An online ad recently popped up on my email that pretty well defies the conundrum of Mother’s Day for me. It read, “Show mom some love: Spoil mom this Mother’s Day with a delightful brunch … enjoy a delicious spread, a stunning view and celebrate the amazing woman in your life.”
The Mother’s Day menu goes on to detail the joys of steak and eggs, a burger with caramelized onion, fish tacos and huevos rancheros — dishes that would very likely satisfy none of the mothers in my family.
If my mother were still with us, she’d prefer a corned beef sandwich on rye, heavy on the coleslaw. My mother-in-law would probably lean toward a nice brunch of branzino, preceded by a Lemon Drop cocktail, and followed by a Lemon Drop cocktail. My wife would find happiness with a nice big plate of mixed sushi rolls and sashimi.
The standard Father’s Day feed of a steak dropped in the Weber, and a 12 pack of beer, would win no points. (We men are such simple creatures.)
Mother’s Day may be the most difficult holiday of the year — even more difficult than Valentine’s Day, which is generally accepted as a scam for selling cards and boxes of candy. Mother’s Day is taken seriously by mothers. It’s a day to tread lightly.
Mother’s Day didn’t exist until 1914. Not because nobody had thought of it, but because the U.S. Congress was opposed to it. In 1908, Congress rejected a proposal to make Mother’s Day an official holiday. … You read that right; Congress voted against motherhood. They thought the notion was a joke, and argued more than a little absurdly that it would lead to more holidays, like Mother-in-Law’s Day. (You think we’ve got an obstructionist Congress now? Given the opportunity, they probably would have voted against the flag and apple pie as well!)
But thanks to the creator of Mother’s Day — peace activist Anna Jarvis — in 1914 President Woodrow Wilson got around Congress with a proclamation designating the second Sunday in May as a national holiday to honor motherhood.
And who was Anna Jarvis? As an activist, she had cared for wounded soldiers on both sides during the American Civil War, during which she created Mother’s Day Work Clubs to deal with public health issues. And when her own mother died in 1905, she began a campaign to create a special day to honor motherhood. She had the support of the growing women’s rights movement, including suffragette Julia Ward Howe, who made a Mother’s Day proclamation in 1870.
It took 44 years for that notion to finally be adopted. But only a decade for it to be turned into one of the biggest sales days of the year for greeting cards, and boxes of candy.
Which, for the record, upset Anna Jarvis so much she organized boycotts of companies selling cards, and showed up to protest at a candy-maker’s convention in Philadelphia in 1923. She wanted the day kept pure and non-commercial, with mothers being thanked with hand-written letters. She even objected to the selling of flowers. How she would feel about the notion of taking mothers out for nice meals can only be imagined.
And ironically, the founder of Mother’s Day never married, and had no children of her own.
But, back to the notion of Mother’s Day meals. I suspect Anna Jarvis would have insisted you have to do the cooking yourself, giving mom a day off. But a massive culinary industry has grown over the years, with restaurants gifting moms with flowers, and family groups gathering around large tables to offer more boxes of See’s Candy than seems rational.
Growing up back east, fancier folks than I would take their moms to somewhat fussy, upscale restaurants with names like Patricia Murphy’s Candlelight, and the fabled Tavern on the Green in New York’s Central Park. By contrast, nothing made my working-class mother happier than a mixed plate of brisket and corned beef at a local deli. My wife often opts for dim sum as often as sushi. My mother-in-law loves both branzino and IHOP.
So, my selection of restaurants is a bit random. But they lean toward the nicer side. I still think that the notion of handing mom a rose when she enters is a fine gesture. But then, I miss wearing ties too. Times change. And as my mother used to say: “Every day should be Mother’s Day.” Right she was.
Mercado
Manhattan Village, 3212A N. Sepulveda Blvd., Manhattan Beach; 310-545-0388, www.cocinasycalaveras.com
Manhattan Village is becoming an excellent destination for both dining and shopping — the latter of which makes the mothers I know very happy. But meanwhile, I need a bite to eat. And Mercado is so good, it’s worth a stop because this is Mexican cooking on the cutting edge. This is what’s next, in the wonderful world of tortillas.
Mercado is a concept from the Cocina y Calaveras Group. They seem to have a penchant for moving into spaces in which other crowd-friendly eateries have opened, and failed. And for all I know, the secret of their success may be their superb margaritas, especially the Spicy Cucumber model, made even spicier with jalapeño purée and chipotle salt around the rim. God is in the details; and the details are in this margie.
The bar menu is encyclopedic, with 51 tequilas to choose from, ranging from artisanal Blancos, up to a handful of “Extra Anejos,” flavored with vanilla and chocolate. There are a dozen mezcals as well, and a dozen beers; for $2 more, they’ll turn any of the beers into micheladas.
The food menu itself is not long, but it is long enough. And pretty much every dish has a twist, added by longtime Executive Chef Jose Acevedo and his staff.
Under the watchful eyes of the skull paintings on the walls (a Mercado design signature), Mercado serves 11 appetizers and nine entrées, along with four veggie dishes, all of which fit on a single buffish colored page.
But there’s a lot of creativity in these limited choices. Consider our old standby, good ol’ guacamole, a very simple dish offering very complex pleasure. In this case, the avocados are mashed with serrano chiles, cilantro, red onions, salsa brava, spicy pepita seeds (pumpkin seeds should you be wondering) and, of course, a pile of chips. The avos are Hass — because they have to be. The dish is large, enough for two. And of course, it goes very well with an adult beverage. Always has.
The guac also comes as a part of a Dip Duo, along with the mushroom choriqueso, a bit of a happy mess of a dish. Mushroom choriqueso is melted cheese with chorizo — three melted cheeses, to be precise (cotija, parmesan and Oaxaca cheese) — along with white wine, poblano chiles, and a mushroom and chorizo mix.
Put guacamole together with the choriqueso, and you decidedly have a dish that will keep you for an evening. Or perhaps, warm you up nicely for the refreshing cucumber salad, made with not just cukes, but also tomatoes, corn, red onions, avocado, spiced cheese, pepitas, cilantro and a serrano chile and lime dressing.
If you want, you can add some grilled Jidori chicken breast to the salad. I also have a proper affection for the jicama and ahi tacos (love that chile de arbol aioli dressing!), the shrimp ceviche verde, and the roasted cauliflower with chile morita marinade.
If more people made cauliflower taste this good, its reputation as the liver of vegetables might go away. And, for that matter, this terrific cauliflower prep reappears as a vegetarian entrée, in tacos with avocado salsa and Mexican spiced rice.
The Bull Pen
314 Ave. I, Redondo Beach; 310-375-7797, www.thebullpenredondo.com
The Bull Pen first opened in 1948. And even The Bull Pen itself has gone through several different locations — this is its third home in Redondo Beach, where it’s been since 1978 — though many of us have little recollection of it ever being anywhere else.
Like only a handful of local restaurants, The Bull Pen is rich with the history of the Beach Cities. Indeed, there’s even an early menu (if not the first) behind the bar, from when the restaurant was King Cole’s Bull Pen.
The dishes have changed in some categories, not in others. The prices have changed a lot, but then that’s true everywhere. An early menu, posted behind the bar, offers six cuts of beef — top sirloin, New York, filet mignon, prime rib, porterhouse and breaded beef tenderloin.
Lo’ these many years later, things have changed — but as much in terms of preparation as anything else. Now, there’s a choice of filet mignon two ways — topped with bacon and onion rings, and seasoned with Cajun spices; the lesson, I suspect, is that we’re a spicier, more bacon-intensive country than we used to be. Which sounds about right.
These days, the sirloin isn’t just a top cut, but a “top of the top” coulotte steak, served with sautéed mushrooms. There are beef tournedos and beef medallions. And there’s a pepper steak with bell peppers and bacon bits. Yup, more bacon. When in doubt — bacon.
Though much has changed, much more hasn’t. If you feel the need for a halibut filet with tartar sauce, this is the place. If you have a craving for beef liver, a dish that exudes old times, and good times, they’ve got it at The Bull Pen, along with chicken livers sautéed in wine, butter and mushrooms.
I suspect there are generations of Sushi Kids out there who have never even imagined chicken livers sautéed in wine, butter and mushrooms.
The pride of the house is “Our world famous hamburger.” It’s on the lunch menu, and it’s on the dinner menu. I guess it could be argued that it’s on the weekend breakfast menu as well, when it appears as a side order “burger pattie” (sic).
In an age of outlandish burgers, of burgers so oversized and so complex, The Bull Pen’s “World famous” is notable for its restraint. It’s simply a good-sized burger patty, cooked to order, served on a puffy toasted bun, with cheese for 75 cents extra, and a choice of soup or salad on the side. There’s lettuce underneath. There are decent french fries on the side. Ketchup is the condiment of choice. It’s honest, decent and a fine feed. It tastes of old times, before locals lived in board shorts and flip-flops.
It is, in a way, the very essence of The Bull Pen — straight-forward, to the point, tasty and reasonably priced. And, of course, it goes just fine with Scotch on the rocks. Which can’t be said for the more outré burgers of the world. It’s a taste of how life used to be — and how it still is, at least how it still is, in this time warp corner of Redondo Beach.
Uncle Bill’s Pancake House
1305 Highland Ave., Manhattan Beach; 310-545-5177, www.unclebills.net
The biggest crowd in downtown Manhattan Beach is almost surely at Uncle Bill’s Pancake House. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been going to the fabled Uncle Bill’s — arguably the most iconic breakfast joint in the South Bay — on weekends, for a fine feed of pancakes and waffles. Which means I’ve gone expecting a wait, with a quintessential beach crowd of joggers, bikers, surfers, skateboarders and the like, who happily show up for both the chow, and the social scene.
This is probably the best party in town — at least one that isn’t held at night.
Breakfast is served all day at Uncle Bill’s. And if you were to decide, quite logically, to work your way through every breakfast dish on the menu, eating one dish a day, it would take you something like more than two months of assiduous dining. You’d go through house specials like Mitch’s Scramble (eggs, green chiles and cream cheese), the Istanbul Omelette (Swiss cheese, turkey and sour cream), the potatoes Stroganoff (hash browns with bacon and melted cheese, which can be turned into potatoes del Riego with the addition of peppers, onions and avocado), and the magnificent cheddar and bacon waffle — a perfectly cooked waffle with cheese and bacon baked into it.
There’s just a bit more than a month of dishes available for lunch as well. And where the breakfast dishes offer a certain amount of quirk among the standards, the lunch options are pretty much straight and narrow. How wonderfully retro to order an avocado and tuna salad combo, with the tuna mixed with lots of mayonnaise. Not some sort of balsamic dressing, or a kinky aioli. But good, old fashioned mayo, just like mama used back in the day. It tasted … so good, like a guilty pleasure that I’ve been denied for far too long.
And to make it even better, it came with a choice of dressings — blue cheese, thousand island, honey mustard, ranch, Italian, cream Caesar, and good ol’ oil & vinegar. It was a world apart from ahi tartare and grilled pig’s ears, hardly of the same universe. And so darned good.
Uncle Bill’s may be the happiest place this side of Disneyland. And so much more reasonably priced.
The Kettle
1138 Highland Ave., Manhattan Beach; 310-545-8511, www.thekettle.net
The Kettle returns us to the land of the culinary icons. In much the same way that I can’t imagine Hollywood without Musso & Frank, and Chinatown without Philippe’s French Dip, I can’t imagine Manhattan Beach (or the South Bay for that matter) without The Kettle.
Even though it’s only been there since 1973 (and where else but in SoCal do people consider 1973 to be a date in a long distant past?), it feels downright eldritch — as if the restaurant were already there when the city was incorporated way back in 1912.
The Kettle sits at the corner of Highland Avenue and Manhattan Beach Boulevard, the epicenter of downtown Manhattan Beach. Its décor is so cozy, it’s beyond cozy; I suspect there are folks for whom it’s more home than home.
Sadly, my extensive menu collection does not include the original for The Kettle. Though I suspect that even though it’s 36 years later, there’s probably a lot of overlap with today’s menu — classic, down-home American cooking tends to stay pretty close to the straight and narrow. At places like The Kettle, the more things change in the outside world, the more they stay the same on the menu — an anchor in an age of anxiety.
And, you know what they offer; these are breakfast dishes like we all grew up eating, dishes made by our mamas, dishes that make us feel secure in a world of chaos and change. The most important decision is: How do you like your eggs? Over easy works fine for me. And a little crust on the scrambled never hurts.
Madre!
1261 Cabrillo Ave., Torrance; 310- 974-8005, www.madrerestaurants.com
There are some two dozen mezcals on the shelves at Madre! — the very exciting “Oaxacan Restaurant & Mezcaleria” across the street from The Depot in downtown Torrance (not one of which has a worm in the bottle).
But that’s gimmick mezcal — what you get at Madre! is artisanal mezcal, craft mezcal, some of which cost more for a shot than several bottles of Gusano cost. This is mezcal at its highest level — with another two dozen artisanal, craft tequilas to match.
If you’re a fan of Mexican spirits, this is a superb place to go, with some serious mixology to match — the Besos de Mezcal cocktail is made with Mezcal Joven, a green pepper liqueur called Ancho Reyes Verde, sweet tamarind, Caribbean falernum syrup and lime. An alt drink out of an alt universe.
And, really, the bar is just the beginning of the happy madness at Madre! — which has been turned from the old Buffalo Fire Department burger and beer joint, into a major destination for the remarkable flavors and dishes of Oaxaca. It features the most distinctive, and arguably most delicious cooking in Mexico.
Can you say mole? They sure can — and it’s a dazzling creation! There are six moles — rojo, negro, verde, yellow, and multi-hued coloradito and estofado — all served with chicken, for it’s chicken that has a mild flavor that allows the moles to dazzle, to headline, to be the point of the dish. (Probably, the moles could be served on toast, and be a savory pleasure.)
For me, the classic is mole negro — chocolate brown, tasting of unsweetened Oaxacan chocolate, chiles and a bestiary of seeds, nuts, herbs and spices. It dazzles, it dances, it entrances — it’s one of the best dishes you’ll ever eat. But do be careful not to get it on your clothing; it does not wash out easily.
And though it’s (for me at least) the centerpiece of the menu, the list of dishes — unexpectedly long and comprehensive — offers dozens of other pleasures. Have you ever had the Oaxacan pizza called tlayuda? There are four on the menu here, topped with black beans paste, cabbage, avocado, radishes, tomatoes and a choice of many meats, ranging from chorizo, grilled beef tasajo and jerky-like cecina to pork beef and chicken Milanesa. It’s a dish to share, as is much of the menu.
Consider the oversized combination platter called “Tour of Oaxaca” — a $35 extravaganza of quesadillas fried masa molotes, taquitos, more pizza-like tortillas called memelas, chorizo, cecina, tostaditos and lots of Oaxacan cheese. Or the Canasta 20 de Noviembre — a feast of cecina, ripe, chorizo, grilled cactus, onions, beans, nopalitos, avocado, cucumbers, chiles and tortillas. Though, of course, not all dishes are that daunting.
There are numerous enchiladas, tamales, burritos, tacos, tortas, stews, empanadas and appetizers to spare. A section called “Straight from Central” is packed with classics like fajitas, beef barbacoa, chiles rellenos, even goat barbacoa.
There’s a private dining room in the rear, and outdoor seating. Though most opt for the main dining room, which is filled with large tables of families and friends, mad for what may be the food of their childhoods — or perhaps a Mexican variation just discovered, embraced, and deeply loved.
MB Post
1142 Manhattan Ave., Manhattan Beach; 310-545-5405, www.eatmbpost.com
At David LeFevre’s MB Post, the menu begins with a section of “hand-crafted cocktails” (Blood & Smoke, Cordial Agreement, Vic Vega and the like), with lots of small batch wines and craft beers, setting the tone for a properly boozy South Bay brunch. And, for a menu of many wondrous breads and pastries — bacon-cheddar buttermilk biscuits, sticky buns, caramelized banana bread pudding and the like.
They make their own breakfast sausages. Their menu includes both pork belly bibimbap and green chile pork chimichangas, along with a La Quercia Tamworth prosciutto eggs Benedict, pork and shrimp dumplings and a falafel sandwich. This is eclectic cuisine, writ large and boldface! Pure LeFevre! The place is loud, lively, fun, personable — and filled with great looking Manhattan Beach people, so well-tended, so well cared for. (They make me feel like a Morlock among the Eloi.).
Along with the biscuits (holy biscuits if you ask me), come the fleur de sel pretzels with Chef David’s amazing horseradish mustard. A small crock of the house-made pickles come as well, not a lot, but enough. There are Brussels sprouts, done as well as anyone in town does that born-again vegetable, mixed with Emmentaler cheese, hazelnuts and crispy sage leaves. And, there’s broccoflower — think of a shotgun wedding between broccoli and cauliflower — with lemon, chili flakes and parmesan.
There are steamed mussels, lots of them, in a green curry with Chinese lop cheung sausage and coriander flavored rice. There’s a Thai flavored shrimp ceviche that dazzled the table; the coconut milk pushed it over the edge. There’s Maryland soft-shell bleu crabs, crispy as potato chips, with corn relish. And there’s a grilled skirt steak, a cut of meat long ignored, with a chimichurri sauce, and a flavor that reminds me of why I’ll never be a vegetarian.
For dessert, there’s a glass of soft serve chocolate ice cream, with Valrhona chocolate brownies, and the most luscious cherries, hidden within like little treasures. Which they are. It’s the right restaurant for Manhattan Beach. And the right restaurant for us. It’s how we roll.
Merrill Shindler is a Los Angeles-based freelance dining critic. Email mreats@aol.com.
