Notes from the Road: Los Angeles

Here for a panel on California Cuisine.  Interesting multicultural, inter-generational conversation.

Later I had dinner at Bucato, in Culver City, with a big group of friends. We sat outside, surrounded by huge heaters shooting flames into the air.  To a New Yorker, just  being here is a kind of Los Angeles dream: the chic people walking in, the balmy air, the fantastic fire.

But the food here is a surprise. The best dishes are all carbs. Superb breads, some crusty, some soft, warm and pliable, served with a variety of fats: goat butter and whipped lardo both make an appearance.  I could happily spend an entire evening munching on these. 

But that would mean missing the pastas, which are in a class by themselves. Portions are small, the hand-rolled shapes strangely soft and seriously sexy.  My favorite was macaroni di busa, a sinuous Sardinian shape, dotted with pungent little crumbles of white ragu that make it clear the starring role belongs to the pasta.

Afterward we had a serious hunk of ribeye, and I spent the rest of the evening chewing happily on the bone.