Off the Map: The Wheels on the Bus Go Drink, Drink, Drink

Pasta Mama -- Hugo's, Los Angeles, CA

Hugo's

There are few things classier than using a hop-on, hop-off double-decker tour bus to fulfill one's Los Angeles restaurant reservations.  

Oh No, We're Not From Here -- How Could You Tell?

Without the use of a car, we had decided months ago to utilize the bus's route to help us get from one side of town to the other in order to save a few dollars on Uber.  Unfortunately for us, asking the bus drivers for door-to-door service doesn't really seem to be an option, which is how we find ourselves trudging up the sidewalks of West Hollywood in order to get to Hugo's to taste Susan Feniger's Best Thing I Ever Ate WAKE UP CALL dish, the pasta mama.

Dear StarLine Tours, We Have a New Route for You to Try

Despite the fact that Susan recommends eating the dish for breakfast, we wander into the place in the late afternoon (after all, we feel we've consumed enough breakfasts today to last us a lifetime).  At this point, Vodka's phone is on the brink of death (as opposed to the actual death it will experience on the streets of Santa Monica the next day, but that's another tale), and after we check in, she asks the hostess if it would be possible to be seated near an outlet in order to charge it.

To which Vodka receives a resounding, "No."

Clearly, the Hostess Doesn't Read This Blog, or Else She'd Know How Rapidly "Can I See the Manager?" Flies Out of Vodka's Mouth

Never one to take rejection well, the second our waiter appears at our table, Vodka accosts him with the same question.  Being that he is the kindest person on the planet, he volunteers to take Vodka's phone and charger and plug it in at the waiters' station, out of sight of the nasty hostess (who it becomes clear early on that everyone in the restaurant is afraid of.  So much for our "People in LA are excessively nice" theory).  

So Hardy Har Har, Ms. Hostess

In the meantime, once our new BFF, the waiter, tells us that Hugo's happy hour is currently offering all cocktails for $5, we are overwhelmed with glee.  Vodka orders a cucumber martini, and Ginger a margarita, which cause us to be so pleased with our lives that we each soon order another.

The Drunk Version of Cookies and Milk

In the middle of our bargain drinking, our bowl of pasta mama arrives, which, from what we remember, is spaghetti noodles with eggs, garlic, parsley, and parmesan cheese.  

Good Luck Following That Descriptive Recipe We've Provided

Almost immediately, Ginger, still sporting a hive on her cheek, decides to proclaim, "I think I may have an egg allergy."  This latest theory does not prevent her from diving into the bowl, which, almost immediately, Vodka decides to douse with salt.  

At This Point, Ginger Is Surprised Vodka Doesn't Carry a Flask of Salt in Her Purse

Overall, the pasta is tasty enough, if slightly chunky in texture due to the scrambled eggs.  

Yes, Hugo's, Could You Please Blend This for Us?

We could see how it could be pleasing in the early morning hours, especially since everywhere else in town seems insistent on only serving waffles.  

Nothing Like Some Good Carb-Loading First Thing in the Morning

And while we would certainly return to Hugo's for the $5 cocktails and sweet-as-pie waitstaff, the pasta itself would not be enough to lure us back.    

And Certainly Not Their Lack of Usable Electrical Outlets

As we prepare to leave, we watch a woman in a full down coat strut into the restaurant, despite the 65-degree temperature outside.  And we can only assume that she, unlike us, did not arrive here on a double-decker tour bus.

Hugo's Pasta Mama: 3 stars

Off the Map: Four Waffles a Day Keep the Hives Away

Red Velvet Waffle -- The Waffle, Los Angeles, CA

The Waffle

There is nothing like leaving one waffle establishment, only to cart your leftovers down Sunset Boulevard to a second waffle place.  Indeed, if we have learned anything thus far about Los Angeles, it is that its residents do not seem to be much for a savory breakfast item, as before noon, we have already consumed pancakes, a regular waffle, and now, the red velvet waffle which Susan Feniger spoke of on the BETTER THAN MINE episode of Best Thing I Ever Ate.

So Many Waffles, So Little Time

Truth be told, we walk into The Waffle less excited about the dish we're about to consume than we are about the chalkboard sign hanging above our heads which boasts about their "double mimosas."  

Things Are Looking Up!

Vodka hightails it to the bathroom, which leaves Ginger with the (apparently) highly difficult job of ordering.  After our last mistaken waffle debacle, she is extremely paranoid about making the same mistake, so with Vodka still missing, she decides that she is going to order all of the food for herself and inform the waitress, "The other one is just going to have a double mimosa."

Of All the Sights One Can Find in Hollywood, We're Fairly Certain We're Two of the Strangest

Within minutes, we are joyful at the arrival of our mason jars of goodness, practically slopping over the edges with orange juice and not a small serving of champagne.  Our moods improve instantly, and while we wait for the arrival of our fourth meal of the day, Ginger recounts the time she spent as a child at the Ho Hum Ranch.  "I got herded into the pasture with some llamas," she states without affect, causing Vodka to decide that at times like this, even after ten years of friendships, she doesn't really know Ginger at all.

You Hand Us a Couple of Mimosas, and the Conversation Suddenly Turns to Llamas

It is in the middle of this stimulating discussion that our plate of waffles appears before us.  Two thick red waffles sit stacked at an angle against each other, with hearty helpings of cream cheese frosting oozing down their centers.  Ginger scoops a bit of frosting (her recent fear of dairy clearly forgotten) onto her fork and picks at the waffle until a corner falls off.  Within one chew, she proclaims, "Fact: This may just be the best thing I ever ate."

We're So Easy to Please Once You Get a Little Booze in Us

The waffle is quite scrumptious: crispy yet still chewy, with a good flavor and an even better topping (to be fair, we have never met a cream cheese frosting we haven't liked).  Halfway through its consumption, Ginger starts rustling in her handbag, announcing, "I'm going to take GasX," and whether this is the highest compliment or greatest criticism The Waffle has ever received is up to interpretation.  

Feel Free, The Waffle, to Steal This for Your Next Marketing Campaign: Worth the GasX

In the end, Ginger is much more taken with the red velvet waffle than Vodka is, presumably because she likes all things sweet and Vodka hardly likes anything that doesn't come with a shaker of salt.  In a compromise of taste, we're giving the waffle four stars, since Ginger would eat it again in an instant, and Vodka doesn't understand what type of "meal" it could actually be appropriate for.

The Remnants of a Waffle Slaughter

Of course, what could have helped Ginger's perception of said waffle is the second round of double mimosas which have just been placed in front of us, bringing our mood to an all-time LA high.  

Hey, We've Had to Eat Four Waffles Today. It's Only Fair That We Get Four Drinks, Too

And even though by the end of the meal, Ginger has began breaking out in hives, it doesn't dampen our tipsy energy.

New Form of Allergy Relief

"I mean, there's definitely something wrong with me," Ginger says nonchalantly as we exit the premises, box of GasX in hand and hive on her face.  But nothing, it seems, that a few double mimosas can't fix.

The Waffle's Red Velvet Waffle: 4 stars

Off the Map: The Accidental Waffle

Chicken and Waffles -- Roscoe's House of Chicken and Waffles, Los Angeles, CA
Roscoe's House of Chicken and Waffles

Only three stops into our food tour of Los Angeles, and we are growing delirious.  Some may blame the jetlag.  Some may blame the fact that we haven't been bowled over by any of the Best Thing I Ever Ate dishes yet.  But we would blame the fact that we are in desperate need of a cocktail.

Come Out, Come Out, Wherever You Are

After our excursion for tacos, Vodka checks the double-decker tour bus app and discovers that the bus we had planned to ride in the direction of our next eating location is less than two minutes away.  The problems with this are a) if we miss this bus, the next one won't arrive for another 45 minutes, b) we're not exactly sure where the bus stop is, and c) however we slice it, we're going to be required to run.

Doesn't Everyone Arrive at 5-Star Restaurants on Sightseeing Buses?

We take off "running" (LA's abundance of personal trainers would almost certainly not consider our trot "running") in the direction we think the tour bus will be, and sure enough, a double-decker monstrosity is straight ahead.  At this time, we break into a full-on "sprint" (again, the categorization of our speed is subjective) and throw ourselves onto the bus just as the driver opens the door.  

Where, save for the driver, the bus is completely empty.

No Problem -- Might You Know Where We Could Find a Bar?

Said driver informs us that the actual bus stop, for the actual bus, is somewhere "across the street" (communication issues prevent us from understanding exactly what bus, what street, and what stop he is referring to).  Our impatience results in a decision to throw money at the problem and instead to flag down one of our trusty Uber drivers, who carts us to Roscoe's House of Chicken and Waffles, home of Duff Goldman's Best Thing I Ever Ate COMBOS dish, the chicken and waffle.

All Restaurants Should Hang This Warning When We Come to Town

When we stumble out of the bright sunshine (Vodka would say TOO bright of sunshine) into the relatively dark interior of Roscoe's, we immediately feel as though we have entered some sort of alternate universe.  We are ushered to a table by the very jovial host (again with the people in LA being disarmingly nice), and we are at once disheartened to find that the only drinks available on the menu are beer (which we despise) and "house wine," a term which has proven in the past to be our heads' personal nemesis.  

House Wine = Hangovers R Us

As the clock clicks disturbingly close to noon, we resign ourselves to yet another sober meal as we place an order for a single platter of chicken and waffles.

It bears repeating that we ordered ONE platter of chicken and waffles.  Or so we thought.

Within minutes, plates of the infamous combo are placed in front of both of us.  

We Really Need to Stop Using the Royal We

Now, if still in New York, there is a solid chance that we would have fought this circumstance.  That we would have chased down our waiter and insisted that he take away the accidental waffle, both from our table, and perhaps more importantly, from our check.  

Mister, Do You Know How Many Meals We Have Left to Eat Today?!

But in less than a half day, LA seems to have mellowed us.  It's the problem, we decide, when everyone is so bloody NICE to us -- we then feel bad going at them in our usual guns-blazing fashion.  And so, we reluctantly begin making our way through our separate plates of chicken and waffles.  

Leggo My Eggo, This Is Not

After all, we do love a salty/sweet pairing, so perhaps we'll be grateful that we each have our own portion, and for once, do not have to share....

Yeah, not so much.

The Perfect Bite?

The fried chicken portion of Roscoe's offering is really quite good.  Crispy on the outside and moist and juicy on the inside, it is even preferred to some of the Best Thing I Ever Ate FRIED CHICKEN dishes we've tasted in the past.  

You Know What Would Go Well With This Chicken? ALCOHOL

The waffle, however, doesn't have much in the way of flavor, and after a solid helping of real Vermont maple syrup earlier at BLD, the grocery store version available here just doesn't seem to cut it.  Vodka ends up eating the chicken on its own, while Ginger mostly winds up consuming the butter.

Happy Cholesterol Check to You, Too

After acquiring some to-go boxes, we dump the remainder of our plates inside, assuming that they will last all of a block before we get tired of carrying them. 

Now, Doesn't That Look Appetizing?

In the end, it turns out the leftovers prove to be quite useful later in the day while stuck in traffic on top of one of the infamous double-decker buses. 

"And On Your Left, You'll Find Two Girls Gnawing on a Chicken Bone..."

Which we suppose proves that you never know when an accidental waffle just might come in handy.  

Roscoe's House of Chicken and Waffles's Chicken and Waffles: 3 stars

Off the Map: Trading Personal Trainers for Personal Tacos

Chicken Mole -- Loteria Grill, Los Angeles, CA

Loteria Grill

Within feet of beginning our trek across Los Angeles, it becomes abundantly clear that we don't belong here.  Not only are we the only doofuses actually deigning to use our own feet to get from one location to the other, but we also pass a bevy of people in the "park" (we use the term loosely -- Central Park, this is not) working out with their personal trainers.

Aka, our version of hell.

We Prefer to Work Out in the Safety of Our Homes, Where No One Can See Us NOT Working Out

After stumbling through the Grove and into the historic Farmer's Market, we go in search of Loteria Grill, home of Duff Goldman's favorite CHOCOLATE dish, the chicken mole.  

With Nary a Farmer to be Found

Truth be told, we don't really like mole, but we do like anything ending with the word "taco," so we're willing to take the plunge.

Such Martyrs We Are

Once our plate of tacos arrives, we dive into them as if we hadn't just consumed two pancakes the size of our heads.  The shredded chicken within these tortillas is doused heavily with the mole sauce, but not so much that it runs down our wrists (preferred, as the MESSY episode of Best Thing I Ever Ate is one of our least favorites).  

Thank You For Not Requiring a Wet-Nap

And while there is nothing wrong, per se, with these tacos, they're also not all that interesting.  The mole itself tastes rather bland, with barely a hint of salt and not even a trace of spice.  

Perhaps Loteria Could Take Some Tips from Taco Bell

It's not that it's an offensive taco, but it's certainly not a memorable one.  Especially considering that overall, the tortilla is our favorite part, and that's really not the point of Duff's choice at all.

When Is Tequila O'Clock?

And then, of course, there is the fact that the whole endeavor would have gone down better with a margarita in hand.  Is it noon somewhere yet?

Loteria Grill's Chicken Mole: 3 stars

Off the Map: Back and Not Quite Better Than Ever

Ricotta Blueberry Pancakes -- BLD, Los Angeles, CA

BLD

To say we've been a little lax on the Best Thing I Ever Ate front lately would be an understatement.  In fact, it was not until perusing our own blog (granted, probably the most traffic the site has gotten in ages) that we realized that it has been nearly a year and a half since we last put the Food Network stars to the test regarding the foods they have deemed to be the best.

Absence Makes the Heart Grow Drunker

In our defense, the program itself stopped producing episodes years ago, so forgive us for going similarly defunct.

The Day We Run Out of Places to Eat Will Be a Tragic One for America

However, now, unlike the show itself, we are back and not quite better than ever.  Having plowed through nearly everything on the Manhattan food list, we have whisked ourselves off to Los Angeles, CA, to taste as many of the dishes in the second-most-prevalent BTIEA city as possible.

You Can Find Our Handprints Fossilized in a Local Bar

In our time away, Ginger has acquired a lick of digestive issues, which have been blamed on everything to shrimp (which she has given up) to dairy (which she sometimes gives up) to wine (which she will never, ever give up).  These bouts of uncomfortableness have left her with a rampant paranoia about what she places in her mouth, if (thankfully) not an actual refusal to eat anything.  

With Age Does NOT Come Wisdom

Speaking of stupidity, among our many reasons for taking years to venture to Los Angeles is our absolute refusal (some would say "inability") to drive.  We are thus being hauled around the city by a rotating cast of Uber and Lyft drivers, all given with the unfortunate task of putting up with us.  

Terror in Four-Lane Highway Form

After a brief sojourn to Disneyland, the first stop on our tour of LA finds us at BLD, home of Aida Mollenkamp's preferred Best Thing I Ever Ate WAKE UP CALL dish, the ricotta blueberry pancakes.

No Pressure, LA, But We're a Highly Judgmental Species

It is at this locale that we discover our first surprise about LA: the people are disarmingly nice.  We are greeted by a pleasant gentlemen who is not only the host, but also appears to be the waiter, bartender, busboy, and most likely our future Uber driver as well.  We assume we are going to be scoffed at when we ask for a single order of the desired pancakes, but he doesn't so much as raise an eyebrow at the fact that we're not, at the very least, even ordering a side dish.  

Have We Found a Land Where Frugality Is Appreciated?

Instead, he fetches two smaller plates so we can properly divide the pancakes between us, along with our coffee (Vodka) and latte (Ginger -- made with almond mild, due to the aforementioned dairy issues).

Whoever Thought Ginger Would Turn Out to be the More High-Maintenance of the Two of Us?

A few minutes later, two of the largest pancakes we've ever seen appear before us, with a small tub of butter and a vat of real Vermont maple syrup beside them.  While Ginger is instantly impressed with the fact that they're serving "real" maple syrup alongside their pancakes, Vodka is unclear of the difference.  ("Aunt Jemima's is corn syrup."  "And what's this?"  "...Maple.")

Why Vodka Would Never Survive in the Wilderness

We stab into the sides of the cakes, hauling slices onto our respective plates and dousing them with the appropriately soft butter and hot syrup.  Ginger tastes first, and when Vodka asks for an assessment, she answers simply, "It's a good pancake."

And this, ladies and gentlemen, is why we shall never write food reviews for the New York Times.

Also Our Inability to Effectively Cut a Pancake

The pancakes are in fact quite tasty -- fluffy and soft, they are less sweet than many we have tasted, with only the scattered blueberries serving as a burst of sugar (along with, of course, the maple syrup).  In truth, we probably would have been well-off ordering a side of bacon, since the dish seems to call for a touch of salt on the side, but overall, we have no complaints about the pancakes themselves.   Other than the fact that we find them a tad on the large side (even between the two of us, we aren't capable of finishing the dish, and heaven knows we don't exactly eat like birds), we would certainly recommend them to anyone who generally enjoys a less savory breakfast.

Honey I Shrunk the Plate

And with that, we are back on the sidewalks of LA doing the unthinkable: walking to our next location, despite the otherwise barren sidewalks.  After all, you know what they say about taking the girls out of New York....  

BLD's Ricotta Blueberry Pancakes: 4 stars