Linda Burum is tripping out over King’s Burgers/Got Sushi?, a combination burger hut/sushi spot in Northridge. She loves the creatively topped nigiri (shaved truffles, black caviar) made by a Katana alum, as well as the classic diner atmosphere (though we wonder if one opts for chef Jun Y. Cha’s $60 omakase or dipping into an a la carte pork steak in eel bone broth, Burum feels that “without the glitz of Hollywood or the restraints of a corporate umbrella, Cha can let his imagination run wild. And he does.” She even compares his soft-cooked egg to the ones you’d find at Momofuku. [LAT]
Jonathan Gold’s got a new thing called “Seconds” and spends his precious time going back to Gjelina, where he hits the mark that many a female patron goes gaga over dudes we’d like to enforce bathing/shaving requirements on. Before launching into colorful dish descriptions, he takes a swipe at the Westside, confusing the chic-bots who flood Gjelina with the rest of us just trying to live our lives. Failing to sensibly conclude the set-up, he begins, “If she has her yogini on speed dial (and let’s face it, almost everyone in this part of town does)…” Sorry sir, but not on our 90291 block! [LAW]
Jonathan Gold reviews Beijing Pie House, where the specialty is xian bing, “dough disks about the size and weight of a shuffleboard puck, tawny brown, slightly domed, mottled on the surface with a pebbly pattern that resembles Chinese characters from across the room, but up close looks more like Braille.” None of the patrons have yoginis on speed dial, but one pushy old lady still sounds like a major dick. [LAW]
Though our Uzbek correspondent tells us that all she ate was vermicelli back in the old country, a reader is hankering for Uzbek lagman noodles. Mr. Gold is also dreaming of a new and improved Uzbek scene in L.A., but points the way back to Omar’s Xinxiang Halal in the meantime, where the laiman noodles, different from lagman mostly by semantics, will have to do. [LAW]
J. Gold hilariously compares the restrictions and rules of the Vera Pizza Napoletana with the severity of the Taliban. While the other Italian dishes here are “lousy” and Gold makes sure to remind us that Settebello is an Italian condom brand (does this sort of make it like the Claim Jumper of Italian restaurants, by the transitive property or something?), he waxes on the pizza and makes it sounds pretty good: “heated to nearly 1,000 degrees, comes an almost infinite succession of hand-thrown pies, stretchy but paper-thin, freckled with charred spots, glistening with minimal applications of tomato sauce, basil and cheese; sausage, fennel and cream; or mushrooms, pancetta and toasty pine nuts — crisped off in about 90 seconds in the incredible heat.” [LAW]
