tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5768225348691253862026-02-10T16:01:32.752-08:00One girl. One city. Over 50 specialized gourmet food trucks. Can she hit them all? You'll have to stay tuned. She'll have to eat her way out of this challenge...Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08597591527376339122noreply@blogger.comBlogger65125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-576822534869125386.post-3471974981273153702013-05-24T08:24:00.000-07:002015-01-24T18:52:56.825-08:00

Sometimes when asked what time it is, the answer is simply: Sushi Burrito O' Clock. Not quite sure what a sushi burrito is? A little amused that you can get one from a food truck? Ever used Doritos as a nacho base? Ok, I'll calm down. Everything you need to know about sushi burritos, spicy tuna Dorito nachos, and my enthusiastic dabbling in the slowest parkour ever can be witnessed here:

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08597591527376339122noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-576822534869125386.post-47767805599669616042013-05-10T07:37:00.000-07:002013-05-10T07:40:28.830-07:00

Guys, I am over cupcakes. My frustration with their omnipresence has manifested itself here-in this poem I have written, which is meant to be read/sung to the music of Bust A Move. I have included a link to the Young MC video, to encourage singing along. This one's for you. This here's a tale for all the bakeries: Way over cupcakes, Please don't make these Five years ago they ruled the

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08597591527376339122noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-576822534869125386.post-76091832342775329002013-05-02T08:31:00.002-07:002013-05-02T08:33:39.718-07:00

Confession time! I once worked in a situation (for years) in which warm-from-the-oven chocolate chip cookies were served everyday after lunch. It was BRUTAL. Each day started with a quiet promise to myself that today was going to be the first day of the rest of my life, meaning I would not UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES eat a cookie. And definitely not the 3 or 4 I had grown accustomed to. And every

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08597591527376339122noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-576822534869125386.post-28730073561688919002013-04-29T08:12:00.000-07:002013-04-29T08:12:36.819-07:00

I have always believed that I share a poetic soul with Flo Rida. In truth, we have very little in common. Unlike Flo, I have never studied international business management at the University of Nevada. And he (one must assume) has never purchased a Groupon for laser hair removal. And yet...Ohhh, sometimes I get a good feeling. I get a feeling that I never, never, never had before. And that

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08597591527376339122noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-576822534869125386.post-55993541101028534912013-04-25T11:47:00.000-07:002013-04-25T11:47:00.389-07:00

I visited the Holy Aioli truck on a day that smelled of sunshine and garlic. I got a crunchy on the outside, ooozey on the inside, pungently perfect sandwich. And I ate that sandwich, and the accompanying truffle fries, in front of a bank of windows at the Wilshire location of LA Fitness.   The only thing I appreciate more than truffle fries is irony.   So here are a few minutes

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08597591527376339122noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-576822534869125386.post-92096016421525973842013-04-14T08:37:00.000-07:002013-04-14T08:37:22.274-07:00

The first oyster shooter I ever did was at 11:06 in the morning. I have absolutely NEVER had an oyster for breakfast before, and I have certainly not had vodka before noon since college. For a significant chunk of adulthood years, breakfast for me has arrived predictably lacquered with syrup, or topped with an appropriately pre-day egg; varied in its preparation, but consistent in its

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08597591527376339122noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-576822534869125386.post-3854946209133483602013-03-14T09:38:00.002-07:002013-03-14T09:38:53.301-07:00

Cheesecake is the little black dress of desserts. It is a go-to, a default, guaranteed by the FDIC up to the amount of $250,000 to be awesome. But its reliable glory is also its greatest downfall. It can be found in neat cubes, chopped out of its circular mothership in order to serve the needs of a paper-lined grocery store sampler platter. Wobbly wedges of it are served at awkward Christmas

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08597591527376339122noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-576822534869125386.post-77453925083395632472013-02-19T18:43:00.000-08:002013-02-26T10:48:37.324-08:00

PulledPork is a powerful thing. And with great power comes great responsibility. To the People. The PulledPork People. So: ME (and you) Take a look at the Sharpie hieroglyphics marking the side of any nearby Starbucks cup and it’s clear. We want what we want, and DON’T MESS with it. I’m saucy. I’m a saucy lady. I like a well-bolognesed pasta, a drowned enchilada, and I like my

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08597591527376339122noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-576822534869125386.post-45121782442925862582013-02-11T15:52:00.000-08:002013-02-11T15:52:03.109-08:00

What’s not to like about going to the doctor? A half-day off of school, a zesty interaction with amiable office staffers in primary colors, a quick pass of an ice cold stethoscope, and you’re out-lollipop and sticker in hand, and all appendage repair done by riotously themed band-aids. Or at least…that’s how it is when you’re 10. I recently subjected myself to an adult check-up. Having

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08597591527376339122noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-576822534869125386.post-26793260412678021132012-11-16T09:06:00.000-08:002012-11-16T09:06:11.853-08:00

“A rolling stone gathers no moss. And gets to eat their way across the country.” That is a very famous quote, you guys. Word for word. And brother, have I been rolling. A couple of months ago I packed my car with snacks and underwear and set out upon the Great American Road Trip. The plan? Coast to Coast, Bite by Bite. I Googled directions, and immediately made them irrelevant by dragging

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08597591527376339122noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-576822534869125386.post-57457801667337557652012-11-08T10:15:00.000-08:002012-11-08T10:15:17.016-08:00

A busload of ten year olds including myself sat in devil’s food darkness, passing around rolls of Pep-O-Mint Lifesavers. We had heard that if you bit into them they would shoot sparks, and this class trip to see the Christmas Spectacular at Radio City had given us a mobile laboratory. We planned to use the time spent sitting in traffic after the show, the value pack of silver skirted 

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08597591527376339122noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-576822534869125386.post-78820826354911785702012-10-16T14:11:00.000-07:002012-11-16T09:09:15.223-08:00

  The most terrifying 9 seconds of my life happen immediately after flushing an airplane toilet.   There are 5 seconds of ominous mechanical silence and inactivity, just long enough to make me wonder “did I push the button hard enough?” This is followed by 4 seconds of sudden deafening noise and suction, the kind which leaves me convinced every single time that I have

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08597591527376339122noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-576822534869125386.post-86499798593333608562012-10-09T11:28:00.000-07:002012-11-16T09:10:37.349-08:00

I had a rather long love affair with a fish the other night. We made lusty eye contact with each other several times across an electric humming restaurant. This whole fish, lets call him “Branzino,” stretched out atop an openwork grate, which sat about a foot above the orange choreography of a troupe of well-attended flames. And for at least 45 minutes “Branzino” sizzled and smoked and melted

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08597591527376339122noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-576822534869125386.post-47943151301885975162012-10-02T20:59:00.001-07:002012-10-02T21:08:31.255-07:00

Where have I BEEN?! This post shall reveal all! It's been a while since you've gotten a food truck review from me (and honestly, what am I thinking, that's my job forgodssake!) And I know you are all waiting soooo patiently to see what my #1 Bite of Bite Club is (especially since #3 was such a shocker.) But the truth is I have been exploring the gothic, gorgeous, humid, historic

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08597591527376339122noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-576822534869125386.post-46621554325198301342012-09-25T08:15:00.000-07:002012-09-25T08:15:55.744-07:00

The Social Media Week Cross-City Food Truck Challenge is this week. Do you know where your food truck is? It’s hard to find a cluster of people standing beside a food truck in Los Angeles, who are NOT on their phones. They are tweeting their experience by the minute, instagramming their orders, and if they’re like me, blogging on the go.     The Social Media Week Cross-City

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08597591527376339122noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-576822534869125386.post-92162389711105936192012-09-18T20:24:00.000-07:002012-09-27T21:03:44.423-07:00

I had been wounded. I was a bit stunned. Betrayed. Disappointed. There is a scene in Michael Clayton when George Clooney stops his shiny black villain’s car on a small country road at dawn. The steely anti-morning presents to him a collection of horses on a hill. In silence, he gets out, and makes his way up the steep hill to commune with the magnificent beasts, every one nearly motionless

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08597591527376339122noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-576822534869125386.post-9185487145880652972012-09-11T09:31:00.000-07:002012-09-21T10:28:06.866-07:00

I wore hot pink shoes. THAT’S how excited I was to eat at Umamicatessen. It was a throwback night. A celebratory, take-the-train-into-downtown with a beloved friend, wear shoes that will leave scars but know you will have enough cocktails to not feel them form as it happens, night.   Umamicatessen is five different restaurant “concepts,” all served in one dining experience. In

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08597591527376339122noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-576822534869125386.post-88831639783462853512012-09-04T21:00:00.003-07:002012-12-04T08:50:47.171-08:00

My grandmother kept her lips an unflinching shade of “Hawaiian Red” for 50 years. She kept black and white photographs even longer, and could always put her finger on any specific one when needed for proof regarding a date, or a fashion, or the actual existence and appearance of a person discussed. She kept silver squares of foil for a second or third use later, and kept the swirlingly

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08597591527376339122noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-576822534869125386.post-27076378743009547402012-08-28T01:59:00.000-07:002012-08-28T01:59:54.604-07:00

Let's review: As we near #1 on the Ten Best Bites, let's take a moment to recap. What have we seen so far? We saw Fritos go where no Frito has gone before... Don't freak out, this best bite is NOT fried, it turns out... My code name for this best bite is "Alien Autopsy." We learned that pink is not a flavor. Somehow this mystery side dish led to a conversation on Allen Ginsberg...

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08597591527376339122noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-576822534869125386.post-15658509967770093282012-08-21T02:09:00.000-07:002012-08-21T02:09:04.769-07:00

Today I throw a curve ball at you. Which is impressive, considering that I rarely throw anything ever. In my youth, tantrums. In adulthood, dinner parties. And now this. #5 on my Ten Best Bites list is…A series of sips, actually. A small collection of my favorite drinks in LA. Not necessarily trendy, but they are mine. And you can have them too. First: Remember in The Thomas Crown

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08597591527376339122noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-576822534869125386.post-71309033611775092422012-08-15T02:21:00.001-07:002012-09-21T10:26:37.267-07:00

I want to tell you something that I am ashamed of. And it’s shockingly NOT the fact that I have more than once opened an operational oven half way to a fully-cooked pan of brownies, to scoop off a bit of half-baked batter for myself. Nope, it’s not that. As a child I was a bottomless pit reader. Gifted with books as rewards for good grades or good deeds, my world was the size of the

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08597591527376339122noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-576822534869125386.post-9215750473690921572012-08-10T01:00:00.001-07:002012-09-21T10:31:26.325-07:00

I do not use a Bat-Signal. I can be summoned by the Hot Now sign at any nearby Krispy Kreme. If you ever need me, don’t be afraid to use it. Doughnuts have always been in my consciousness. I recall the shape of red blood cells in high school biology described as “a biconcave disk, with a flattened center.” Vancant stare. “Frances, they are doughnut shaped.” National Honor

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08597591527376339122noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-576822534869125386.post-53396735674378300772012-08-08T00:06:00.001-07:002012-09-21T10:31:54.301-07:00

One of the most depressing instances in modern life happens (but of course) on the treadmill. You wordlessly acknowledge to your reflection that, yes, indeed you are looking slimmer and fitter than usual. Only to step off the machine and realize that you had been straddling a mirror seam all along, thus visually shaving off about 30% of what’s actually there. A similar effect takes place

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08597591527376339122noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-576822534869125386.post-80138352322928035792012-08-02T20:41:00.003-07:002012-08-08T00:08:24.433-07:00

I wish I weren’t like this. But I am. I usually go to a restaurant with my choice already made. I listen politely to specials, listen anxiously to the options they have run out of, and listen detachedly to what the server suggests as their favorite. And then I read every single line of the menu, and choose the dish I’ve been lusting after while licking the online menu for the past several

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08597591527376339122noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-576822534869125386.post-17026007372729123222012-07-30T13:45:00.000-07:002012-08-03T23:54:55.122-07:00

There is almost always an easier way to do something than the way I have chosen. When my vacuum cleaner was sucking only figuratively, and not literally, in an act of home appliance pouty-ness somehow the attachments seemed to still be working just fine. Which boils down shockingly quickly to me vacuuming my entire apartment with a one inch wide nozzle. It looked less like a simple tidying up

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08597591527376339122noreply@blogger.com1