Crafting a list of “bests” is a curious experience — an exercise in the fun and games of culinary calisthenics and contradictions. The list is based on food … and not based on food. It’s based on buzz … and not based on buzz. It’s based on vibe … and not based on vibe. It’s based on price … and not based on price. I don’t even know if it’s based on my choice of Best Restaurants, Best Meals or simply Best Dishes.
What I do know is this: The following are the restaurants I’d return to in a heartbeat. They’re the places I’d gladly take my fellow eaters, heavy forks every one of them. They’re where I’d want to take my foodie daughter when she drops into town. They’re the places I rave about while eating at lesser eateries, dreaming of suddenly finding myself in one of my places of choice.
They also made me happy, in what Charles Dickens referred to as, “the best of times … the worst of times … the season of light … the season of darkness.” They’re the places that — with a fork and a napkin, a sizzle and a sauce — gave me joy. I could, and I can always find solace throwing myself into a good meal.
I’ve written about restaurants for a long time. And I never — never! — lose that sense of excitement when going to someplace new (or when introducing a good eater to a madcap discovery).
We are blessed to live in a part of the world where food is never dull. Where Kraft Mac ’n’ Cheese is a punchline — unless it’s made with porchetta and trumpet mushrooms. And our local chefs do wondrous things with tater tots. Eating well is always a bright light in a world where darkness lurks around the edges.
What restaurants gave me much happiness over the past year? Bear with me while I recall every bite:
Restaurant of the year
Lima Cebicheria Peruana
3851 Atlantic Ave., Long Beach (Bixby Knolls); 562-247-1418; www.instagram.com/limacebicheriaperuana/?hl=en
The portions of ceviche, served at Lima Cebicheria Peruana, just down the street from the legendary Jongewaard’s Bake ’n’ Broil in Bixby Knolls, are considerable — more than enough that most folks leaving are carrying a container for lunch the next day. Or, in my case, a somewhat eccentric breakfast.
But it’s the sort of dish that also inspires competitions to create the largest ceviche. The record now belongs to a group of professors and students at the Universidad Tecnológica de Manzanillo. They filled a swimming pool with more than 12 tons of tuna, onions, chiles, cilantro, tomatoes and lime juice. College kids used to stuff themselves into phone booths and VW Bugs. I guess ceviche is at least edible.
As big as the portions are at Lima Cebicheria Peruana, the menu is decidedly small, focused on doing a handful of dishes very well. The first section on the menu is headed “Piqueos” — which literally means “pecking.” It refers to appetizers … snacks. Which these dishes definitely are not.
The choritos à la chalaca is a big tray, covered with ice, on top of which half a dozen very large mussels rest, each topped with chopped red onions, cilantro, the jumbo kernel Peruvian corn called choclo, the toasted corn nuts called cancha, and the marinade called leche de tigre (tiger’s milk). It’s a very substantial portion, enough for two.
There’s more: the mashed potato and seafood dish called causa “Lima” especial. The fish and seafood pater known as jalea mixto. The marinated octopus creation called pulpo a la parrilla.
Move to the main dishes — Platos de Fondo — and there’s stir-fried beef tenderloin (lomo saltado), seafood and rice (arroz con mariscos), and Chinese fried rice done Peruvian-style (chaufa de mariscos), a remarkable transliteration of a dish we know so well, and don’t really know at all.
And then, there are the four ceviches — made with either the fish of the day alone, or mixed with shrimp, mussels, octopus and more. The ceviche comes El Pescador (Clasico) style, flavored with leche de tigre, cancha, choclo and some especially soothing slices of sweet potato. El Chalaco ups the ante with some seriously spicy rocoto peppers mixed with the leche. The pepper in the La Sirena is aji amarillo, which is a tad milder.
And finally, the Leche de Tigre comes with a topping of crispy calamari. Which sounds wrong — and tastes amazing. The soft fish with crunchy calamari is a joy, not just in terms of taste, but obviously in terms of texture.
The pizza oven at L’antica Pizzeria Da Michele in Long Beach is a work of art — and also turns out some pretty tasty pizzas, says restaurant critic Merrill Shindler. (Photo by Merrill Shindler)
Other restaurants of note
L’Antica Pizzeria Da Michele
4621 E. 2nd St., Long Beach (Belmont Shore); 562-248-2320, www.damicheleusa.com/belmontshore
The authenticity of L’Antica Pizzeria Da Michele begins with its name, which does not follow in the form of a Mario’s and a Domenico’s.
This is a pizza chain with roots that go back to 1870, when it was founded by Michele Conduro in Naples. The original location has been described as a “Sacred temple of pizza.” And for the past century and a half, it’s spread from Naples to New York, Santa Barbara, Hollywood and most recently to Belmont Shore, where it sits in a spacious location at the western edge of 2nd Street, just at the cusp of the Shore and Long Beach proper.
Pizza is actually a small part of the menu, though undeniably a dominant one — there’s hardly a table in the space that isn’t consuming a pie. In a city of SoCal-style pies running amuck at Spago and California Pizza Kitchen, and pies with sweet fruit toppings most everywhere, L’Antica is admirably old school. There are just eight pies, all available in one size, with not a topping here that would lift an eyebrow over there.
This is not the land of anchovies and pineapple. Instead, the cheese runs to pecorino, parmigiano, fior di latte and burrata. Added to that is tomato, basil, oregano, garlic, arugula, prosciutto, black olives, ham, artichokes and mushrooms.
For those of us accustomed to pizzas that push the edge with peanut butter, figs, green peas and pickled jalapeños, french fries and kale, these classics come as a breath of simplicity. L’Antica makes old school turn into new school all over again.
And though the pizzas may dominate the menu, they’re far from all there is. The appetizers are an essential part of the L’Antica experience. The menu features some of the best fritto misto in town — a plate of properly crispy calamari, shrimp, zucchini and sliced fennel with a middling zippy arrabbiata sauce.
There are irresistible tempura-battered zucchini flowers stuffed with ricotta cheese, with a side of roasted tomatoes and burrata cheese. Mozzarella arrives covered with breadcrumbs, oregano and pecorino and fried till crispy. The meatballs are a meal in and of themselves. Take them home for later.
Olive & Rose in Long Beach delivers a casually extraordinary dining experience on the ground floor of a centrally located motel. (Photo by Merrill Shindler)
Olive & Rose
City Center Motel, 255 Atlantic Ave., Long Beach; 562-825-8009; https://oliveandroselb.com
You want to eat at Olive & Rose, it’s best to score a reservation (at least for dinner). You want to sit at one of the five seats at the counter with its view of chefs cooking aged rib cap au poivre, chicken with foraged mushrooms or wild striped bass with cauliflower puree, you definitely must have a reservation; those are probably the hardest seats in the house to score a place at.
The handful of tables on the outdoor patio next to the pool may be more accessible. But when summer comes, that likely will change. And the menu served out there is a fraction of the inside menu — kind of a bar menu without a bar.
Speaking of the menu, it does an impressive job of mixing the Dishes of the Moment, with twists and turns all its own. The simplest of the appetizers are olives flavored with lemon and rosemary, and a plate of thickly cut bread with sweet butter that taste like butter — one of the oft little-noticed culinary trends of the age where both bread and butter have gone from being filler to being a dish worth paying attention to. A plate of tasty mindfulness.
But of course, the dish that grabbed me was the bowl of Saltspring Mussels in a dashi beurre blanc broth. They should properly be called Saltspring Island Mussels, for Saltspring Island sits in Canada’s British Columbia, where a hybrid mussel has been cultured that’s referred to as “pump and sweet.” It lives up to its hype. These are wonderful mussels, with no empties in the bowl.
Dashi is Japanese stock made from fish and kelp. This is seafood served in a seafood broth. The butter is a bonus. The appetizers continue through an Iberico pork plate, amberjack crudo with cucumbers and grapes, endives with dates and wonderful Humboldt Fog cheese, octopus with potato and pimento.
But I needed the beef tartare, which I love as much as mussels, served with cornichons and garlic aioli. Like the mussels, this is a dish that isn’t disguised beneath an excess of flask and filigree. This is beef tartare in its essential state, a treat for a hardcore carnivore, meat that’s just meat and nothing else. Except maybe for some seeds mixed in, to give the mash a bit more unexpected crackle.
Sunny on South in Cerritos serves breakfast (and lunch) from superstar chef Thomas Ortega. Expect lots of egg dishes, plus breakfast specials with a twist, says restaurant critic Merrill Shindler. (Photo by Merrill Shindler)
Sunny on South
Cerritos Plaza South, 13351 South St., Cerritos; 562-202-3503; www.sunnyonsouth.com
At restaurants like Amor y Tacos, Amorcito, Taco Chica Taqueria, and the late lamented Playa Amor, Long Beach master chef Thomas Ortega has proved himself a master of the taco, the chile relleno, mole sauce, chicken and seafood. The flavors of Mexico define him; chef Ortega is a man who knows his salsa, who understands the deeper meaning of tortillas.
Which is why Sunny on South — his casual indoor/outdoor breakfast and lunch spot in Cerritos Plaza South — comes as such a surprise. For although it’s not without Mexican dishes, it’s at heart a classic American breakfast and lunch joint. Or, to be more precise, classic and modern chef quirky.
Buttermilk pancakes with syrup and butter we know … short rib birria Benedict, we know not so well. But as with most everything chef Ortega makes, it’s well worth knowing. His culinary challenges are always worth diving into.
Despite having to deal with a menu of some 70 dishes, the kitchen at Sunny has their process down pat; dishes come marching across the patio with admirable speed. This is not a restaurant where you gaze with envy at the Bosshog Scramble (three eggs, Portuguese sausage, ham, breakfast sausage, cheddar cheese) occupying an adjacent table because your order of Big Ern’s Corned Beef Hash is on its way.
The dishes here revel in their oversized … messiness. Indeed, there’s a plate called Nana’s Breakfast Mess, which feels like something made by tossing random ingredients into a pan — and coming up with a breakfast miracle of sorts — scrambled eggs, cheddar cheese, ham, peppers, onions and breakfast potatoes, topped with sausage gravy and chives. (And yes, chives do seem like the odd man out here. They offer a sort of elegance to a largely inelegant … mess. But what the heck … in for a penny, etc.)
Part of a global chain of upscale Spanish restaurants, Telefèric Barcelona 1992 in Long Beach serves a signature selection of paellas and numerous tapas, says restaurant critic Merrill Shindler. Plus many, many wines. (Photo by Merrill Shindler)
Telefèric Barcelona 1992
2nd & PCH, 6420 Pacific Coast Hwy., Long Beach; 657-366-4103; www.telefericbarcelona.com
For me, a lifelong grazer, tapas are the finest accomplishment of the Spanish kitchen, ahead even of the wonders of paella. They’re the Iberian equivalent of sushi and dim sum — meals cobbled together of a multitude of small dishes, variant tastes, cooking that never turns dull. Every bite is a joy worth looking forward to.
And indeed, notably, the list of tapas is the longest page on the menu at Telefèric Barcelona 1992. There are oysters, served singularly at $5 each, flavored with “mojito vibes.” The menu isn’t always that poetic. But occasionally it is. Another tapa is the paella “bomb,” which is an arancino rice ball of paella rice with a shrimp bisque inside. It’s a bit like Chinese soup dumplings — though not nearly that hot inside.
There are touches of modernism as well; the crab croquetas are topped with tuna sashimi. There’s a tuna taco of ahi and avocado inside a wonton shell. Beef skewers come with a tomato hummus. But most of the tapas are the hardcore original.
Is there a tapas bar in Spain that doesn’t offer gambas al ajillo — in this case with lemon zest and the crunch of crispy garlic? The patatas bravas are crispy as ever, topped with a spicy brava sauce and aioli. The jamon Iberico de Bellota is cured for 38 months. The ham is from pigs who were fed acorns. Can you taste the difference? Darned if I know. But it’s an impressive selling point.
And don’t miss the classic pan con tomate — toasted bread topped with chorizo butter and tomato. So simple. And so good.
If you want to get more serious, then head for the paellas, which serve two, and take 90 minutes to prepare. The word “paella” refers not to the dish of rice with seafood, chicken, meat, vegetables and many spices. But to the wide low pan with handles in which the rice is cooked.
Walk through any outdoor market in Spain, and you’ll see stands piled high with paella pans of every width, ranging from cute little one-person pans, to those big enough to feed extended families and tag-along friends as well. In this case, the pans are technically for two, but they’re easily large enough for four.
The most classic (for me, at least) is the paella mixta, with pork, chicken, gulf shrimp and octopus — a culinary bestiary. The least expected is the paella negra, which is blackened with squid ink, and made with shrimp, scallops, octopus and clams. The ink gives the rice a funky, salty flavor that’s hard to resist.
The menu mentions you can “elevate your paella experience by asking for ‘soccarat,’ the caramelized crispy rice that adheres to the pan’s bottom.” It’s like Persian tahdig. It’s a great option.
Merrill Shindler is a Los Angeles-based freelance dining critic. Email mreats@aol.com.