Comfort Cafe R.I.P.

This review is for a place that no longer exists, but it still deserves mention because I enjoyed many-a-meal here. There's a new place there now and I'll eventually give you the details on it, but for now, it's all Old School.

I'm not gay, but the Comfort Cafe was. It was next to the Body Builders Gym on Hyperion in Silver Lake. The gym, which I belong to, inadvertently led me to the Comfort Cafe, being that one of its' owners decided to open a healthy meets delicious little neighborhoody spot. (Btw the gym is also "really" gay, but again, I'm not. Seriously. Ask my boyfriend! hehehe!) Now I'm comfortable enough in my adoration and admiration of the pink pastry to frequent both of these establishments (the cafe and the gym) but I only recommend eating at the former. For shits and giggles you can refer to it as the "cumface cafe" as my wife and I do - as a childish jab at it's gayness. ("My wife" is not code for "some dude" it's a real woman. Take that prop 8!)

The food here was really good. I mean really good. And people knew it. The cool thing was that not enough people knew it. Which was awesome. I must have eaten here 50 times and I never waited for more than 2 people in front of me. The food was always hot, pretty healthy (really healthy if you wanted that shit), and really delicious. I'm honestly saying as scrumptious as Tyrese's abs on a hammock in July. Now that's HOT! What? Oh, the food. You could get all kinds of veggie, protein, beans, and wheat at this place, but I'm a man of principle and high cholesterol so nothing wets my whistle like the breakfast of fat men - steak and eggs. This is a staple of any lazy person's diet, but more often than not, it is a catastrophic failure. Mostly because this meal is usually consumed at diners and it's no secret that diners use steak that is, well, shit. Shit steaks make for more of a shit 'n eggs meal and that's not what I'm going for. The "cumface" used really tender, marinated cuts of beef with all the flavoring you needed. No need for steak sauce, this was actual quality meat. The eggs were always made perfectly to your liking and they also gave you a sliced tomato which provided a nice cleansing contrast to the beef. Don't try to question this. It really was a treat. As sure as capri pants are gay and European (is there a difference?) this was a steak and eggs worth talking about...and missing. I miss you delicious steak and eggs. I miss you.

Love,
Tom (your boyfriend)

Lucky Pierre's

I don't like referring people to really expensive restaurants. Mostly because I can't afford them and I'm too old to dine and dash. But also because it feels pretentious and obvious to do so. As in, "Well yeah, it was $200. It HAS to be good." But that isn't always the case my minimum-wage-working-friends. Sometimes you will spend a lot of money to eat at a fancy foo-foo spot and you'll leave saying "that was okay," or even worse, "that sucked ostrich nuts." Imagine spending your entire weekly salary on ONE meal and then being disappointed. Dios mio! I can say that I have had that experience on a number of occasions but that was not the case at Pierre's Restaurant (81600 Overseas Highway, Islamorada, FL 33036 Ph: 305-664-3225) in the enchanted waters of Florida's keys. First of all, Mr. Pierre gets a big bonus for architecture. A big, beautiful, colonial style mansion is the structure that attempts to contain the gastric warrior that is Pierre's. Upon entering you feel as though you are being welcomed into an exclusive club or West African retreat or maybe just a regular home if you are really wealthy and big homes no longer impress you. Once you are seated upstairs, where the dining room is (downstairs is home to the bar), you will be overlooking the majestic waters of this secluded haven and the mediocre service will take over! (On my night, the service was so-so, but I presume if you are a regular or if you "appear" wealthy, it may be much better.) Now that you've waited 15 minutes for water, get ready to stuff your carcass with the goodies that the Jones' are eatin' cause this place ain't playin'! For my appetizer I ordered a soft shell crab. I KNOW. You've had 'em, you are not impressed. Or you're from Maine or Baltimore and they are only good where YOU are from. Well kick me in the cock and call me Candice, because this soft shell crab was astounding. First of all, it was served HOT. Soft shell crab should always be served hot enough to have you hospitalized. Great meat, a flaky, crisp exterior, but not too doughy and thick and that sauce. Oh the sauce. You see, Pierre's is a French "influenced" eatery that also takes notes from it's south Florida locale, so every item has some unexpected twist. This isn't your standard soft shell crab plate. Back to the sauce- on the menu it reads "Honey mustard aioli" sauce will accompany your warm spinach, crab, and candied walnuts. What it should have said is, "sauce that will make you reevaluate your meaningless life." The sauce was one to remember. Subtle enough that it didn't take away from the meat, yet fiery enough to note it's presence. Almost like an actor that doesn't do too much, but still, you leave affected by his subdued performance. Like Steve Buscemi. Not like Jim Carrey. This sauce is no Jim Carrey. I really could have had 37 of these soft shell crab appetizers. Next up: Duck. I've never killed a duck in my life, but if all ducks tasted like this duck then I would be the spokesman for duck genocide. I've had some good duck, mind you, but Lucky Pierre makes a mouth watering, tender love treat that will leave you either extremely happy or violently angry (that you've never had it before). My date that night (some blonde) had the lobster tail, which was also superb, but, as she noted, lacked some type of starch, as it was only accompanied by peas and carrots - sort of an odd choice. Lastly, we left room for a Chocolate Bomb. No, that's not my clever way of describing what is essentially a chocolate souffle accompanied, of course, by a small serving of homemade vanilla ice cream and a little raspberry sauce, which I always hate (the raspberry sauce). It is actually on the menu as a "Chocolate Bomb" so it's Pierre's clever way of describing what is essentially a chocolate souffle accompanied by homemade vanilla ice cream and raspberry sauce. Inside the perfectly designed chocolate bomb flowed a darker, richer, hot, melted chocolate that could only be described as having the texture and taste of blood- the blood that must flow thru the veins of all the angels and saints in heaven. Its warm, delicate consistency moved me to what many would claim as a spiritual enlightenment. I was too embarrassed to say "bring me 6 more of those," but I wanted to. Again, this was not a cheap meal, but, as the old saying goes, neither is a good hooker.

So Much Food, So Little Time

I'm lazy. I just want to put that out there. I haven't written anything on here since my first blog was posted a long time ago, but, this is a blog about food so it should be expected that the writer would be a bit lazy. Honestly, to all my readers, meaning you, mom, and you, my girlfriend, I'm sorry. I should give you more. Here's a quick recap of where I've been and what I've eaten over the last year. Much more to come!

Kansas City:

If you like late night delicious greasy food and (loud) black people head on over to HAYES 2502 NE Vivion Rd
Kansas City, MO 64118-6222 Phone: (816) 453-5575. This place is small, smokey, and ready for "whateva" when it gets late. I absolutley loved it. Cheesy hashbrowns, burgers, and crazy, enormous cinnamon bunz drenched in sweet spread are especially wonderful between 3 and 5am. I was drunk, but I would argue that all of it was probably really good if you were sober too.

KC is also home to the original ARTHUR BRYANT'S, (1727 Brooklyn Ave KC, MO. Phone: 816-231-1123) which, oddly enough has great, greasy food and (rude) black people. This place should be a nationally preserved historic landmark. This is real bbq. Not that bullshit you make at home. This place is O.G. - as in an 80 year old smoke pit and sauce that contains copious amounts of animal fat. This is coronary trauma food. Your mouth will melt right before your left arm goes numb. Don't worry - that's just the sauce stopping the natural flow of your arteries. You will never forget this food. I would trade a heart attack for a bite right now. Also, I got the feeling you could get robbed or score good drugs or both at either of these establishments.

EL PASO:

Lets say you're in El Paso and you're fat. Head on over to FAMOUS DAVE'S 7501 N. Mesa St. El Paso, TX. Ph: 915-760-5355. I know! I know! You're saying, "Hey, that's a chain restaurant, Tom. Those are never good. Thank for nothing, you dickless half-wit." First of all, no need to insult me. Secondly, I'm only vouching for the El Paso location and if you don't like what they serve at the El Paso location then you're probably Asian or maybe you hate BBQ. But really, be sure to try the dick tips. Just kidding! But isn't it fun to say "dick tips?!" Especially as a food? It's just got a fun ring to it. Say it again. "One order of dick tips, side of cole slaw, please." Get the burnt ends plate and hang yourself with a cow's tail dipped in the sweet sauce if you don't like it.


CINCINNATI:

This is my hometown and I've had what I'm going to recommend here on more than one occasion. This is not a "discovery" write-up. I'm just giving props to a staple of society - SKYLINE CHILI (www.skylinechili.com). The same way AIDS and San Francisco couldn't exist without each other, Cincy and Skyline Chili dogs go finger in cooch. This is real food. It's simple, it's delicious, and it's wildly unhealthy for you. Who cares? To start, you should get a small plate of pasta with chili, cheese, and onions. But make sure you say, "I'll have a four-way" matter-of-factly so they don't think you're a fag. Then get chili cheese dogs - 3 or more. Then go home. Shit. Sleep. Shit again.

TAMPA:

If you've ever been to the French Quarter in New Orleans during the day, you've probably been taken by the charm and class that old French architecture and culture brings to that part of the city. At night, the streets overflow with mindless drunks and urine, but still, the charm remains. If you haven't been to the Ybor City section of Tampa just know that it's like the French Quarter only without the class or charm or architecture or culture or anything remotely French. It DOES have more urine and trashy white people, so you can relish in the trade-off: sure this place isn't very cool, but at least the people suck. Anyhoodles, there is one sugar cube in this festering turd of a "city" and that is the BAKED goodies inside of the greek restaurant ACROPOLOS GREEK TAVERNA 1833 E Seventh Street, Ybor City, FL 33605 Ph: 813-242-4545. I want to make it clear that I'm not suggesting that this is the best Greek food ever - it's not. It's not terrible, but it's not astounding. Whether you love or hate their entrees is up to you, but I will wrestle your testicles off in a bout of rage if you can present me with a better baklava. Big, flaky, and moist, this delectable ottoman treat is sweeter than the sweet nectar that must endlessly flow from Heidi Klums hoo-haas. This is a baklava to remember while the rest of the city begs you to blackout. Which you will.

HARTFORD:

Don't go to Hartford.

ERIE:

Don't go to Erie. Sorry. Go to Hartford and find something cool to do and something good to eat cause I didn't. Make sure not to tell me about it. Thanks.

CHEESEBURGER PLEASE

When you think of Los Angeles you probably think "gay" or "too many freeways." And when you think of food in Los Angeles you probably think "tofu" or "gay." But you'd be surprised at how many amazing places in L.A. have really fantastic food. It's almost overwhelming. I'll do my best to share with you the many eateries that are worth making a trip to. Let me begin by telling you about one of my favorites. If you're ever in West Hollywood (it's just West of Hollywood) and you've sold your ass for a bag of nickels and now it's either "get something to eat" or "smoke a little angel dust" go ahead and get high. But then later, when you're dragging your lifeless body out of a gutter, head over to Irv's Burgers (8289 Santa Monica Blvd, West Hollywood, CA 90069...323.650.2456). When you arrive at this tiny meathaven you will be greeted by Sonia, a Korean immigrant whose grasp of the English language can only be trumped by her endless charm and string of medals in the winter games. Sonia runs this operation with her immediate family - all of whom will welcome you like family. After Sonia gets your order - order a number 2, don't be lame - she will offer you something to read and then tell you that you and your cousin should stop living together because you are grown men. Then, after what seems to be an eternity, but in actuality is a completely reasonable waiting period, your double cheeseburger with seasoned fries arrives on a simple white paper plate. Here's the best part: Everything at this place is fresh. The meat, the bread, the tomatos. They slice fresh potatoes to make the fries for chrissake! Holy Shit for Tits!! this is what a buger joint should be! And get this, Sonia also goes the extra mile to make YOU, the consumer, feel extra special, Sonia will add a quick, poor drawing of something that stands out about you (your shitty teeth, bad facial hair, enormous gut, etc,) on to your paper plate in marker next to her trademarked slogan, "Just For You." I am an accomplished food consumer and I can say without any reservations that Irv's Burgers can kick In 'n Out's burgers in the balls any time. Any where. Take the needle out of your arm and get a burger. Stop fuckin around.