Steel Reality

March 8, 2013

The Crema Cafe – Crème de la Crème

Arrive early to avoid the line.

Benny saying hello. Isn’t he adorable?

Before I tell you about the food’s flavors and the staff’s professionalism and the café’s charm, let me tell you about Benny. Benny has been waddling into the café every Sunday for the past six years, he has been taking his place of honor beneath an outdoor table and under a red umbrella, and he has been waiting patiently for delicious scraps to come his way. Okay, Benny waits not so patiently: he is not above a bit of begging or a little whimpering, like a neglected soul, for one succulent morsel. Let me be clear – Benny is not neglected. The six year old pudgy pug is a well-fed gourmand. And, in my humble opinion, Benny’s favoritism for The Crema Cafe is spot-on. (His discerning taste could be due to his lineage: his grandsire is the none other than Tugboat Willie, the first and only pug thus far to win Pug Dog Club of America’s National Specialities three times.)

On my first trip to The Crema Cafe, as on my second, the place was packed inside and out. Though I had perused the menu online, the options left me wanting one of everything so I turned to the cashier/barista/waiter for help. I only have one meal, I told him. What do you recommend? He suggested the Breakfast crepe because of its uniqueness (scrambled eggs inside) and yummy goodness (with cheese, chorizo, avocado, sour cream). When I was leaning toward the fresh fruit as a side, he shepherded me towards the roasted potatoes. He was correct in doing so – the potatoes were crisp and spicy, middle-hot and flavor-layered, and the crepe crisp and perfectly fixed – just the right amount of each ingredient so that every fork full was a blend of each flavor. I would have devoured it all except I wanted to try a sweet Simple crepe for dessert – cinnamon and

Simple crepe with caramel sauce that might make you wish you had some privacy.

sugar drizzled with homemade caramel and a side of fresh whipped cream with a beautiful ripe strawberry for decor. None of this went to waste. On my way out, I picked up a chocolate croissant and a baguette for the five hour drive home. Both were divine, though the croissant was not quite as good as the one back home; however, the baguette tasted like one I bought my first time in Paris – only this time I had no Toblerone bar to melt between it on the train to Calais.

To taste The Crema Cafe this time, I organized my trip so I could enjoy an early Sunday morning breakfast. The Sunday regulars (Benny and company among them) give the café a welcoming atmosphere and, with the exception of this solitary writer, the tables were buzzing with laughter and talk – signs of good food. Patrons lingered over their meals, enjoying another cup of coffee from the self-serve carafes, or talking for a bit with passing friends. Their canine companions lounged about the outdoor tables, greeting canine and humans alike with a smile or tail wag.

Gas heaters and red umbrellas make this outdoor space warm and welcoming.

Seating is indoors and out, and when the mornings are chilly, free-standing heaters dot the patio to ward off the crisp air. My server this Sunday morning was Jennifer. Attentive and conscientious, she smiled the entire time, whether she brought meals or bussed tables or simply walked back inside for the next order up.

Wanting to try something different, my breakfast was a spinach and mushroom and cheese crepe. Though good, it lacked in comparison to the Breakfast crepe. Its

Spinach Mushroom Crepe with a side of fruit.

edges contrasted well with the perfectly browned middle; however, the filling did not retain its heat, and by the time I was a third of the way through, the crepe had cooled. I also made the error of ordering the fruit in an attempt to have at least one healthy item on my plate. Next time I will throw health to the wind and order the roasted potatoes or the Belgian Waffle with whipped cream or the Buttermilk Pancake or the Roasted Vegetable Benedict smothered in hollandaise – and, of course, a sweet crepe for dessert – maybe the Caramelized Apple & Pear à la mode. Of course, I had to try a sweet crepe for dessert, and, of course, I opted for the one carrying the café’s name, the Crema Crepe. This one’s every bite delighted. Shamelessly, I combined the caramel and the whipped cream to create my own bit of heaven. While I was savoring the deliciousness, stacks of waffles floated out of the kitchen only to be inhaled by waiting diners. In fact, all food that came form the kitchen disappeared and plates were left too clean for Benny to find any scrap to lick.

Should you be in Seal Beach for a day, or passing by on your way to somewhere else, take a moment to turn down Main Street and have a delicious meal at Benny’s favorite spot, the Crema Cafe.

1 Comment | tags: cafes, CremaCafe, long beach, seal beach | posted in Everyday Eateries, Long Beach, CA

March 1, 2013

A Slice of NY Heaven Hidden in Sin City

By A. Gardner

From the register – a view of where the magic happens.

The first I heard of this thin sliced oasis in the middle of a corporate pizza wonderland was when my friend Rocket, a Brooklyn native, called and said, “Amanda, you’ve got to try this pizza. I swear, it’s a taste of Brooklyn.” She didn’t have to tell me twice, and since she did call, it’s the only spot I go to to curb my pizza cravings even though it’s in one of the hippest (read “busiest”) resorts on The Strip.

So where is it? What’s it called? It has no name. It’s on the third floor of the Cosmopolitan Hotel and Casino, to the left of Jaleo’s and to the right of the Japanese restaurant. If you’re driving, park at the East elevators and disembark on the third floor; if you get off at the casino level, take the escalators to the third floor and look left. There’s what looks like an alley, but reveals itself, as you get closer, as a corridor covered with albums. Walk down the corridor. At the end you will find pizza nirvana.

At the counter – oh, the delectable choices.

Pizza nirvana begins with several thin crust pies waiting to be purchased, styled, and finished in the oven. Your typical base pie will be cheese, pepperoni or sausage (yummy), and mushroom. From there, you can go wild – sun dried tomatoes, ricotta, banana peppers, sautéd onions, and garlic sauce top are added to the usual mushrooms, olives, bell peppers, pepperoni and sausage.

My favorite? Mushroom with ricotta, sun dried tomatoes, onions, banana and bell peppers, and garlic sauce. For variety, I’ll add sausage. If they charge me for a combination slice, the whole meal is just under six bucks with tip. Want a whole pie?

My favorite slice – so good it almost didn’t make the picture.

They make those too. Oh, and did I mention that the crust is hand-tossed? The only sounds coming from the customers are pure satisfaction.

If you’d like a drink – soda or beer or wine is to be had. The seating counters are limited in the space, but there is plenty of seating outside in the floor’s two lounge areas: one replete with a pool table if you’d like to try your hand. If you prefer video games, while waiting for your slice, you can partake in Galaxy or try pinball for entertainment. My favorite entertainment on The Strip, however, is people watching and this place has it in spades. They also have two televisions tucked in the corners playing sports if that’s more your style. Whatever your taste, if you happen to get a taste for pizza while in town, this is the place to go. But keep it to yourself since it is one of The Strip’s best kept secrets.

Tourist watching / Tourists watching.

Leave a comment | tags: food, Las Vegas, Pizza, The Cosmopolitan, The Strip | posted in Everyday Eateries, Off-Strip, The Strip

February 24, 2013

Ramsay’s Pub & Grill: The Disappointing British Invasion

By A. Gardner

A bit of Britain in Caesar’s Palace.

When Gordon Ramsay opened his more moderately priced venue, Ramsay’s Pub and Grill, in Caesar’s Palace in December, it was as though Santa Clause had brought Christmas Eve early. Who doesn’t love the rake of the range, the shepherd of shepherd pie, the Hotspur of Hell’s Kitchen? I adore his chutspa, as my grandma would say, and was over-the-moon when his steak house opened at the Paris, but could not bring myself to walk past the phallic sign and into the womb of the restaurant; however, his Pub & Grill provided no impediment – the

Brilliant! Bully! Bloody bully brilliant!

The logo is brilliant and bully and bloody bully brilliant.

row of beer kegs dividing the dining room from the bar, the couches and comfy chairs inviting beer sipping and intimate conversations, the mural of a bulldog in British colors by the bar and Gordon Ramsay’s portrait watching over all from the back. Overall, a beautiful and inviting venue.

My first experience was brilliant. Three days after they opened, I dined with a friend and the service and food was exceptional. It was so good that I brought another friend for dinner ten days later and had the worst dining experience of my gastronomical career.

I could detail the twenty-five minute wait for water and our waiter, the rudeness of his demeanor, the need to ask for bread after being seated for thirty-five minutes and his reply as he walked away “Maybe I can get something from dinner service,” the twenty-five minute wait for the fried oysters that were a bit too oily followed by the sliders that were a bit too bland – more . While other guests were being treated to a divine experience by their waiters, those being tended by our waiter were treated to being treated as an imposition rather than a guest whose experience will not only determine the reputation of the restaurant, but the size of his tip. Even after the assistant manager became aware of our plight, our waiter’s performance did not improve; indeed, it got worse as he complained to my companion about me and stated to her that we should all “just chill out – it’s only food.” What he does not get is that it is not only food, it is his profession, it is his guests’ culinary experience, it is Gordon Ramsay’s reputation. The entire experience was so horrid that the only way I would return was if I did not have to pay for the displeasure.

When we returned, the same waiter literally ran into us at the bar. That he was still employed shocked me and, quite frankly, spoke volumes of the management team’s judgement and gave me second thoughts about staying. However, stay we did, during a Thursday dinner service, and were seated at a high table next to the bar, directly in the path of the kitchen traffic. This wait staff was expert enough to avoid bumping either us or the table. This time the oysters were less greasy, the duck was dry but

The Scuffle: Guinness infused foam over pure intoxication. At $15 a bit pricey, but unique.

the fries crispy, but the drink, the Scuffle, was divine, but not worth the $15. Moreover, a dish that the British should do well, Fish & Chips, was disappointing this second time around. The fillet’s were smaller than on the first visit, and their batter a bit more oily; the chips were oddly shaped strips trying to be rectangles; the mushy peas cold and frightened on the side of the plate. Though the fillets were both flakey and divine, the breading detracted rather than enhanced its taste; the chips are so thick that they retain the heat so that when you bite it, the outside is cold, but the inside flesh still burns the tongue. If they want the geometric appearance to contrast with the mushy peas, perhaps cubes would be better – still pleasing to the eye and able to deliver more of the herb dusting with each bite. The dessert, the Sticky Toffee Pudding, was worth the visit.

In all fairness, we opted to try it one more time, during their lunch service. We arrived around three o’clock and found ourselves placed in the front section on the far edge of the floor, near the open casino, behind a billboard, and near the server’s station. Unfortunately, being so near the servers did not help our server redeem the Gordon Ramsay name. Instead, with only two other tables to attend, he took twenty minutes to greet us with water and menus. While waiting we noticed the spots on our water glasses and the food particles stuck to my glass. We also noted that the table behind us received their order, delivered by the runner with a “Here it is, the new and improved version,” and the table to the left of us exclaimed, “Finally!” when the runner brought them theirs; neither table looked pleased and left as soon as their food was consumed. When our appetizer came, the Scotch Egg, the runner asked if we had ordered it hard boiled, to which replied we did not, but we were going to eat it anyway because we were hungry. (It had been a thirty minute wait for food.) The egg was cold, the sauce was cold, the plate presented

Scotch egg on a trencher – sans serving spoons.

with no serving ware and without instructions on how to eat such a dish. At this, our third experience at Gordon Ramsay’s Pub and Grill matching our first in terms of horrific service and poor food quality, I turned to my companion and suggested we lunch around the corner at Max Brenner’s instead. She went ahead to order us drinks and secure a table while I spoke with the new floor manager. It is the first time I’ve walked out of a restaurant and I hope it will be my last.

I cannot recommend you visit the establishment at this time. If you’re dying to have a celebrity chef experience and want one at Caesar’s Palace, then spend your money at Bobby Flay’s Mesa Grill or, if you want a really good meal, and Italian is more your style, take the curving escalators up to the third floor of the Caesar Forum Shoppes and try Il Mulino. If it’s Gordon Ramsay’s name you’re after, avoid his Pub & Grill and try his Steakhouse across the street in the Paris – my cousin and her husband had a fabulous meal there though I’ve yet to try. But, be warned, if this one is any indication of the hospitality and fare served at Gordon Ramsay’s namesakes, I’d spend your money at Wolfgang Puck’s in the MGM or even at Le Thai down on 6th and Freemont.

☙❧ ☙❧ ☙❧ ☙❧ ☙❧

Epilogue: Saturday Lunch Service

Wanting to give every opportunity to the establishment that carries such a famous name, I persuaded my friend to return with me today. She ordered the Scuffle (my bribe to her for returning with me), I attempted to order a Snakebite (half lager and half cider), and we split a Shepherd’s pie. This time the service was what was expected, until the bill arrived. From our waiter placing the check to him returning having run our card, over thirteen minutes elapsed, the same amount of time it took us to taste the entree and for her to finish her drink. My drink arrived as the beer instead of the traditional pub brew even though when I ordered I asked if I they could make one. I would have sent the tinny tasting beer back for replacement, but our waiter did not stay long enough while dropping it off to take a breath nor did he return to see how things were until over ten minutes later when the luke-warm pie arrived. Perhaps it was the fact that the beef was shredded and sliced and chunked that made it unevenly heated, perhaps it was the finely diced carrots and completely shelled peas that tasted like frozen instead of fresh, perhaps it was too thin a gravy with too thin of seasoning — whatever it was, I do not know. What I do know is that it took over thirty minutes for a runner to clean the dirty table next to us and that when he did he simply pushed the mound of crumbs onto the casino carpet instead of placing the crumbs in the trash. I also know that my water glass was dirty for the second visit in a row, and that, unfortunately, I have had my fill of Gordon Ramsay’s Pub & Grill.

Just in case you’d like a look at the Fish & Chips, a staple in any pub worth its weight in pints, two different plates on the same visit follow: