Along a strip of Melrose Avenue, just past La Brea is Franco on Melrose. It’s location is in the City of Angel’s culinary corridor featuring a few of the most lauded epicurean stops in the city including Providence, Mozza, Mud Hen Tavern and Trois Mec. To the south, one can wander to Republique or Odys + Penelope. It’s a hidden gem of an Italian eatery although a favorite among the celebrity set. However, the trattoria has been under the radar since its inception over four years ago. Why? Partially, says chef and owner Franco de Dominicis, “I didn’t have a beer and wine license. It was BYOB but now I do and things have changed.”
Originally born in Venezuela to Italian parents, de Dominicis was then raised in Paestum, Italy about a hundred miles south of Naples, renowned for its Greek and Roman archeological sites. The 2600-year-old settlement has also been known as the second largest agricultural center in Italy, the first being in Umbria. De Dominicis had an excellent childhood and gained a love of cookery via his family. He had formal culinary training at a Naples based school which supplied him with European apprenticeships. Now, in the States, the food he makes is indicative of his European and Italian roots, staying true to his youth. Proudly, de Dominicis makes all of his own pasta, ravioli, and lasagna. Many of the recipes are adapted recipes from his mother and childhood. He also sources as much as he can from the farmers markets throughout Los Angeles. It’s a true Los Angeles-based trattoria serving up Neapolitan fare without having to travel to Italy.
Franco on Melrose is a lovely place with a sidewalk awning extending out to the valet. Its roof is canopied and during the summer is open to the stars. The best thing about the new Italian-centric wine menu which was personally selected by de Dominicis it’s priced so reasonably you can imbibe with that second bottle while looking at the stars.
Chef Questionnaire:
How long have you been cooking? Since I was 13.
What is your favorite food to cook? Meat and fish and pasta.
What do you always have in your fridge at home? Milk, juices, herbs, prosciutto, burrata, eggs.
What do you cook at home? Sometimes I get together with friends and I love to do brunch with roasted beef tenderloin and rack of lamb.
What marked characteristic do you love in a customer? An open mind to try different things.
What marked characteristic do you find unappealing in a customer? Unwilling to expand their palate.
Tupperware, Rubbermaid, or Pyrex? Rubbermaid.
Beer, wine or cocktail? Definitely wine. A full body red and champagne.
How many tattoos? And if so, how many are of food? None.
Franco on Melrose’s Roasted Chicken and Pears
3-4 lbs. chicken, whole roasting
3 Anjou pears (Peeled and cut into quarters)
3 shallots (Cut into quarters)
2 carrots
2 celery stalk
2 cups white wine
1 tablespoon of fresh thyme
½ a tablespoon of freshly cut sage. Or thereabouts.
Salt and pepper
To Make: Pre heat oven a 400 degree. Take the chicken and stuff it with the whole pears, some thyme, some sage, and 1 shallots cut into quarters. Tie the legs back with twine. Place the chicken in a roasting pan, with all the carrots and celery, cut into pieces, add the rest of the shallots cut in ¼ as well, disperse the herbs around, poor the wine and salt and pepper to taste. Cover the chicken with aluminum foil and place in the oven for about 45 minutes. Uncover the chicken and let it finish cooking, for another 15 to 20 minutes, until a nice golden brown and juices run clear.
At the beginning of 2015, if anyone predicted that I would be living at year’s end in Phoenix — or starting my food blog for that matter, I would have howled with laughter. Me? In Phoenix? The American Southwest? Writing? Besides, press releases and commenting on Facebook? Yet, I am listening to my fountain cascade into the plunge pool and writing this lengthy post. I open the front door daily to walk the dogs and am awestruck with a view of Pietesawa Peak, crowned by blue skies and cottony clouds. Holly, our eleven-year-old Pitbull waddles past the security guard gate and the golf green, trying to keep up with J.J., our seven-year-old French bulldog, who likes to chase after rabbits. The bunnies hop around on our neighbor’s sixteenth golf hole, the nearby Frank Lloyd Wright-designed Arizona Biltmore – a mere five-minute walk to luxury pools and spas. I look at all this splendor with gratitude. It’s also coming from a person who – 25 years ago — thought he could never leave Manhattan, then the center of my Universe.
Photo by Kevin Dooley
As I grow older, and I’m grateful I am, the center of my Universe has expanded. Eventually, the Northeastern winters drove me to Los Angeles for 16 years, with 3 years in San Francisco for good behavior. Spiritually, I never felt either city was home though. They both seemed to be stopping points. I never really wanted meant to stay as long as I did. However, where do you go after Los Angeles, New York, and San Francisco? These are our national hubs of entertainment, technology and finance. International culture is unsurpassed in these meccas. You are supposed to want to be there. Did I think Miami? Paris? Back to New York? Phoenix wasn’t even a thought.
Photo by Kevin Dooley
After much discussion, Nick took the offered Phoenix position and we came out to look for a house. Instantly, we fell in love with the desert landscape, rich culture, sheer vastness and low-cost of living. Phoenix, in my eyes, is North America’s hidden gem, but it’s hard to hide the 6th largest city in the United States. However, it feels protected. Off the beaten path, waiting to be discovered. Tourists may come and visit one of Arizona’s 300 resorts but until you become a resident, hike the trails, meet the people, work and become a Phoenician do you understand the city’s natural splendor and sophistication.
I reckon The Valley of the Sun is physically the most attractive place I’ve ever lived. Red mountains are dissected by roads and Camelback, the dromedary rock formation casts its legendary shadow over the valley. It’s peaceful sentinel-like presence feels protective, calming and inspiring.
As we enter into the remaining days of 2015, and for the coming year, I urge you to allow change to happen. Step out of your comfort zone. The things you would say no to trying…try. Explore new possibilities and never say, “Never.” I’m so glad I did.
Photo by Alan Stark
Before I begin my 2015’s five – whoops, six most memorable food experiences, I need to let you dear reader know I still talk about these eats. That’s why I choose them. Some are new, some are not. I would go back to eat them time and again. Additionally, I paid for each one of these meals. Nothing was given gratis or comped, so I have nothing to gain from telling you about them.
Let’s start:
Photo Courtesy of Carson Kitchen
Carson Kitchen, Las Vegas, Nevada: Chicken Fried Skins, served with Smoked Honey Dipping Sauce ($9). The late Chef Kerry Simon, who died early this year with complications related to Mulitple Sclerosis, was a master of New American cooking. He imbued his dishes with a sense of humor and surprise. This dish is indicative of that experience. Who is going to order only chicken skins with a side of smoked honey? Well, I did. Three orders of the crunchy, salty, deliciously deep-fried morsels with the side of lightly smoked sweetness. I would never make this at home. Let’s definitely score points for that understanding.
Courtesy of Factory Kitchen
Factory Kitchen, Downtown Los Angeles, California: Handkerchief Pasta with Almond Basil Pesto ($19). I was living in San Francisco when I ate at Farina which is where I first had Chef Angelo Auriana’s superb pasta. I was in the middle of a fight with an ex. I try not to remember him. However, the sheet-like folds of pasta expertly painted with a light basil pesto, I remember. It wasn’t until I went to Factory Kitchen did it come back hauntingly. This time, I was celebrating one of my best friends birthdays (Shelley Levitt) in Los Angeles. We ordered the Ligurian-style noodle with green sauce. One bite, I knew I had eaten it once before. It’s so good that even years later I remembered it, except with this experience, the atmosphere was much more light-hearted and loving to enjoy it.
Photo Courtesy of Tropicale
The Tropicale Restaurant & Bar, Palm Springs, California:Brown Sugar-Brined, Double Cut Kurobata Pork Chop ($28). A little over a year ago, I discovered my longtime friend Chef Scooter Kanfer had encamped to this boisterous watering hole in the resort town of Palm Springs. About 10 years ago, she was the chef/owner of a stunning little place in LA’s Larchmont area called The House. Here, she received national accolades with her inventive takes on homespun items like macaroni and cheese and my favorite milk and cookies which is milk served in a whiskey shot glass accompanied by shortbread animal cookies. Now, she is under less pressure as the Chef de Cuisine of Tropicale but her food is still the best. I choose the Kurobata Pork Chop because she recommends it to me every time I see her. The only other place I ate this type of big, flavorful battering ram was at Cindy Pawlcyn’s Napa Valley-based Mustards Grill. I wasn’t in Napa this year but this may be the best pork chop in a restaurant ever.
Courtesy of Hollywood Pies
Hollywood Pies, Los Angeles, California: The Hollywood Pie ($27). I was never a lover of deep dish Chicago style pies. I didn’t get it. And then, I ate from this blink-and-you-miss-it spot. Jesus made this pizza for me. Seriously, that’s one of the names of the pie-makers. Everything from the crust to the cheese, the pizza sauce, homemade meatballs is made in-house. Unfortunately, getting a pizza isn’t always easy. They take forever to make (up to an hour). Sometimes, they don’t even pick up the phone to order one. This deep dish thickly crusted – like a casserole – is from heaven. Chewy, hint of heat in the sauce, pull until it snaps mozzarella…..trust me, Jesus made it.
Courtesy of ICDC
ICDC, Los Angeles, California: Salt & Pepper Caramel Doughnut/ Buttermilk Brown Butter ($2.50). ICDC, which stands for ice cream, donuts, and coffee, is a dream child of Amy Knoll Fraser and Pastry Chef Maria Swan. I don’t know Maria. I would love to know Maria. I would love Maria to make me a donut every day for the rest of my life. The Salt & Pepper Caramel along with the Buttermilk Brown Butter are heavenly puffs of circled dough with a little richness (butter or caramel) and a surprise (salt & pepper and not just butter but browned butter). If you have never had a seasoned donut or a browned butter donut – it’s wrong. Just wrong. It’s like being a virgin and everyone around you talking about sex.
Courtesy of Breakfast Club
The Breakfast Club, Scottsdale, Arizona: Huevos con Masa ($9). On our first trip to Phoenix, we got hungry as people do at the beginning of the day. We had appointments to look at houses and needed to fortify ourselves. We went to dine at place at 8 am. Twenty-minute wait. We left. Found another highly recommended eatery with a wait-time of twenty-minutes. Nick and I are starving, and it’s 9 am. On the third try, we arrive at Breakfast Club. They have a wait time too. We sit at the bar to avoid the wait time. It’s packed. Maybe 9:15 am on a Wednesday morning. I order the Huevos con Masa, a creative southwestern version of eggs benedict. Instead of hollandaise sauce, a pork green chile is served with poached eggs and chipotle cornbread. Eating it, I thought it was worth waiting for the discovery. The chile, a little heavier than I normally would eat for breakfast, is rich but compliments the poached eggs runny yolks. The cornbread has just enough heat and is incredibly moist, with flecks of chipotle. The Valley of the Sun breakfast experience also prompted me to write a story on the area’s breakfasts. (Note: If you like blonde, athletic women serving your food in skin-tight, black fitness wear, this is the place for you. Do not come if you want to see a brunette or red-head. Hell, I don’t think there was a curl in the place, either. Just sayin’.)
I’m a little late to my first post of 2015. I actually caught up a couple of weeks ago but now I’m slagging behind. Two posts per week was way too demanding so I brought it down to one per week. That’s 52 entries per year. Geez….it’s a damn publishing house.
My friends keep saying what a great idea it was to have a pizza party for the holidays. The idea, which incorporated 3 agendas: a housewarming, a birthday and a holiday, came across my mind because of a friend’s invitation to her 4th Annual Cookie exchange celebrating Hanukkah/ Christmas. As we know, even though you say to people you don’t need anything; inevitably and good-naturedly, guests will bring something. By having a themed event where it was around a particular food guests could ….bake, buy or have their food delivered….it allowed partygoers to participate inexpensively in your new found home, birthday and holidays.
I’ve decided that a party is a very hard thing to have as an adult. We want them to be fun and full of conversation but we don’t want them to be drunken revelries or a rehash of our youth. We want our friends and family to meet and enjoy each other but without the sex in our parents bedroom or additional alcoholic inappropriateness which we used to think was charming when living in the East Village at the age of 21(or at least I did). No drugs just fancy (and expensive) beers, wines and of course, a house drink. (In this case, Nick had his own “Cosmopolitan” recipe.) We want music but we don’t want it too loud so it drowns out the conversation and inevitably, no matter what you do, people still congregate in the kitchen or around the booze, even though the rest of the house is empty. There, of course, are the no-shows but then the tried and true stumble up the front porch, excited to be sharing your new life bringing, in this case, pizza.
And what pizza we had! I believe that the pies were arguably some of LA’s best joints such as Hollywood Pies (Chicago deep-dish), Prime Pizza, Stella Barra, Pizzeria Mozza, Mulberry Street, Wolfgang Puck, Big Mama’s Pizza, and Vicolo (a frozen cornmeal crust, made out of San Francisco and associated to the legendary Hayes Grill). A few of my culinary friends even made their pizza such as Mark, who made a “flammchuken” and Mary who made her own freshly made Arugula and Prosciutto Pizza with homemade dough. The pizza that we ate that night showcased some of the best food in the Los Angeles/West Hollywood/ Hollywood/ Pico-Robertson area. (Pasadena, Burbank, Glendale, The Valley….different areas, so don’t get your underwear in a bunch.) Each pizza was a standout.
Vicolo was a bit of a surprise when Donna pulled it out of a bag. It’s probably my favorite grocery store pizza. Living in San Francisco, I discovered Vicolo at my favorite grocery store, Falletti’s Foods on Broderick. It’s this buttery, cornmeal crust pizza found in a grocer’s aisle; not frozen but freshly shrink-wrapped. It has the honor to be associated to Patty Untermann, a former restaurant critic at the defunct San Francisco Examiner. (Untermann also owns the legendary Hayes Street Grill, a 35 year old Bay Area seafood icon , a great place to go before or after attending a concert at Davies Symphony Hall, a block away. )
My friend Shelley invited me to dinner with Kathy and Jeff when Stella Barra first opened. I got to meet the very young but accomplished Chef/ Owner Jeff Mahin, who talked to the table about his process of dough-making. Pizzeria Mozza, I attended the friends and family dinner and met Nancy a couple of times.
I could go on about my past experiences with some of these pizzas but it’s a new year and a new life. I now can look upon these gifts of food with new eyes and thoughts. Some people think of music with fond memories and food can bring up the same sense of personal history. If you’re in the Los Angeles area, you should stop and try at least one of these places.
Last night, I published a blog item. In it, I was profusely apologizing about my lack of posting for the past two weeks (to my two fans). Life became life and with dinners out, work (which sometimes is about going out), seeing friends, looking for new apartments with Holly (the pitbull), JJ (the Frenchie) and Nick (the Man from Wisconsin) so I wasn’t able to write until this weekend. Once I hit publish, it vanished. Right then and there. Poof. Twilight Zone-like. I talked to WordPress, “chatting” with “Pam” about where it could have possibly gone. (We both agreed that it went the way a pair of socks in the washer…). So, I have to recreate it which might be a good thing; right? Let’s take the lemons and make lemonade? Still, I hate re-dos.
And through all of this up-and-down, in-and-out, I find that I get a little anxious when I can’t eat or cook the way I want. Fresh, sustainable, local. For me, eating and being out is overwhelming at times. Admittedly, it’s a personal control issue. Hands down. Who doesn’t want to go out? Isn’t that what commercials ask of us? Let’s eat at Applebee’s, Chili’s, MickeyD’s? But I do it frequently and have eaten out often, eating with clients and enjoying their meals…all in the name of work. However, I really like being in my home and cooking. There is such safety and calmness in it. Some people turn to the bottle of wine, videogame or television, I look at recipes and try to cook. It’s inspirational and very meditative. I sometimes think that if I could, I would grow my vegetables, butcher my livestock and sow my own wheatfields just so I can get as close as I can to eating well. After all, eating well is the only thing I can control. Once, I step out my door, I feel that my life becomes an issue of circumstance.
With all that said, I have eaten some glorious sandwiches at my client Carvery Kitchen. Handmade and house-baked bread, succulent meats piled in innovative ways with dipping sauces. My favorite: Eating the freshly roasted pastrami in a French dip. Clean and lustily juicy.
Over this past weekend, I attended The Shelton Bros “The Festival” which was hosted at clients Brouwerij West. I’m not a beer geek but I’m learning a lot about the process of making beer. Sometimes, it a lot about engineering. There is a process to it. Winemakers let the liquid sit and ferment, creating delicious drinks. With beer, it’s a process of taking the grain and extracting the “wort” (sugar water) and turning it into lusty libation.
Many amazing things were said about the event from LA Weekly and The Los Angeles Times famed beer writer, John Verive. It was from these articles that I truly realized the importance of the craft beer movement. It’s not unlike the Slow Food Movement or artisan winemakers. Truly, craft beer making is an art form.
Besides Brouwerij West, there was a really interesting beer from Treehouse Brewing in Ohio. It’s called “Double Shot”; like the name implies, it’s made with coffee from Oregon’s Stumpton. It’s aroma was powerful with coffee and malt. Not a combination I would ever have thought I would smell together. Coffee and beer. It used to be “Black Coffee“.
Let’s begin with lovely Lulu’s gardening class before we get to Farmers Market Haul.
Shelley, Lauren, one of Lulu’s co-workers and Lauren’s husband, Chris, along with me, were students in Lulu’s backyard for her first-ever gardening class. Lu has been gardening since she was a child back in her homestate of Pennsylvania. It was always one of her aspirations to create an edible garden where she could cook and share her plantings. Since she purchased her home over 8 years ago in the PicFair District of Los Angeles, she has fashioned a dozen raised beds where many varieties of home-grown edibles have ripened to seasonal perfection. Being an urban/surburban kid and thinking for many years that vegetables came hidden in a supermarket’s underbelly, I’m massively awestruck by her cultivation of cantalopes and watermelons…. along with being supplied gifts from her seasonal harvests which have included lettuces (romaine, red leaf, and green leaf), tomatoes (some which she has used for canning and I used for sauces), cucumbers, artichokes, eggplant, basil, spaghetti squash, raspberries, blueberries, lemons, limes….and on and on. In each one of the approximate 2 1/2 feet by 6 feet areas, the soil has been tilled, rested and loved to reap some of the most deliciously edible gems I’ve had. There is nothing like direct farm to table to do a body good.
In this class, Lu’s immense knowledge was demonstrated when she dug up her compost turning out a dark, rich and thoroughly alive concoction with do-gooding worms (pictured). The class was a fully active hour and a half experience. For this city slicker, it still shows the difficulties of being a 21st century farmer. Farming is an arduous task. It’s about the right amount of water, sun and nutrients but I can absolutely see it’s rewards for the grower as I was rewarded cuttings from Lulu’s hardwork such as baby kale, zucchini, squash blossoms, and fresh mint.
All of this, on this Memorial Day weekend, brings me to Farmers Market Haul. Today, it was tiny Japanese bell peppers (Yakatori Farms), purple baby artichokes (SunCoast Farms), beautiful frisee, mizuna and baby chard (Windsor Farms), green Zebra Rita’s and baby spinach (McGrath Family Farms), small sweet Maui onions for grilling (Can’t remember the farm…), and rosemary (ABC Rhubarb).
(It was a small shopping excursion as I had the vegetables Lulu gave me from the class.)
I love the Hollywood Farmers Market. A weekly Sunday ritual like heading to church without the pie bake off at the end. It’s reminiscent of NYC’s Union Square Market. I prefer HFM before 11:00am, before my shins are black and blue from the strollers, wagons and pushcarts but still appreciate that families bring their kids to learn about food and its production. I love the urbanity of it: hipsters with their multiple canvas bags; the mid-thirty parents, who gave their nanny the day off, and are clutching too many children and too many vegetables; the single women holding onto lattes and the bottom of their maxi-dresses; the married gay men, leering over organic zucchini and the street musicians giving the market it’s soundtrack.
There’s no competition between farmers. One of the farmers didn’t have Bloomfield spinach, a fave lovely lettuce, and pointed me to another canvas stall ala “Miracle on 34th Street”/Macy’s vs. Gimble’s sort of way. I feel like this is the way life should be, simple, uncomplicated, free of CNN’s ticker tape, which is located around the corner.
One of the great things at HFM, I get to learn about my food and ask questions of the individual purveyors. I get to know them, they know me. They become a constant. I like that. It’s a small village atmosphere in a metropolitan city. The market is there to serve and keep me, in my mind, safe…that’s why I go. Its one of the few times in my week…when out of my car and out of my apartment… I feel sheltered and we are there to buy nourishment and feel nourished.
And…no matter what I think of war or our politicians, it’s people whom I’ve known such as the farmers who had many children go to war, who help feed the young men and women who have served our country….to both, I salute you.
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Along a strip of Melrose Avenue, just past La Brea is Franco on Melrose. It’s location is in the City of Angel’s culinary corridor featuring a few of the most lauded epicurean stops in the city including Providence, Mozza, Mud Hen Tavern and Trois Mec. To the south, one can wander to Republique or Odys + Penelope. It’s a hidden gem of an Italian eatery although a favorite among the celebrity set. However, the trattoria has been under the radar since its inception over four years ago. Why? Partially, says chef and owner Franco de Dominicis, “I didn’t have a beer and wine license. It was BYOB but now I do and things have changed.”
Proudly, de Dominicis makes all of his own pasta, ravioli, and lasagna. Many of the recipes are adapted recipes from his mother and childhood. He also sources as much as he can from the farmers markets throughout Los Angeles. It’s a true Los Angeles-based trattoria serving up Neapolitan fare without having to travel to Italy.
How long have you been cooking? Since I was 13.
Tupperware, Rubbermaid, or Pyrex? Rubbermaid.
Favorite types of cuisine to cook? Italian, French, Caribbean,
