Blame Canada...

Just wanna throw this out there:

I hate Caillou.  I hate Caillou's family.  I hate Gilbert, Caillou's stupid cat.  My blood starts to boil 2 beats into the theme song.  It's not because he's Canadian.  His voice makes me cringe and I want to just punch him on his giant, round, bald head (He's 4, by the way.  Why doesn't he have any hair, goddammit?!)  It's because he's whiny, and he asks stupid questions. I don't care that he's teaching kids valuable lessons.

I'm paying a debt to the Universe for all the bad shit I did in high school, because my 3 year old absolutely LOVES Caillou.  She binges on Caillou marathons on Netflix almost daily.  She can sing the song verbatim.

I clearly owe my parents and the Universe an apology and a fruit basket.


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Cronut Crawl 2013

Mmmmm... Cronuts...  The latest, greatest and tastiest deep fried treat to clog your arteries since the Krispy Kreme Fried Chicken Sandwich!!

OK.  I'm a lemming. I admit it. I wanna sit at the cool kid's table in the cafeteria, and be the guy who's done all the hip and cool stuff that there is to do. So what? Well, unless you live in a cave, or in some rural part of the Midwest (same difference), then you know that all the cool kids are eating CRONUTS.  The Cronut craze started in New York, and since its inception, droves of would-be hybrid pastry lovers have made pilgrimage to a tiny bakery in SoHo, where they line up at dawn in the hopes of snagging the coveted cream-filled and glazed wonder that is half croissant, half donut, and all fried.  Who doesn't want to get on that train?!

Since I don't have the luxury of trying the NYC Original, (and moreso, since I lack the insanity factor to be okay with standing in line for 3+ hrs in the hopes of trying the OG Cronut,) I'm left to spend a day of my hiatus on a Knockoff Cronut Crawl in Los Angeles. 

Except for the fact that cronuts are about $5 a pop, which affords me 2 stops, I'm raring to go.  Really, Christ?  2 whole stops? Let's be honest here.  L.A. isn't a small town, and although I consider myself a master at navigating my way around this city, gas is still hovering around $4 a gallon, and the cronut peddlers are scattered throughout L.A. and its environs. Also, it's still "blazing hot" summer (80 degrees is hot, alright?), and after about an hour of voluntarily driving around town...  Let's just say that a 2-stop Cronut Crawl is just about the longest I can go before my road rage demons start to come out. My two stops were DK's Donuts in Santa Monica and Capicola's Gourmet Sandwiches in Torrance. 

Before I start, let me just say that I'm a bit of a baked goods purist.  I don't mean that in a snotty way. I don't like frosting. I prefer baked over fried. Have I lost anyone yet? You know when you go to the donut store, and they have that tray of lonely naked cake donuts on the bottom shelf, in the far right hand corner?  Those are for me. I could eat those all day. I also hate cream and jelly filling.  It grosses me out.  Especially when you take a bite of a filled donut, and the filling glops out the other side, and onto your lap as you try to make an illegal left hand turn into the parking garage... I digress. Despite my hatred for what most of the world believes is the Baby Jesus spread on a pastry, I needed to try me a Cronut. Just in case I was missing something.  I mean, 400 people standing in line before sun-up can't be all wrong... right?  

First stop: DK's Donuts.  The pantheon of the 24-hour donut/lotto/boba/Bahn-mi/cigarette shop.  Their entire case reminds me of Christmas morning. You don't know where to start.  DK's offers at least a dozen different types of what they're calling the "Double Decker O-Nut."  The majority of donut shops in L.A. are run by Asians - usually Cambodians (that's not racist, it's a fact) - some of DK's offerings definitely skew Asian. In addition to traditional flavors like Oreo, Bacon Maple, Nutella and Eclair O-Nuts, DK's also has Taro cream, Thai Tea cream, Green Tea cream and Guava cream. Being the purist, I opt for a Cinnamon Sugar.  No cream, just a cronut with a generous sprinkling of sugar and spice (just like me.) It was good. Churro-esque, even. There were more layers than a traditional yeast donut, but for my taste, it could definitely use more of the flake factor of a croissant. Because they're fried, the oil can weigh down the dough and make it a little heavier. It tasted more donut-y than croissant-y, probably due to the fact that they are using the same oil to fry all their donuts. I think I hit an oil pocket at one point, which sent a little burst of oily wonderment down my throat. I didn't hate it, but I was not blown away.

Of course, if you really want to binge, DK's offers a Texas-sized O-Nut. You know, in lieu of a birthday cake... or for those lonely Saturday nights, when no one but the cat knows it's really not your birthday and you have 3 weeks worth of laundry piled on the couch that's not going to fold itself...

Second stop: Capicola's Gourmet Sandwiches. This restaurant recently opened in the space that used to by my favorite Indian restaurant. They did a mean chicken tikka masala, let me tell you. Apparently, I was the only one who thought so. The good news is Capicola's makes a good sandwich, and does a really good cronut. Their iteration is called the "Croinut" (see what they did there?) and on any given day, they offer 4-6 different varieties, including the Elvis (PB & banana), Peanut Butter Cup, Nutella, and the more traditional varieties like plain glazed and cinnamon & sugar. By the time I got there, the regular sized pastries were gone, but there were two full trays of the 2-bite cronuts.  I grabbed a half dozen variety and bolted home. Compared to the DK pastries, Capicola's has got the cronut down.  They have the flake factor that was missing from the DK's version, and they don't taste like donut. Perhaps because it was the baby version, I didn't feel the weight of the Capicola's cronut like I did with the DK's version. Even with the glaze and the cream filling, I prefer this version. Also for my taste, the 2-bite cronut is the better option - you definitely don't have the heavy, oily overload that I experienced with the DK version.

Long story short, L.A.'s knockoff cronuts (cronots?) are alright.  I think I'd have to try the original to really be able to compare to the LA knockoff. Truth be told, if I never have another O-Nut or Croinut again, I'll be okay. So will my cholesterol levels.




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Remember me?

I'm really gonna try to start blogging again. REALLY, REALLY gonna try. I'm not making any promises, though.

I will also say that in this futile attempt to get back into the blogging thang, I'm also importing my blog over to POSTEROUS.COM, which is allegedly better and faster blogging. I love instant gratification, don't you?!

Cross your fingers...

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I thought I was going to blog on a weekly basis. I told myself I would. I told YOU I would. I haven't. It's like I want to fail... Sorry.

Pay it forward...

The world is a cynical place.  Far too often, I find myself going down the jaded path of life.  Don't get me wrong, I'm not a Debbie Downer or anything.  At the same time, I try not to look at the world through rose colored glasses.  Things happen to everyone.  Sometimes good, sometimes bad.  I think I lean more on the side of the pragmatist than the wishful thinker. It's sorta like the the old saying, "The best defense is a good offense." I've got the offense going at all times. I'm pretty certain that everyone's got an ulterior motive. Deep down, I guess I just don't trust anyone.

Imagine my surprise when, on Easter Sunday, my car got broken into. What a horribly invasive feeling. There wasn't anything in my car that was of any real value. Nevertheless, I felt completely violated. Someone had gone through my stuff. They took some of it. That was my hockey puck. Those CDs that I hadn't listened to in almost 8 years were mine. I don't know - maybe the thief was in dire need of the replacement bulb for the back tail light of his 1996 Ford Ranger, and that's why he stole my owner's manual. I'm sure that handicapped permits can net a pretty penny on the black market. Same goes for the Walkman that was taken, too. The one thing that I am thankful for is the fact that no windows were broken. Turns out, a flathead screwdriver can pry open my sliding rear window. Don't get any ideas - there's nothing good left in my car to pillage. Shoulda gotten here before Easter. So my crap got taken. It sucks, but what are you going to do? I still have my car. I'm not stupid enough to leave my iPod, cell phone, Bluetooth headset, or cash in the car. The loss could have been much worse, right? I think I was more upset about the fact that someone actually went through the trouble of breaking into my car at all, especially when you can take a peek inside and CLEARLY see that there's nothing worth stealing inside. Despite what my dad says, I doubt that a coffee cup full of pens (half of which don't work) would lure would-be thieves to my car. All I know is if I broke into my car, I would be very disappointed. I think the items that were stolen were taken purely out of spite. Why fill your backpack with crap that won't get you even a couple of crystals of meth? Move on.

Apparently, that's pretty much what the thief thought. I received a message at home today from "Mike." Mike has apparently found my owner's manual in an alley a few miles from my house. My car's registration and proof of insurance was in there, so I guess that's how he was able to research my phone number. Or maybe he called my dentist - his business card was also in the portfolio that I keep the owner's manual in.

So now, I'm waiting to hear back from "Mike," so that we can arrange to meet. I'll give him $20, and he'll hand over my owner's manual. He probably doesn't have my cell phone car charger, or the headset that I use to talk on the phone when I forget to bring my Bluetooth headset. I'm not going to ask him either. Don't think that I haven't suspected "Mike" of being the guy who originally broke into my car. Maybe he was looking for an iPod, but settled for my Walkman instead. Perhaps after taking stock of the unfortunate bounty that came from my car, "Mike" was riddled with guilt and disappointment, and decided to give me back my owner's manual. He's probably banking on some sort of reward, and he'll ultimately end up getting his next hit of meth from me after all. This time, though, it won't be so labor intensive for "Mike."

On the other hand, there's a teensy weensy chance that "Mike" is just a good samaritan who, while on a daily walk through the alleys of San Pedro, stumbled upon a blue pleather portfolio containing my almost expired insurance and registration, as well as the owner's manual to my car. Despite what suspicions I may have of "Mike," I've learned that sometimes it's better to just accept things as they're offered to you - positive or negative. Perhaps this is my payback for a nice thing I did for someone in the past. Lord knows I've found my share of wallets and other personal items lying near garbage cans or tossed under bushes. I've tried to return them to their rightful owners because I know what it's like. So maybe the ulterior motive in this case is to thank me for the good deed I've done to someone else.

Probably not, but it's nice to think so.

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Pffft....

We're all friends, right?  I mean... I can tell you anything and you won't judge me, or think less of me.  Actually, it'll probably clear a few things up.  I'm just going to throw it out there.  Ready?

I loved watching Hee-Haw when I was a kid.  

I remember that it used to come out on Sunday, either right before, or right after Lawrence Welk.  I remember that I wasn't into Lawrence Welk (he was such an old fuddy-duddy, and those bubbles & polkas were so silly...)  But I LOVED watching Hee-Haw.  Maybe it was the fact that I grew up in Texas, so I wasn't averse to Country music.  I thought the skits were pretty funny, too.  At least to a 7 year old, there were some real knee slappers.

Like this one:

I'm laughing now.  That's right.  I'm a bassackwards country bumpkin.  And I'm damn proud of it.

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Don't Rock the Boat...

Ever the explorers, (Chad only because I drag him to these places), the end of the weekend took us to another cutesie place for dinner:  Siori Sushi Bune in Redondo Beach.  I know, I know...  what's the big deal?  Just another run-of-the-mill sushi restaurant in town, right?  NO!  This place has the extra added bonus of showcasing its various rolls aboard little wooden boats that cruise around the sushi bar.

Now, before you even start in on me, I know that we're not eating traditional sushi.  I am not a sushi purist.  I've never been to Japan, and I certainly don't think for one second that I could appreciate half of the offerings in a traditional Japanese sushi restaurant.  I'm in California, so bring on the "Crab with a K" and the Spider Rolls, put 'em on little colored plates (each color denotes the price of the item) and send 'em out to the dining room on a wooden boat!  When I get to Osaka, I'll hit the sushi places there and write a compare & contrast.

The downside to the little boats o' sushi adventure is that on a Sunday evening around 7:30PM, the restaurant is pretty empty so there's not a lot of sushi being sent out to sea (if you catch my drift.)  I guess it's better that the restaurant held back on filling up the boats for Chad and I - since we were the only people in the joint - as opposed to having all kinds of sushi warming up with each lap around the sushi bar.  I think next time, we're going to have to try a Friday or Saturday evening to experience the full effect. I think I saw the same tempura shrimp roll float by at least 40 times.

So now, since I've got all things Japanese on my brain, I'm going to have to go to Mitsuwa tomorrow and walk around.  Maybe pick up some lunch.  And some magical Japanese eyeliner.  It's amazing. You should try it.

Photos courtesy of Dan Paik 

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