Memoirs of a professional eater
Celebrating 25 years of reviewing the restaurants of Greater Pasadena
07/29/2009
Well, well, well. How time does fly when you’re having fun (or not so much fun, depending). Anyhow, it’s been a nice 25 years, eating and writing and eating and writing and eating and writing for the Weekly. I’ve been through at least five owners, more editors and format changes than you can shake a stick at, and here I am: a middle-aged reviewer, still seeking out that quintessential dining experience. I figure, at about 1,000 calories per meal, I’ve consumed about one million of the little suckers over the past 25 years. By all calculations, I should have put on about 300 pounds. Luckily, it’s an order of magnitude less, so I’m grateful.
What keeps me going? Well, it’s certainly not the pay scale. I started at $25 a week. My last major raise was, if I remember correctly, in 1987, when I negotiated a whopping $50 (that, too, is an order of magnitude less than the allowance of major papers) to pay for meals so I could dine anonymously. Until then, I’d had to cadge food from owners, which meant chatting them up during dinner and, necessarily, skewing the review in their favor or suffering the consequences. Better to skulk in unobserved and write what I wanted to, I pleaded, and got my way. Since that time, I’ve become more and more reclusive. My present editor has never met me; for all he knows, I might be a couple of males with a pseudonym, like Ellery Queen. Or an erudite orangutan.
But enough about me. What’s happened in the world of restaurants over the past two-and-a-half decades? Well, for one thing, the Weekly’s outlived a majority of the restaurants that have come under its scrutiny. Of those I reviewed in 1984, only eleven oldies but goodies survive: Barney’s, Mijares, Robin’s, Spring Garden, Shogun, Kabuki, Stoney Point, The Raymond, Tarantino’s, Burger Continental and the Parkway Grill. And, 25 years later, there’s not one of them I wouldn’t recommend. In later years, the mortality rate was often higher. The 1986 survivals number only seven: Julienne, Min’s, Ernie’s, The Only Place in Town, Islands, Happy Trails and Green Street.
Running through the list of the dear departed is like visiting a small-town cemetery. It’s a bittersweet experience. Anybody remember the Australian “Billabong?” Or the aged and gentle Kabakian brothers, who insisted on feeding their clients? Monahan’s, Pasadena’s top watering hole? And Maldonado’s, whose music was as good as its food? George and Michael, partners in the Greek restaurant and innovative bakery Cafe 60 North, now both dead of AIDS? How about Rose City Diner? My review suggested it was run by aliens who didn’t really have a handle on ’50s food. (Even the owner admitted the cherry pie tasted like cardboard!) But what energy! And jazz at Inn’Artys?
Some of the most unusual and interesting eating places didn’t last long. I’ve always wondered if it was the stodginess of Pasadena or the timidity of chef/owners who dumbed down their food in fear of alienating their patrons. At any rate, Violet’s (Russian), Bali Palace (Indonesian), Taste of Athens (Greek), Chopstix (Asian-fusion), Claude’s Mussels (French), Ibex (Ethiopian), Breezeway Cafe (Southern), Arirang (Korean), Yaas (Persian) and Boomerock (don’t ask — it involved cooked stones and raw meat) are no more.
On the other hand, I’m grateful that unique local restaurants like Tibet-Nepal House, Azeen’s (Afghan), Kingston Cafe (Jamaican), La Luna Negra (Spanish), Kansai (Japanese noodles), Rotisserie Chicken, Saladang Song (Thai “street food”), All-India (Indian “street food”) and La Cabanita (Mexico City Mexican) have survived to date. I wish them long life and hope for more.
And, in the half-decade since I wrote the first version of these “memoirs” for the Weekly’s 20th anniversary issue, some new stars have appeared. I’m delighted with Oinkster, Madeleines, Minx, Brits, Larkin’s, redwhite&bluezz, Cafe 322, Daisy Mint, Malbec, Elements, 3 Drunken Goats, Mike & Anne’s, Bistro de la Gare, Naga Naga, Spitfire Saloon, 1810, Linda’s and a whole host of other restaurants.
They’ve made the past five years much more than reprise and validated a slogan on one of my T-shirts: “So Many Restaurants, So Little Time.”
There’ve been a few surprises over the years. In 1984, I never would have guessed I’d be tired of pizza or bitching about the overabundance of Thai restaurants. Cilantro was rare except in salsa, “tiramisu” was an unknown term and goat cheese wasn’t on anyone’s everyday shopping list. Chains have gotten better. Who could imagine that Souplantation, Buca di Beppo and the Cheesecake Factory would be among the most popular restaurants in town? One chain, surprisingly, didn’t succeed here. Jerry’s Deli was much too short-lived in Pasadena; like Arnold Schwarzenegger, they promised they’d be back — but I’m still waiting. Chicken matzoh ball soup is a necessary comfort in turbulent times like these, and I’d gladly circulate a petition to bring it back, along with blintzes and sour cream, hot pastrami on fresh corn rye and chocolate egg creams.
Being the main restaurant reviewer for the Weekly is like most marriages. It’s brought a lot of pleasure and some small amount of pain over the past 25 years. Our first dining guide, for instance, necessitated writing and typing (by hand) cheery blurbs on 100 or so eateries over a long and sleepless weekend. Repeated editing and proofing led to stronger glasses and my first home computer. Nowadays, it’s all “on-line,” from first draft to final email attachment. There are still weeks when I can’t think of a thing to write, and weeks when the possibilities are overwhelming.
Back in the late ’80s, when the Weekly was connected with the Los Angeles Independent and the Glendale News-Press needed a substitute reviewer (theirs dropped dead in the shower, which should have been a warning), I was writing three columns a week. I felt naked without a fork or a pen in my hand. Even though my schedule has become a lot lighter in the past few years, I truly never thought I’d make it past the millennium. But the paper and I are still here — and still together. Congratulations to both of us on our 25th anniversary.
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In reviewing eating establishments of the bygone era how's about "Merida". I'd like to know what ever happened to the owners and if they have a new place.