I Went To LA And All I Got Was This Lousy Food Blog

You probably think I don't cook anymore.

This wouldn't be entirely untrue. It's been a busy summer; most of the cooking I've been doing has been limited to hitting the "popcorn" button on the microwave. The rest has been a succession of miserable failures alongside only slightly morose failures. When I was lucky enough to have the time to cook at all, mind -- my mother came to visit twice, and then...okay, I can't remember what else. Anyway, I didn't cook much.

And then I went to Southern California to visit my mom (because twice the month before was apparently not enough) and I didn't cook at all.

But I most certainly didn't starve.
I stepped off the plane in Long Beach, 5 hours after a sandwich. I'd had two teensy little cookies courtesy of the airline which did. not. cut. it. I didn't know what I wanted to eat, I didn't know where I wanted to eat, but someone was going to die if I didn't. Modica's Deli in Long Beach didn't thrill me at first sight -- I didn't really know that I wanted another sandwich -- but, well...it was love at first bite.

My sandwich had fresh mozzarella and ultra thin slices of prosciutto, fresh basil, oil and vinaigrette. The bread was perfect -- all air and crust. Enough substance that it never got soggy, but it never overpowered the filling. It was clear that the pesto on my pasta salad had been made from scratch that day; I could taste the ground pine nuts and the basil. It's a rare occurrence that I eat something at a restaurant that makes me say "I could NOT have done any better at home" -- and I certainly never say that about a sandwich. But there's a first time for everything.

Mother didn't fare too badly either:
She had a make-your-own salad option wherein you choose a few items to make up your salad. She chose caprese salad with steamed asparagus, some kind of cucumber feta combination, and a side of sauteed mushrooms. The whole shebang cost her about 10 bucks. Beat that.

I could have eaten every meal at Modica's, but there are certain places you have to go when you visit the Golden State, and Canter's is one of them.

Canter's is a Jewish deli where a lot of famous people go and blah, blah, blah, look at their pastries...

I had two perfect sweet, soft, chocolate macaroons. Finally -- something that tastes as good as thin feels, yo.

Later in the trip, when what I really wanted was an iced coffee and not dinner, my mother dragged me past Bono's, the restaurant owned by Cher and Sunny Bono's kid.

Hey, I'm all for supporting transgendered-owned business, but I wasn't hungry, damnit. Not until I spotted the calamari on someone's table.

It was not, unfortunately, worth it. But it sure looked pretty. As did our meals.



My pesto was runny; my mother's pasta was reminiscent of Spaghetti-o's. Sure, it was edible, but it was uninspiring. It didn't even come close to Modica's; maybe I should have eaten there for every meal.