravenous grumpy line of pre-menstrual customers for a seat. And since today was opening day the managers were working, taking names in a somewhat orderly fashion. I was pleased to take a pedestal at the snowy marble oyster bar in an effort to discourage mad-dogging as a result of occupying a 2-seat table.

The mother-daughter duo to my right was quite pleasant, perhaps because I caught up with them post-meal(and post-wine for that matter). I had my heart set on some Scottish salmon, but was easily persuaded to try out the tuna melt by a fellow New Jerseyan. And I couldn’t pass up the New England clam chowder because I hear all that dairy is good for bone health. And fat cells.

The chowder was delivered in a large pristine mug, a good amount for a $3 cup. No crackers here, but the bar was adorned with glass bud vases full of tall crunchy breadsticks that made due when broken into 1 inch cylinders. For a chowder on opening day it was rather good–just about the right consistency and richness. The base was a little more bland than I prefer with a bit many chopped celery pieces and a bit too few clam pieces. Small diced potatoes and cilantro livened it up a bit, but I would have preferred some fresh cracked black pepper and of course, some bacon. Alas, there was none.

I spent the 30 minutes waiting for my lost tuna melt sandwich to drool over other patrons food and slapping my hand from trying to take pictures of other people’s food. Being a plain wallflower I found pleasure in lending my ear to my neighbor’s stories about visiting Italy for luggage design inspiration, servicing their Mercedes Benz, and the best places for oysters in San Francisco.

At last my meal arrived with a heartfelt apology and a wave of oohs and aahs from the oyster bar. I dug right in(after taking pictures, silly). My mouth met with an unfamiliar taste of fresh tuna. I enjoyed canned tuna velveeta melts in the toaster oven for years as a child, but this wasn’t anything like that. It was like the first time tasting crisp green beans that weren’t dreadfully boiled to a withering olive color.

Sandwiched between 2 crisp pieces of puckery sourdough was a delightful mix of white tuna speckled with mild spices. The upper deck was smothered in creamy melted cheese oozing ever so gently out of the sides like ivory lava. Below the tuna thinly sliced tomatoes bravely suffocated held firmly in place against the bread. Accompanying the sandwich was a pile of lovely green mesclun, gently flavored with tart lemon juice, a whisper of olive oil and a dusting of fleur de sel.

I decided to practice portion control although I could have stuffed my face with the whole thing and took the other half home. Besides, my 40-minute meter was running out for the second time and all my neighbors had been rotated out at least twice. Despite the crowded conditions and the extended wait times for food, I would definitely come here again. Like tonight. That cioppino looked mighty tasty.

 

Many internet lists exist for the sole purpose of selecting a restaurant environment in which romantic encounters will flourish. What’s really lacking out there is a definitive guide of great places to break up, end one’s engagement, or let ‘em down easy.

Just like a good upchuck, there’s seldom a time when the end of a relationship isn’t forewarned by at least a rather disconcerting gut feeling. The worst thing to do is break up at a place you enjoy frequenting, as every subsequent visit will be plagued by the Spirit of Ex’s Past. Difficulty can occur, like when struck by an unexpected bout of the flu, you find yourself spewing up your love’s finale during a pivoting scene at a late night matinee.

This is where Akasha comes in. Even on the shortest notice, reservations are a click away via website-enabled phone or if you show up at a balmy 9pm, there’s almost guaranteed an empty table for you and your *ahem* loved one.

And while intimate seating in dark lit corners with naught but the flicker of an air-caressed candle flame may be conducive to that fuzzy feeling of love(otherwise known as major suckage), there’s nothing like a rowdy dining hall to dump the coldest bucket of water on any residual embers of passion.

The main seating area is large with just enough elbow room to move about while still being acutely aware of your neighbors. The slender tables are set up with some sort of hard seated adult bouncy chairs although seating around the perimeter of the restaurant is split between these and plush benches. Do yourself a favor and rush for the latter-you shouldn’t have to inflict anymore unnecessary discomfort on yourself.

With the noise level at a moderate roar, severe lean-in is necessary to clearly hear the conversation and any ensuing hate words post-breakup will be largely muffled into the background. Really, it’s probably best to just sit back and nod your head up and down as if you’re intent on being the mature and reasonable one in the relationship.

There’s a physical threshold for pain which crossing beyond causes one to promptly pass out. In the cases of severe bodily harm or dismemberment, this works like a charm. Why this survival response doesn’t occur equally for the heart’s lancination, I’ll never know. Thankfully, alcohol can be substituted for wrist slitting, in which case Akasha has your back. With a healthy selection of everything from hibiscus margaritas to Stella or an insanely large selection of overpriced wines, you’ll be feeling better in no time.

Akasha prides itself on offering sustainable and organic food from local sources whenever possible. So even if your insides feel like chop liver you can take comfort in knowing that the salmon you’re about to ingest “is sourced from Clean Fish and other Marine Stewardship Council-certified fisheries”. That doesn’t guarantee that it will taste any better, but hey, you’re on your own now. It’s time to take care of you and lose those omega-3 love handles.

Akasha’s tiny menu is broken up into a handful of categories, including small plates, pizza, bowls, big plates, and sides. Since the detectable difference between small and big plates is somewhat vague, this is one restaurant where you can definitely get appetizers and still have room for your “big” dinner.

The grilled artichoke was a healthy start-a skimpy olive green bulb bearing transparent flesh that could hardly be prodded into the viscous paprika aioli. I ordered a daily special fig salad for dinner, although after seeing the massive plate on a neighboring table, I suddenly realized that the super-informative waiter had failed to mention it was merely an appetizer. A cannelinni bean hummus plate was ordered to hold the hunger at bay.

Glistening marinated olives sunk into a few tablespoons of pale bean puree accompanied by half a dozen crispified slices of floury pizza crust. The crust was adorned with shreds of caramelized onions and cilantro which imparted some flavor into the hummus dipping process.

For the main course, my glorious Sodom and Gomorrah fig salad arrived. The main attraction was a miniature mound of baby arugula with a thin slab of goat cheese alongside. One fig lay quartered and artfully decorated with a splash of balsamic vinegar. A smattering of pine nuts convened in the upper left corner. The arugula tasted as if Lot’s wife had been transformed into a heaping pillar of course sea salt just above it, smothering the usually spicy flavors.

My dining companion didn’t seem to be fairing much better with a fennel crusted Niman Ranch pork loin. The sleek rectangular platter skillfully displayed slabs of moist pink-speckled flesh resting on a bed of flavor-challenged organic bacon and white cheddar grits. A few thick slices of deep-fried green tomatoes paired perfectly with the Southern theme.

Some might not see a moderately priced restaurant as the ideal locale for a failed love investment. As I was finishing up my 200% profit glass of wine, this thought also crossed my mind. However, this one superficial detail, if anything, will cement the feeling of negativity towards the establishment of said disintegration, ensuring a clean break. Join me next time for “Discreet places to take your rebound”.

Akasha-Culver City, CA

Shortly after writing up the post about Fulfilled on Friday, I headed out to Little Tokyo for a taste of traditional imagawayaki. My destination? Mitsuru Cafe in the Japanese Village Plaza.

My initial visit was brought to a halt as I exited the first floor parking garage into the plaza. Behold! A brand new Sanrio store is born! As I was browsing near the front counter I asked an employee how long they had been open. It was their first day of business! This meant an entire Sanrio store virtually untouched by sticky little hands! There was much rejoicing.

This store is good-sized and sparkling new with a subsequently large collection of all the usual characters and a small selection of “For use in Japan only” products along the back wall. Employees were busy finishing up displays still in the mid-afternoon.

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Not like they need anymore free press since “Carmen Electra, Tori Spelling, jewelry designer Lia Sophia, Rick Fox, and others have invited Fulfilled to cater their special event”, but it appears that Fulfilled will finally open in Beverly Hills sometime in early September. Just in time for my birthday (in case you need an idea).

Fulfilled is a Japanese pastry shop that’ll be serving up imagawayaki. Ima-what? From what I’ve read, it’s like a chewy pancake type batter filled with sweet red bean paste. While Fulfilled will be serving up the traditional “an” filled imagawayaki, they’ll also be mixing it up LA-style(read: fusion) with sweet and savoury options. Prosciutto-filled pastries, anyone? 

I wonder if Fulfilled will take requests for their special monthly flavors. PB&J sounds awesome. Or maybe a fluffernutter imagawayaki. Say that three times fast.

With the location on S. Santa Monica Blvd, I’m reading this store as a big marketing ploy to rake in the dough. Typical LA concept-take a traditional treat, add some interesting ingredients, hire a proven interior designer, and sell it to rich people. Works every time.

Aside from the small cramped quarters inside this dark secluded restaurant, it’s hard to believe it’s located in an unglamourous strip mall adjacent to the bustling traffic of Hawthorne Blvd.

I was introduced to Ikko by some Japanese friends from the area who were taking an equally calculated risk eating here for the first time. Reservations are not required, but they’re certainly helpful as the staff can combine tables for larger groups.

Perhaps Ikko can best be described as a modern izakaya and sushi bar. I wouldn’t go so far as to call it fusion as plenty of menu items don’t typically appeal to the western palate such as marinated octopus suckers or dried salted fish bone appetizers. This is made even more evident by the high prevalence of Japanese clientele.

The regular menu is supplemented by a daily specials attachment, sometimes as thick as 3 or 4 additional pages. While the static menu items are excellent, the truly intriguing dishes are found on the simple printed addition. At the same time, some of these are unfortunately sold out even early in the evening.

Each menu item is presented as a dainty work of art making up a comestible masterpiece.

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Over the last year, Kyushu has gone through some interior design changes incorporating wooden booths so it looks like a Japanese restaurant now. However, sitting on little circular pads on wide gapped wooden park benches isn’t too comfy. Probably the main reason I visit this location is because it’s so close to where I live. When it’s rush hour through the Sepulveda pass and I’m craving a giant bowl of steaming hot noodles, it’s off to Kyushu. However, I’m left shivering with my coat on during the meal due to the single restaurant door swinging open sending gusts of wind to all the customers seated inside.

The ramen is average. They have the standard shoyu and miso broths. The almost clear shoyu broth lacks flavor and body. The noodles are standard fare, not fluffy, but just along for the ride, being sucked up inside you to fill up your hunger.

My favorite broth is the “special flavored” one found on the second page in only a handful of ramen including the Chanpon ramen and their house special Kyushu ramen. The “special flavor” is really a tonkotsu base. It’s cloudy and fulfilling, although a little watered down resulting in a little less richness than expected.

Gyoza or tofu appetizers are similar to what you’d make at home out of a store package. As a run-of-the-mill valley ramen shop it doesn’t disappoint with long hours and a good selection of dishes.