During a family trip to Spain, my daughter developed an obsession with paella. She was captivated as well with sandwiches of jamón serrano on bocadillo bread, served at a chain wonderfully called Museo del Jamón. But that was her lunchtime obsession. Paella was her dinner obsession. And she obsessed very well.
During five nights in Madrid, we went to five different restaurants famed for their paella. During five nights in Barcelona, we had another five paellas. Or, at least, she did; by that time, my wife and I had moved on to zarzuela and fideo and any number of other dishes.
Her love of paella – a dish named for the pan in which it’s served – has continued, and perhaps even thrived. And as is true of so many of our favorite dishes, paella has roots deep in history – in this case, in the history of the Iberian Peninsula.
That’s where it dates back to the 10th century, when the Moors of Spain began cultivating rice. By the 15th century, it had become such a staple that it was the standard lunchtime meal for farm laborers, cooked in great pans over open fires, flavored with herbs and spices, with added ingredients like tomatoes and onions, saffron the pepper, rabbit and duck, and, closer to the ocean, seafood. Lots of seafood.
Paella is just one of many foods from the sea honored with special days in March – this may be the most aquatic month of the year. Along with National Peanut Butter Day, National Cheese Doodle Day and National Meatball Day, we’ve got National Crabmeat Day, National Baked Scallop Day, National Lobster Newburg Day, National Clams on the Halfshell Day – and, on March 27, National Paella Day.
And, yes, I know that paella doesn’t have to include seafood to be paella; it’s named for the flat metal pan with two handles in which it’s cooked. But for me, at least, seafood makes paella so much more of a meal. And anyway, any excuse for gobbling an abundance of shrimp, crab, scallops, lobster, cod and what have you is much appreciated. I’ve become a full-fledged, card-carrying pescatarian in my old age.
That said, I do have to add that the history of Spanish restaurants here in SoCal is not pretty. Many have come, and many have gone – La Masia and Toledo on the Westside, Tasca in Hollywood, Cava near the Beverly Center, La Paella on San Vicente, Taberna Arros and Bar Pintxo in Santa Monica, along with Racion in Pasadena.
And yet, there is Spanish cooking to be found in SoCal. Decidedly not enough when you consider that we share a climate with Spain, along with a passion for small dishes (tapas!) and seafood. And though our local Spanish – mostly from Mexico, Central and South America – isn’t exactly the same, it’s close enough for us to share a language as well.
And, I should add, we certainly do love one-pot cooking. Paella is ultimately a casserole, one of the greatest casseroles in the history of global cuisine. It’s a close cousin of zarzuela and bouillabaisse, and a distant relative of macaroni and cheese.
I didn’t grow up eating paella. But every time I dig into one, I get a feeling that it could have been, should have been, a food of my childhood. It’s filled with history in every bite. And such soul-satisfying goodness as well.
Versailles Cuban Food
17410 Ventura Blvd., Encino; 818-906-0756, www.versaillescuban.com
It actually takes an act of will, a serious bit of mental effort, to keep from ordering the Famous Garlic Chicken at Versailles. This is far from a one-dish restaurant, like Lawry’s The Prime Rib (which actually does have other things on the menu, but no one ever orders them).
The menu at Versailles is sizable, and appealing – a compendium of the tastiest dishes in the Cuban cookbook. And yet, and yet, the Famoso Pollo Versailles is hard to resist, perhaps even impossible. And so, it’s what I order. Each and every time, without fail.
I like it so much that when Versailles started carrying bottles of their All Natural Cholesterol Free Authentic Cuban Mojo Garlic Marinade Sauce for Chicken, Beef, Pork, Fish and Salad, I made sure there’s always a supply in my fridge. You just never know when an emergency might hit.
And the Garlic Chicken is justly famous – both crispy and tender at the same time, doused with lots of sliced onions and sauce, served with surprisingly tasty white rice, black beans that have been cooked down to their essential elements, and plantains that are half starch and half dessert. But really, it all comes down to the chicken and the sauce. Still, the need to taste more is hard to resist.
Dangling in the air is the notion that maybe, just maybe, there’s a dish on the menu that’s even more “famoso.” And so, I keep tasting. And I have no complaints at all.
But that’s not to say there isn’t more. Options include the chicken and pork combination, which is just kind of perfect. And I do love the ropa vieja – literally, “old clothes” – shredded beef cooked long and slow till it really does melt.
And since paella is the point of this article, there’s a superb Cuban-style paella, drowning in seafood, with the tastiest rice imaginable … and a 30 minute wait time. It’s worthwhile, since it’s crazy good. At least as good as the shrimp in a butter and garlic sauce.
The San Fernando Valley branch of Versailles (the original is on Washington Boulevard in Culver City) sits in the culinary heart of Encino, surrounded by a nearly countless number of restaurants in every direction.
Those who have been around for a while remember when the space was home to a Maryland crab house. Well-spiced crabs have been replaced with well-spiced chicken, pork, beef, shrimp and fish.
If you can, begin your meal here with a couple of empanadas – the beef is probably best, but the chicken or spinach will do. The tamales are jammed with pork and onions, and doused with the garlic sauce, which I think of as the universal lubricant. And I do love the papas rellenas – mashed spuds packed with meat, then breaded and deep-fried. When in doubt, deep-fry – that would seem to be a Cuban culinary mantra.
If you need a brief respite from meat, pause with the salad of sliced avocado with onions – so simple, and so good, it’s a saladish palate cleanser. There’s a proper chicken soup as well, and a soup made with black beans that may obviate the need for any other dishes; it’s crazy filling.
But hey, meat is the motif here. And this is a superb time to remind yourself of how good the Cuban treatment of pork really is – with the lechon asado (roasted pork marinated in, yes, the garlic mojo sauce), and the macitas de puerco fritas (fried chunks of pork that somehow manage to be both tender and crispy at the same time).
And even though you may be on the edge of collapse, do order one of the desserts – they sure do know their flan, and their rice pudding rocks the room. Like I said, they must do a lot of dancing on the Malecón – how else to fit into those tight pants?
Gasolina Café
21150 Ventura Blvd., Woodland Hills; 818-914-4033, www.gasolinacafe.com
Gasolina is a small restaurant, with some seats outside on the street. Despite the café’s Spanish style, it’s become a much-loved neighborhood destination; on a Sunday morning when I visited, all the outdoor tables were taken up by families, including lots of kids, who were having a fine time eating the churros con chocolate, and the Spanish French toast called turron. Think dessert for breakfast; kiddie heaven!
The tortilla Española has long been a point of culinary confusion for American travelers, for it’s not a tortilla in the Mexican sense. It comes closer to the Italian classic, the frittata – a combination of omelet and pancake, with wonderful texture and taste. The egg is mixed with sliced potato, onions and piquillo peppers. There’s a salad served on the side, because, well, there’s a salad served on the side. As a breakfast side, it’s very refreshing.
The bread here is exceptional – worth every bite, no matter that you’ve sworn off carbs till you get your bikini body back. There’s pan con tomate, crispy toasted bread spread with a tomato paste; and pan con aguacate – avocado – a dish we’ve come to know well.
The bread also arrives topped with manchego cheese and 18-month-old jamón Serrano (Spain’s glorious sheep’s milk cheese) – the sort of dish eaten standing up at the counter at Madrid’s chain of fast-food eateries called Museo de Jamón (yup, Museum of Ham.)
If you’ve ever suffered through the sorrow of an egg McMuffin at Mickey D’s, wash away the memory with Gasolina’s breakfast sandwich of Spanish ham and cheese, with a scrambled egg, inside a superb brioche bun; trust me, you’ll never go back to the old ways.
The patatas bravas are a wonder, easily one of the best dishes at Gasolina – crispy home fries with chorizo, jamón and an egg served sunny-side up – exactly the way I like it. The yolk spills all over the spuds when you cut into it. Expect to lick the plate clean.
There’s a scramble of shrimp, garlic and asparagus, too, in case you need more veggies. And lest I give the impression that Gasolina is all breakfast, all the time, lunch dishes run to sandwiches of goat cheese and chorizo, manchego and tomato, portobello mushrooms and avocado.
There’s a garbanzo bean and baby kale salad (local zoning restrictions insist there be kale on every menu!). And, for those who need more, there’s a beef burger with aioli, Mahon cheese and onion marmalade. And some of the best cappuccino in town, good barista stuff, without the fuss and bother. Café con leche too.
Come dinner, there’s Paella the Gasolina Way. It takes 30-45 minutes to prepare any of the three paella options – paella de mariscos with shrimp, squid, scallops, piquillo peppers mussels and clams; paella de carne with brisket, chorizo, morcilla and haricots verts; and paella de seta with mushrooms, artichokes and seasonal veggies.
It’s a great way to go, if you can break away from the garlic chicken. Either that…or get a garlic chicken to go. It travels just fine.
Vino Wine & Tapas Room
18046 Ventura Blvd., Encino; 818-343-2525, www.vinowinetapas.com
With some three dozen tapas to choose from, this is a selection of dishes that can keep you busy for a while – through many a glass of wine. Which is easy, with three dozen reds and nearly two dozen whites, along with several rosés, sundry bubblies, and the house sangria. I like sangria; it goes down so easily. I can drink too much of it with ease.
The wines are from all over the map. But the tapas are mostly Spanish, served in a room that looks as if it were lifted whole from Old Madrid, with fabric hanging from the walls, paintings, low lights, chandeliers, much twinkle and, yes, blessed silence.
This is not a modern noise factory. But it is a place to go for the sort of cheese and sausages that Spaniards dote on come late afternoon, and into the early evening – or at least, until dinner at close to midnight.
All our old friends are here: the potato omelet called tortilla Española, mushrooms in garlic sauce, spicy patatas bravas, manchego (of course), shrimp served in a sizzling skillet, morcilla blood sausage with chickpeas. (A dish I once observed legendary modernist Spanish chef Ferran Adria having for breakfast at a counter in La Boqueria Market in Barcelona!)
And of course, there’s Vino’s Classic Paella for Two – all vegetables, seafood (mussels, shrimp, squid), chicken and chorizo, and a combination of seafood, chicken and chorizo. It’s a little (or lot) of everything, for those who can’t decide after too much vino.
And adding to the Spanishness of the place, there’s live music – including a Spanish guitar, of course – every night, beginning at seven in the evening. There’s no flamenco dancing. Which is fine, for it tends to harsh the mellow of wherever it’s being done.
If you like the grape – and don’t we all? – it’s shown proper respect. With food to match.
El Incomparable Peruvian Cuisine
17003 Chatsworth St., Granada Hills; 818-271-2070, elincomparableperuviancuisine.com
When you give yourself a name like El Incomparable, you’ve got a lot to live up to. And indeed, the word appears all over the menu – on the spiced whipped potatoes (causa El Incomparable), the Peruvian-Chinese fried rice (made with both rice and noodles, and oddly named Aeropuerto Incomparable), and the mixed ceviche El Incomparable.
The menu, perhaps with a suggestion of modesty, is only referred to as “Our awesome menu.” This is a restaurant with the confidence to announce its goodness. And the accolades, let me tell you, are well deserved.
Unlike its menu, El Incomparable is a modest space, at the busy corner of Chatsworth Street and Balboa Boulevard. The twin dining rooms are tile, with big screens showing Peruvian TV shows, and a front counter where snacks are sold for grab and go.
The place feels like a café in Lima, down to the heavy traffic on the street outside. (Last time I was in Lima, a local described the city as being, “LA without gringos.” In this case, it’s Lima with gringos.)
The photo-heavy menu, which goes on for 10 pages of densely described dishes, can take a while to go through. If you’re in the mood for whipped potato causa, do you get it with chicken, shrimp or tuna? Does it make sense to get both causa, and the classic Peruvian potato dish called papa a la Huancaina? It’s probably the best I’ve encountered this side of Cuzco, the spuds topped with a sauce of cheese, milk, olive oils, lime juice and yellow peppers, with an olive and a slice of hard-cooked egg atop the sauce, just for good measure.
And if you do opt for two potato-based appetizers, what’s to be done with the potatoes found on the pescado frito, the pollo a la pobre or the pollo a la plancha al oregano (which are fried), or perhaps the fries that come with the saltado de camarones and the saltado de pescado?
There are yams with the ceviche (which the menu, in a sweet typo, refers to as “yum”; and why not?). Can one eat too many potatoes? The potato was born in the Andes. When eating in an Andean restaurant, it’s clearly the thing to have. But then, it’s just the beginning. A sidebar, as it were, to so much soul-satisfying food.
So…what to get? I’ve always had a soft spot, as it were, for anticuchos – the Peruvian grill dish of marinated beef hearts, flavored with vinegar, black pepper, garlic and more. I grew up in a family that revered innards, parts that can no longer be found in markets. And heart was a special treat – chewy yet tender, flavorful with what I’d later identify as a venison-like savor. It’s served in this case with hot sauce, and the wonderful semi-exploded Peruvian corn called choclo.
There are browned potatoes on the side – of course there are. The mussels are pretty special – called choros, they’re served two ways (topped with onions, tomatoes, lime juice, corn and spicy sauce; or the same, but with the addition of calamari and shrimp, a dish on top of a dish). There’s much beef on the menu, and plenty of chicken.
But for me, they take up room I’d rather fill with ceviche, one of the greatest of all seafood preparations – simply because this is seafood, more or less unprepared. It’s “cooked” (as it were) in leche de tigre, a powerful mix of lime juice, salt, garlic, ginger and celery.
The shore in Lima, Peru, is lined with dozens ceviche restaurants, everything from simple stands, to fine dining establishments with extensive wine lists – and selections of ceviched seafood so extensive and regional, you’ve got to keep looking up the fish to see what the heck it is.
The selection at El Incomparable is, of course, briefer, but it’s sufficient – white fish, shrimp, mussels (and in the case of one combination, it’s served with both a fried fish, and calamari fritti).
There’s another combination, called Trio Marino, that’s fish ceviche, tuna causa and chicharron de pescado. A happier, more appealing, tastier combination would be hard to imagine. Except, perhaps, for the Peruvian paella – arroz con mariscos (rice with shrimp, mussels, octopus and green peas, all cooked in aji panda and Peruvian spices).
And do leave room for the helado de lucuma, which has nothing to do with fish, but lots to do with a Peruvian fruit, the lucuma, which looks like a shotgun marriage between a pear and a mango, and tastes like a sweet potato grown on a diet of maple syrup. They make it into ice cream.
And though I do love it for its exoticism, the simple arroz con leche calls to me as well. I grew up on rice pudding. A good rice pudding makes me a kid again. And this is a very good rice pudding.
Merrill Shindler is a Los Angeles-based freelance dining critic. Email mreats@aol.com.
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