Sutter's Mill - Scott

Randy picked the location for this year's office party out of a coupon pack back in November. It was for 'Sutter's Mill' about a mile from the Simi Hills Golf Course where we were playing. I'd seen the ad many times over the years but never paid much attention. I don't even have a good reason, I just never took it seriously. Not smart. They specialize in prime rib which is one of my all time favorite 'special' dinners and the place has been around for 50 years. I called a few days before to make the reservation and some old time miner/cowboy answered and took the info. He finished with "I've got 4 of you at 5pm looking for Prime Rib....you'll get it" in his grizzled voice.
We lit that menu up with an order of Potato Skins to start. Sean and I each enjoyed a 20 ounce cut of the kitchen's finest. Rare please with the sauteed mushroom floater and some of those loaded, twice baked potatoes. That whipped horseradish was nosewatering. I love that stuff. My mouth is watering as I write this. Pat, our resident steak expert had the Chicken Scampi?? A misfire for sure. Randy rounded out the order with a Prime Rib Sandwich on Garlic Toast. The bar was inviting with it's cozy decor and stiff drinks. The food was excellent from top to bottom and the gold-rush area decor was a cool little quirk. Even the servers were dolled up in hoop dresses. I'd go back here any old time pardners, say the word.

Elmer's Beer & Sandwiches - Scott

My turn at the wheel. In the true spirit of the 'Dinner Club' I chose a decidedly guy's place that none of us would think of bringing the wives. It's a small beer bar called Elmer's down the hill from my house. They have steady local clientele, a pool table and plenty of historic flavor. Legend has it that they tried to update the 1970s decor at one point and the locals talked them out of it. 'Leave it alone' was the vote and they relented after only one wall of the bathroom was refinished. Anyhow, I've seen in our local paper that they have 'the best burgers in Simi' so it deserved a look. The draw here is the brick grill at the end of the bar. You can watch your burger being prepared right next to you as you sip the 'coldest beer' in town. As you can see by the menu, it's been around since 1972 so these guys have the script down cold. It has that aged and comfortable feeling that you can't fake.. The bartender and the fellow patrons couldn't have been friendlier. That says a lot considering it's pretty much all regulars night after night. Bill, son of the original owner Elmer, has a wooden plaque displayed prominently near the cooler that keeps his burger tally from his high school days until now. Yes, that's 11,368 he has personally consumed himself. It's a number that baffles the mind (and heart).
We each enjoyed a few beers and good conversation before ordering dinner. It's very simple here, just burgers or burgers and maybe a burger. No sides, no fries, just ground chuck grilled with pastrami, onions, cheese and/or a little mayo on the bun. Our orders varied from singles to doubles, extra cheese and that pastrami. All were hot off the grill and tasty. They're a lot like backyard burgers...simple but good. Comfort food. We enjoyed a long block of southern rock over the sound system, a sloppy game of pool and just took in the old-fashioned bar charm. There aren't too many places around like this in suburbia so we need to do our part in keeping them going. I like Elmers, there's definitely a time and a place for it. Since the crowd is friendly (and apparently there's no ageism), I'll bring Griffin in for a game of pool and some grub when he's older. It's a slice of life he'll need to experience.

Farrell's Ice Cream Parlor - Scott

Not so fun fact about me: I had never been to a Farrell's Ice Cream Parlour. Sad but true. Sure, I remember the commercials and lived through all the schoolyard hype but never had the pleasure due to a 'not so sugar-friendly' house growing up. I missed that train and they pretty much evaporated by the dawn of the 1980s. Being an ice-cream hound though, it never left my radar. A few months back, after much careful planning, they opened the first new, real, 7000 square foot Farrells in Mission Viejo. These dorks did their homework and went all out in making it 'right' or as close as possible some 30 years later.

We happened to be down in San Diego over the break and it was a no-brainer that we'd stop and hit this up on our way back. Griffin, Elise, her friend Karen (+ baby Zach), Jen and her daughters Emily, Sarah and Natalie all managed to make it with some last minute coordination. Elise and Jen are old Farrell's pros so their color commentary was key. There was a wait as the place was bursting on our Wednesday afternoon visit. Once we secured our place in line (outside), I went in to see what the hell this was all about. Player piano, check. Goofy straw hats, check. Some barker running around banging on a drum, check. Oh and a full-on ice cream bar/fountain deal that was boooooming. Great atmosphere, all good.We waited a while but it was worth it. The food, which we kinda thought would be a side-show, was actually damn good. I'd put my club sandwich against anyone's. Yes, that good, no kidding. Thick cut, peppered bacon, quality turkey and some sort of secret sauce.

All that was, of course, a precursor to the main event. Our server suggested we order dessert when the food arrived so we did. Dan has been talking up the 'pig's trough' and I did consider it but let's be serious, that's be the equivalent of 2 or 3 banana splits. That's over the top. Some dude actually did it and the 'barker' had us all salute him with oinks and jeers. Lots of birthdays were going on so the 'Zoos' were on parade. The sirens were going off and the servers were running these things around on stretchers while yelling out some rhyme/song. All this was what I came for, mostly.Full, but not too full from lunch, we all saddled up to our selections. Me, being a rookie, had little trouble in starting my own tradition. 'Parlour Tin Roof' is all me and I knew it from first glance. Vanilla ice cream, fudge and spanish peanuts all layered up and topped with whip cream and a cherry. Done. There were also some Black and Whites (choc, vanilla, marshmallow sauce) and a Gold Digger (peanuts, butterscotch, fudge) at our table. For about 10 minutes there was no talking, just eating.

Fantastic, what can I say.Check out the photos, relive the magic, and schedule a stop next time you go through Mission Viejo. As Dave says, look at it though a 9 year old's eyes and just dig it. My next visit will be with Dan when he makes good on his pledge to do 2 'Zoos' in 10 minutes.

The Original Pantry - Dan & Scott

Dan and I hit "The Original Pantry' on South Figueroa before the LA Auto Show today. I'd heard of it through the years but never more than a casual mention. This location been continuously open since 1938 or something crazy. We both opted for the burgers which were not only superbly tasty but came with a nice prelude of sourdough bread and cole slaw. I was very impressed all the way down the line. Well done. Oh and bonus points for having A-1 Sauce on the table. The photos speak for themselves. We enjoyed a wonderful meal in a great atmosphere and even had a little side-show drama with a dash of police response at the very next table. All this on a Friday at 2pm. Nice.

Father's Office (Scott & Dan)

We went to a newishly famous/trendy (dare I say) place called 'Father's Office' in Culver City for what some say is the best burger in LA.  I never get caught up in hype, it usually ends in disappointment.  I heard enough good things that I figured it was worth a try.  Well people, I'm here to tell you it was.

The burgers Dan and I enjoyed (1 1/2 each) were as good as any I've e-v-e-r had.  No joke.  Cooked to order with fresh ingredients, they were top notch all the way.  It's a french baguette roll with Arugula, a combination shot of Maytag Bleu Cheese and grueyere cheeses topped off with carmelized onions and some sort of spread mayo of sorts. It all works to perfection.  The meat is tasty enough (and cooked properly) to stand on it's own with just bread, truly.  Check the juicy burger photo porn I've supplied. These guys have it nailed and that's no small declaration.

I'm feeling this place for a lot of reasons.  One, even though it's a fairly hipster, upscale place, these guys had zero attitude whatsoever.  Also, there was no wait and the parking was free (as it should be, everywhere).  They offered a gillion beers it seemed and the barkeep had Dan and my tastes narrowed down straight way.  To keep the Sallys in check, the burgers come one way here...no substitutions, deletions or second-guessing the chef.  It's their way, period.  I love that confidence. Oh, and there's no ketchup anywhere in the place.  If you want their fries (shoestring or sweet potato) then you're getting the aioli mayonnaise in the dipper ramekin.  

                

I found nothing to gripe about here, not even mildly. It gets my highest score and I can be a picky bitch when it comes to my burgers. Trust me, you'll dig it.  All of it. - Scott

Spot on.  Outstanding.

 

And now your People Report...

 

Father's Office is in the Helms Bakery building, which is a big old factory that has been converted to an artsy-fartsy design center.  When your faggity designer says, "Let's go to Helms", he's not talking about going to the bridge on a pirate ship.  He's talking about "window treatments" and lucite coffee tables at the Helms Design Center, a mecca for the gay and stylish.   So, you can pretty much profile the people who are at Father's Office, before you even walk in.

 

The guy sitting next to me was a bizarre combination of homo, dweeb, geek, and nerd.   He had physique like John Candy, was wearing blue framed eyeglasses, was reading the "Republic" magazine, a magazine that stands for who-the-fuck knows, and he was writing madly in his journal the whole time, when he wasn't interrogating the waiter about the Arrugula.   I'll give him credit though.  I have no idea what label to hang on him.  Fucking scary is the best I can do.  I'm sure he would have jerked off under the bar if he could have gotten away with it. 

 

Sitting across from me was the young couple fresh off of a late night at a trendy bar and a morning shagging.  He had a beer and she had a bottled soda (this place sells soda in a bottle...a nice touch but the way this place presents, it's really kind of snotty).  Oh, and before I forget, this place refers to french fries here as "Frites."  Are you getting the picture?

Anyway, I've got a full view o

f the shagging couple and she's a cute little thing.  Looked like David Arquette's sister.  What's her name?  Monica from "Friends."  Her rack was outstanding and I had a nice profile view of that.   She caught me looking a couple of times and commented to her boyfriend, I think.  There was lots of whispering going on over there so they could have been just talking about the retard sitting next to me (not Scott).

 

The bow on top of our little outing, however, was the couple sitting to to our left and a couple of seats down from the scary guy.  She was blonde and had full dreadlocks.  She, of course, was with the all sleeved out tattoo guy.  They looked like they just came from a punk rock concert, or facsimile thereof, and were definitely very rough.  Then, out of nowhere, they order glasses of wine.  Wine?  Really?  These two look like they were weened on beer and they seemed like the two people in th

e joint who gave it some credibility at all in the beer drinking department, and they ordered wine?  I don't get it.  In any case, Scott quickly concluded that chicks with dreadlocks will let you do ANYTHING to them.  I concur.   If you offered up a kick-fucking to that chick, she would have jumped on it and NOW please.

 

Above all, the place was full of interesting people, so we were way ahead of the game when we walked in.   And the burger was, honestly, probably the best I have ever had.  It had lots of fancy stuff on it, so I don't know if you can put it side-by-side with an In-N-Out, etc., but it definitely raised the bar.  -  Dan

Corrigan's Steak House (Dan)

Friends:

So you want some "atmosphere" with your steak dinner?

We have a place for you, in spades.

Scott, Gregg and I decided to go to Corrigan's Steak House a couple of weeks ago for our tri-monthly food review outing and to otherwise get back to nature and experience the local Thousand Oaks flavor. We got an ass full of that with some to spare.

Corrigans is a legendary steakhouse on Thousand Oaks Blvd. and it's been there forever and is now probably circling the drain. The place, apparently,is named after an old stuntman in old Westerns named "Corrigan". Corrigan is dead and gone now but his son Tom still runs the place, 10 gallon hat and all, and he basically sits at the bar and gets hammered drunk on Wild Turkey and barks out orders. So you can pretty much fill in the gaps on all the decor in the place. Guns and antlers on the walls, old western movie posters, wagon wheels dangling perilously from the ceiling, old televisions stacked on other old televisions with extension cords strung like tripwire, winos and miscreants sitting at the bar, the whole bit. This place is all about locals and making sure they get their drink on by 6:30 a.m., which is opening time for the bar, as deftly noticed by Scott upon first glance at the menu.

So I arrive early via designated driver and take a seat at the bar. The bartender was nice enough but clearly she's an enabler to all the world class alcoholics who frequent this place. She's serving drinks, running the football pool, stirring the Crockpot full of polish sausage on the bar (help yourself) and handling all the other extracurricular activities behind the bar. She's skilled. The three chuckleheads at the bar next to me are already completely heated by 5 PM and are having a drunken conversation about Chardonnay. These guys obviously just came from hanging drywall somewhere, yet they're talking about their favorite Chardonnays. I'm intrigued and I wonder if they know Gregg. For good measure, they're giving me the stinkeye and then they start in with the racial jokes. Now I'm scared, and I'm not even close to being the target of their jokes. I text Gregg and ask for his ETA. I'm going to need some backup here. In the meantime, Tom the owner is at the other end of the bar, with his big ass hat, talking on the telephone to a guy who he apparently wants to hire as kitchen help, but doesn't speak English. So Tom is speaking loudly into the telephone, conducting restaurant business right out in the open, and doing his best "No hablo" thing and trying to communicate to this guy to show up the next day to start work. How desperate was that guy for a job? Who the hell is running the kitchen right now?

In the meantime, we're now in prime dinner hour and the entire restaurant is empty. I'm talking crickets. The place seats about 100 people and there's NOBODY there, except the assholes at the bar. What is this place trying to tell me?

Then I notice that the banquet room adjacent to the bar is empty, but 4 guys go in and start setting up a card game. These guys looked like middle aged doctors and it was obvious that we were now interrupting their weekly card game (with money changing hands) right there in the bar. These guys were all business and, in all honesty, I'm kinda jealous. They picked a perfect venue for a weekly card game and clearly had a tradition going. These guys were going to get hassled by nobody in this place.

Gregg and Scott finally arrive and our waiter makes a big production out of giving us the best seat in the house, which is next to the broken fireplace under the dangerously dangling wagon wheel.

The waiter was absolutely priceless. A very sweet guy who was trying very hard and actually did a pretty good job but was totally distracting. Imagine Herve Villechaize but about two feet taller. Same goofy accent and fucked up teeth and the whole deal. We asked him to run down the specials for us and the guy went on a filibuster for about 5 minutes. He knocked out all the specials from memory, and I'm talking about a LONG list of specials. He actually started to sweat about half way through. He nailed it though, and we were impressed. This guy was dedicated and I have to say he was definitely an overachiever in this place. He even put a "reserved" placard on our table for crying out loud. Reserved for what?

So then Scott starts working the menu. He's all over it and no stone is going unturned. In the end, however, it looks like it's going to be standard ribeyes all the way around for this dance. Done. Gregg and Scott are going with onions, thank you very much, and go ahead and deliver some onions on the side, just in case of emergency. Done and done. Baked potato? Sure. And bring all the fixins with that. Garlic bread and another cocktail? Absolutely, my good man, and keep 'em comin'. How about a side of chili with your steak, Mr. Akemon? Fuckin' A. Bring it. We're definitely warming up to this place. So then the food comes out, and it's spectacular. The attached photos speak for themselves, so let your eyes do the tasting. This place was old school, with the butter, sour cream, and chive carousel right there at our fingertips. Go ahead and help yourself and there's not WAY you can hurt it. When's the last time you saw the baked potato fixins carousel? Didn't that used to be standard circa Hungry Hunger and Velvet Turtle? What the hell? And by the way, the chili on the side was pure ambrosia. In the end, I don't want to even know what the kitchen in this place looks like, given the way the dining room looks, but there is some magic going on back there and it was sprinkled all over this meal.

We wrapped up dinner with another cocktail and group dessert and headed for the door. That's when the waiter really started to sweat because there was some sort of foul up on his tip and we walked out without paying him. That guy worked his ass off and we almost stiffed him. We were his only table that night (seriously) and then we were going to stiff him? His whole family was probably counting on that tip to live. I don't know how many of his family members it would take to kill us, but I know how many they were going to use. Dying in the parking lot would actually have been an interesting ending to this tale.

But no. Instead, we piled into Gregg's new Mustang, dropped the top down, threw our capes around our necks, bid Corrigans adieu, and roared away into the night and into a blissful steak haze. But first we had to stop for smokes.

/da








Follow up:

I went in expecting a 6ish experience.I left feeling it was 8ish, I quite enjoyed myself. There's a place for Corrigan's in our lives, I'm just not sure I know where. Yet.Honorable mention goes out to the Cowboy Beans (done correctly) which are a rare treat in today's dining arena. Oh and the lasagna dish of grilled onions they dialed up for Gregg. Man vs. Food material for sure.The 'scratching my head' award goes out to the Ulysses (our server) for showing us the dessert tray and then serving our selections right from it. Really? That tray had been out...just sitting out on theeasel thing for longer than we'd been there. Can he do that? <> My spell check didn't even go off for this. Is that really a word?

Nice pull and nice job overall Dan. Bravo. - Scott

Pea Soup Anderson's (Scott)

If you don't fancy split pea soup, you can tune out now...

You're undoubtedly aware of the Andersen's Split Pea Soup in the canned variety. You might not know that they also have Andersen's restaurants that serve the stuff up homemade. Now I've been a big fan of the green goodness since I first tried it down in Carlsbad some 10 years back. It's just tasty. At the time, they had 2 big cauldrons of it at the end of the salad bar...one plain and one with little diced ham bits throughout. You know which one I went for. I love LOVE that stuff. A few years later I was back (Carlsbad) and they had done away with the Ham variety. What? Did the dicer/slicer guy quit? Haven't these people heard of the slap-chop? Seriously. It was then I noticed they were touting the fact it's 'vegetarian' so undoubtedly some corporate sissypiss drafted a memo to 'do away with the good version' and let's focus on the softer clientele. That Carlsbad location closed not long after. No surprise to me.

I've known about the Buellton location (maybe the lone Andersen's outpost now?) since I was a kid. There are signs all over saying '80 miles to Buellton' or whatever but it wasn't until 5 or 6 years ago I finally made it in there. I was underwhelmed...it was ok but not dazzling. I've held some sort of grudge ever since they dropped the ham I guess. The other Danish stuff on the menu was arguably better. The sausage sampler plate is killer by the way, try it.

Anyhow, I was driving through Buellton last night and I stopped in for some of my Santa Maria seasoning that only they seem to sell (in the gift shop). They no longer sell it. I stopped here for nothing, great. As I pondered my hunger level and what my next move should be, I saw a menu opened up on the hostess stand. Hmm, I see you can dress up your soup with ham, cheese, or onions for $2.50/serving over the already stout $8.95 price tag on the 'Traveler's Special'... That's a lot for soup, bread and a milkshake.
Then I see they have a 'bread-bowl' version which is only $8.50 but it comes with the toppings on the side..and no drink. Has this been on the menu all along...how could I have missed it? Why not I figured...I'm not that hungry and if it sucks I'll know for next time. With that I saddled up to the counter, where it's always a good show, and I sheepishly ordered it. I say sheepishly because the bread-bowl anything is usually slapped together for the tourists and lacking in just about every sense of the word. They've got none on display and nobody else has one in front of them. It was a risk but, whatever, I ordered it..it's coming... so that's that. I've been watching the girls ladling the soup out of the big pot...it's one ladle per standard ceramic bowl. Nothing spectacular. Then my girl comes around the corner from the kitchen with what looks like a small pumpkin shaped loaf of bread. She's got the top off like a jack o' lantern and the innards neatly carved out as a one-piece round ball. I see her roll over to the big pot and ladle out two scoops of the soup right into the opening. While I'm processing this she swings by the kitchen for a plate of the different toppings to go with my steaming gord of soup. I said as she approached 'you have got to be kidding'. It was HUGE. A joke, right? Nope. Upon closer inspection I see that the lid and 'innard ball' were brushed in butter and grilled to a light toasting. Oh boy, I am feeling this now. I got hungry and scared all in the same moment.

The sourdough bowl was fresh with just the right bite, texture and warmth. It was right out of the oven pillowy perfection. The soup was spot-on and when I dropped the ham bits in there I heard music. It got more impressive with every bite and I could custom make layers given the 5 different toppings. It was thick and alive with flavor and satisfaction. I got about 2/3rds though the thing...bursting...and my girl comes by to say 'let me know when you want more hun'. No way, no w-a-y is she serious. After a while, the show wound down and I paid my bill only to have her say 'you should come by on Fridays and try the chowder in that bowl, it's the best I've ever had.' She knows food, I can tell, so this bread bowl fantasy show they're running is firmly on my radar when I'm up that way. I can't recommend this enough if you like split pea soup.

Hit the road people, it's all out there and some of it is damn fine.