Handcuffed at Nancy's House, Alas, Not By Her

'Freeze! Put your hands up!' Oh, sorry 

At home, watching TV -- then an erroneous 911 call leads to a brief, tense encounter with the LAPD.

Los Angeles Times Op/Ed September 09, 2009 by Michael Krikorian

I was at my girlfriend Nancy's home in Hancock Park. She was out with a friend, and her 15-year-old son, Oliver, and I had just finished eating our superb 10:30 p.m. dinner -- al pastor tacos from the truck on 3rd Street and Normandie. He had gone upstairs to go to bed. The next day would be the first day of school after summer vacation.

I was watching a recorded episode of "Entourage" when Zeke, our golden retriever mix, got up and looked out the thick wood-and-glass front door. Now, this dog barks like an Akita on angel dust, wailing plaintively when anybody comes up the sidewalk, unless its family. So I thought it must be Nancy.

I looked out the front door and noticed a spotlight on our yard. I heard a helicopter. I opened the door, went out to investigate and closed the door so Zeke wouldn't get out.

"Freeze!"

"Put your hands up!" yelled another voice. "Put your hands up over your head. Now!"

I turned in the direction of the voices and said, "Are you talking to me?" I actually said that. And I meant it. Were they talking to me? Yes.

"Put your hands over your head!"

I did.

"Lock your fingers on top of your head."

I did. I couldn't really see them because the bright flashlights nearly blinded me, but it had to be the cops.

"Turn and face the door." I did, and then I had a frightful thought. Maybe it's not the police. Maybe it's some elaborate plan by a street gang to kill me. I have reported on street gangs for more than a decade and amassed a deadly share of enemies. I took a quick look at the invaders and could see they had police uniforms. No gang I ever reported on would go to that much trouble to kill me.

"Turn around and start backing toward me."

I marveled at how calm I was. I thought, "Just do as they say." Just do as they say. We all have heard stories in which the guy resists and gets roughed up or worse.

I backed down the three steps of the porch to the driveway, where I bumped into Nancy's car, parked with the top down. I got a closer look at the gendarmes: five uniformed LAPD officers with guns at the ready, including a policewoman who sadly bore no resemblance to Angie Dickinson in her TV cop days. Pepper Anderson could cuff me all night. The most impressive thing about this policewoman was the pump shotgun she was holding.

I hoped Roger, our next-door neighbor, had a video camera and was watching. This could go Rodney.

I was led next to the giant ficus tree in Roger's frontyard and was tightly handcuffed. Well, the cuffs weren't overly tight. I've been in overly tight cuffs in the past.

And that is why I wasn't all that upset, why I was so calm. Every other time in my life that I had been handcuffed -- and there have been several -- I was guilty of something. Here, I knew I had done nothing wrong. Not unless I was unaware that buying tacos at the truck on 3rd and Normandie was some sort of felony now.

"Spread your legs!" I did. "Wider." I did. "Do you have a weapon?" No. I was frisked.

"What are you doing here?"

"I live here. What's going on?" I asked. No answer.

It was like I had a good view of that bad show, "Cops."

There were three cops, guns still drawn, on the front porch, yelling and scrambling about as if John Dillinger were in the house. I told them Oliver was the only person at home and asked if they could call the house and let me speak to him so he wouldn't freak out. They called; he finally answered, and they talked to him.

After a few minutes, he came out. I yelled at the police -- for the first time -- to put their guns down. Oliver looked stunned.

He later told me his first thought was: "What did Michael do?" He had heard all the commotion but thought it was some TV show I was watching.

Finally, after what seemed liked an hour -- but was really about 10 to 12 minutes -- the cops were informed via radio that they had received the wrong street address. A woman down the block had heard a bang at her back door, thought someone was breaking in and called 911 to report it. In her panic, she reversed the last two numbers of the address. She gave them my address. So the cops were waiting to storm the house when I walked out to see what was going on. (The next day, the woman apologized profusely to me.)

A second policewoman, Officer Solley -- not the shotgun wielder -- was fairly pleasant. She apologized and kept saying, "You understand what happened and why it happened, right?"

Yeah, sure. You all messed up.

But I also thought about all the black friends of mine who have been stopped and harassed over the years for doing nothing wrong at all. This is what it was like. Being in the wrong place. In this case, at home. I was angry, but not outraged. I wondered how many people got handcuffed for nothing at Nickerson Gardens over the years? How many at Jordan Downs? Then Oliver said, "At least I'll have a good story to tell for 'what I did on my summer vacation.' "

As for Zeke, who barks furiously at the mailman, the gardener, the walkers, the joggers, even other dogs like they are all aliens from "District 9" -- but was quiet as Marcel Marceau in my hour of need -- well, let's just say that porterhouse bone I got for him is going to stay in the freezer for a while. I might even heat it up and gnaw on it while he watches.

Like just about everything in life, it could have been a whole lot worse. Oliver told his mother the story when she came home 20 minutes later, adding his what-could-have-happened, worst-case scenario.

"You know how you yell at Zeke when he barks a lot? How about if you were cutting a bagel in half and walked outside to see what was going on, and you had the knife in your hand and were yelling to Zeke 'Shut up!' " Only he suggested I might have added a four-letter word as I shouted.

I guess if that had happened, you would have heard all about this on the news already. Maybe the president will have me and that shotgun lady cop over for a beer at the White House.

###

Michael Krikorian covered street gangs and the LAPD for The Times. He recently completed his first crime novel, "The Southside of L.A.," and a children's book, "The Sunflower Who Loved the Moon."

http://articles.latimes.com/print/2009/sep/09/opinion/oe-krikorian9

40 Ounces Are Missing; My Eating Life With Nancy and Ruth

This week I lost two and a half pounds. Not those easy water pounds that leak out, but entrenched, tenacious, no-surrender ounces that died struggling to the end, every single one of them pleading with me to let them stay just one more day and then they'd go peacefully. Liars.

Losing a couple pounds plus - 40 ounces - is usually not worth mentioning, but, the thing here is I lost that weight living with Nancy Silverton and Ruth Riechl. 

I lost that weight living with Nancy, a woman who, as the midnight hour nears, urges me to go to the kitchen of PIzzeria Mozza and have staff pizza "so you won't complain there's nothing to eat when we get home."

I lost that weight living with Ruth. who buys me $11 pints of Portland's Salt & Straw ice cream in pairs, so when I open the freezer - as I do 20 times a day minimum - the first thing I sight is a red and white-topped container that tempts with the words "Sea Salt Ice Cream with Caramel Ribbon".

I lost those 40 ounces living with a woman who calls five days a week, 20 minutes past noon, telling me "staff meal today is chicken thighs" , which she knows is one of my 40 weaknesses.. I could be in the "Folsom Lot" at the Nickersons, but that call beckons me north.  

I lost that kilo living with Ruth, a woman who has Churchill Orchard's Fed Ex 10 pounds of Kishu Mandarins (What I call "li'l tangerines") to the house. Tangerines, you say, aren't fattening. Even if you eat 15 a day? Ain't those things loaded up with sugar? Tastes like it.

I lost that deuce and a half  with reminders of food scattered about the house like Fruit Town crack dealers saying "psssst" in a Cherry Street alley. An advance copy of Ruth's upcoming novel, "Delicious!",  rests on the living room table surrounded by the latest issues of food magazines.  A Zip Lock of almond toffee our friend Ellen made lays in wait by the kitchen sink. Three gold-wrapped packages of Rudolphe Le Meunier's butter  - sent UPS to the house by Josiah Citrin - are on display in a see-through compartment of the frig door. 

I lost those 40 ounces trying out flour and corn tortillas across East Los and Boyle Heights for a party Sunday where the star guests were four nine-hour low-temped pork shoulders and a barrel of beans with bacon.

Yeah, I lost that weight. But, how? Man, I don't even know. But, thanks to Nancy and Ruth. I'm pretty sure I'll find them real soon. 

New Chefs Tired of Same Old "Top Restaurants in USA" Lists

Accustomed to always seeing the French Laundry in Yountville, La Azteca Tortilleria in East Los Angeles and Alinea in Chicago on the lists of America's greatest restaurants., some new breed chefs are calling for a guidebook that will focus on dining establishments under three years old. 

"La Azteca, the French Laundry, Alinea Terra, Le Bernardin, Quince, Del Posto these places are great, but everyone knows that, so they end up just taking up space on these lists of America's best restaurants, " said William "Change Only " Penderson, whose eponymous bistro just outside of Kalamazoo has garnered raves reviews, but no national attention.  "Give the new guys some recognition."

Penderson, and many other chefs applaud the efforts of Food  & Wine's "10 Best New Chefs" issue, but complain, probably out of jealously, that the same "supper" stars are in every issue of every food magazine  

"You pick up any food magazine and chances are the Villa family from La Azteca in East L.A., or Thomas Keller and one of his chefs from the French Laundry or Per Se, or some Joel Robuchon alumni will be featured," said Cardella "Backpack" Brown, whose "Juicy Rumps" in Camden, NJ, is considered the   "Hood " restaurant in the country.  

"I love those places, I do. Last week I finally got into La Azteca and it was fantastic," Backpack Brown said. "I had the best - and simpliest - carne asada burrito on the best flour tortilla I have ever eaten.  Five bucks and 50 cent! And a chile relleno that made me see the importance of the New Relleno Movement. Daughter Cynthia is charming the front of the house, son Chris, too. Mom Candy and dad Juan in the kitchen cooking. Like the first time i went to the French Laundry, it lived up to the hype. but everybody knows La Azteca is great.  Let some us newcomers get in on the sunshine."

###

The French Laundry is at 6640 Washington Street, Yountville, California. 94599 (707) 944-2380. Call for hours. Drive-through on Friday and Saturday nights only. 

La Azteca Tortilleria is at 4538 E. Cesar Chavez Ave., Los Angeles, Calif. 90022 ( 323) 262-5977. Open Tuesday - Sunday 6 a.m. to 3:30 p.m.. 

Alinea is at 1723 N. Halsted Street, Chicago, Ill. 60614 (312) 867-0110 Call for hours. Red, purple, blue and orange hoodies not allowed.

Terra is at 1345 Railroad Ave., St Helena, Calif.  94574  (707) 963-8931. Diners ordering bone-in steaks Must claim bone before owner Lissa Doumani does.

Change Only is at 321 W. Dickman Road, Battle Creek Michigan. No phone. Restaurant does not accept credit cards, dollar bills or wrapped coins. Loose change only.

Juicy Rumps is at 89 Main Street Camden, New Jersey. Open 24 hours. No phone  

Main dining room of La Azteca, 

Portland's Salt & Straw Ice Cream Victorious at The Forum

"We now go LIVE to The Forum in Inglewood where Martell "Three Scoops" Hauser is standing by with breaking news on tonight's big showdown between two of the West Coast's top ice creams. Three Scoops?"

Cut To: Martell Hauser standing in front of The Forum.

"Walter, the battle between "The Portland Punisher", Salt & Straw's Sea Salt Ice Cream with Caramel Ribbon against Sweet Rose Creamery's Salted Caramel was billed as the first big match of 2014, but, in the end. the Punisher lived up to his name, besting the Los Angeles contender in  several key categories, including caramel explosiveness, temptation. depth of flavor, saltiness and balance. A tour de force for Salt and Straw."

Cut to a Close Up : A fork going into the pint of S & S, Portland's much-heralded, now-nationally acclaimed ice cream, slowly twirling amid the caramel ripple and pulling out a white and gold-veined mound of lusciousness.

Hauser, Voice Over - "It was a masterful performance by the Portland ice cream company which started in 2011 by cousins Kim and Tyler Malek.  The popular Sweet Rose came out to the wild cheers of locals. but it was clear early on. that, as fine an ice cream as she is, the Punisher was too much."

Cut To Hauser.  He walks up to an excited - and clearly drunk -  man among the throngs exiting the Forum. "What did you think of the fight tonight?"

Fan. "Salt and Straw was overpowering. Deep flavor! You feel me? Deeeeeep!  I think he could be one of the great ones. For a packaged pint of ice cream, I think this coldsta' is going to be hard to beat. The Punisher!" 

"Hauser - "Would you like to see a dream fight with Salt & Straw's Caramel Ribbon going against Salty Peanut Butter from Pizzeria Mozza Newport Beach?"

Fan - (Suddenly, subdued, even analytical) "Yes, I would. Any ice cream fan, any gelato fan would, but, in the end, Salty is Formula One. and it wouldn't be a fair fight. But, for packaged Ice cream, i think Salty and Straw is the best thing going."

Hauser -  "I agree. Even at $11 a pint. Live from The Forum, this is Martell "Three Scoops" Hauser."

Just as the camera cuts away. a woman in a Sweet Rose Creamery T- Shirt takes a wild punch at Hauser. 

Cut To - The Studio and anchor Walter Black. "It's getting crazy at the Forum. I really do like Sweet Rose, but I'll have to get some of that Portland stuff."  

###

Salt & Straw Ice Cream  http://www.saltandstraw.com/index.php  is getable in Los Angeles at Joan's On Third"  ( http://www.joansonthird.com/ ) which is at 8350 W. 3d Street (east of La Cienega and west of Noodles Stories ) in Los Angeles.

Some of the other S & S flavors they might be lined up next to Sea Salt Ice Cream with Caramel Ribbon are Grandma Malek's Almond Brittle with Salted Ganache, Honey Balsamic Cherry with Cracked  Pepper, Chocolate with Gooey Brownies and Pear with Blue Cheese. Not that again! 

(A good house guest turn me on to S & S's Caramel Ribbon based on a tip for Sarah St. Lifer, the patron saint of prison inmates,)

Sweet Rose's newest store is at 7565 W. Beverly Boulevard, (about a mile northeast of Noodle Stories.)  http://www.sweetrosecreamery.com/   A pint here is $9.  Ryan Di Niccola, sous chef at Chi Spacca, raves about the Caramel Apple Granola (CAG) ice cream of Sweet Rose Creamery. A possible match between the CAG and the Punisher could be in the works. Many SRC loyalists were upset with the outcome tonight. But, that Sweet Rose's Salted Caramel even went one-on-one with the Punisher, that the match drew a sell out crowd at the Forum, that it was licked, even in defeat, is a statement of its goodness.  

Photo taken fro outer space of Salt and Straw's Sea Salt Ice Cream with Caramel Ribbons 

Orange Shoes May Have Led To Man's Shooting Death

"Why you got to keep wearing these shoes?" Leo Cisneros would ask his dear friend John Matthews, who had recently taken to wearing orange-trimmed Nikes. "He said they were a Christmas gift, but I told him not to wear them. You know what orange is 'round here, right?"

Orange "'round here" -- 89th and Vermont Avenue in Westmont where Matthews, 36, was shot and killed Wednesday night - is the color of the Hoover Street Criminals. Street sources suspected the shooter may have mistaken Matthews for a rival Hoover because of those orange shoes.

"People get mistaken around here all the time," said another friend of Matthews, Garry King.

Matthews, a handyman who was on his way to see his two young children, had apparently stopped to talk to a security guard at the 88th Street Temple Church of God in Christ when they where approached by a lone black man.

"The suspect walked up, said something to the two victims, then began firing," said Los Angeles County Sheriff's Lt. Dave Coleman, adding the shooting appeared to be unprovoked. Matthews was fatally wounded and the security guard was critically injured. As of early Thursday evening, no one had been arrested, but the many surveillance cameras in the area may provide detectives with valuable clues. 

After being shot, the guard, "Johnny", ran about 70 yards north into the church's parking lot before he collapsed. He was conscious and telling a church worker that he had "been hit." Thursday afternoon, a large blood stain remained in the parking lot.

"This is community here is the hottest, most dangerous in the city," said the church's pastor, Anthony Williams. "We need help."

In the bloody gutter of the sidewalk where Matthews was mortally wounded, a lone murder candle lay, smeared red.  Five feet away was the common Southside site of a makeshift memorial where, next to more - upright - murder candles, friends had placed a small. empty bottle of Hennessy cognac.

"We drank that bottle together at our Super Bowl  party," said Cisneros, smiling sadly.

"Yeah," chimed in King, "We invited all these people over for the Super Bowl, made all this food, barbequed chicken. but it was just us three at the party. It was great."

King said he had only known Matthews for two years, but they were like long-lost brothers. "When I met him, I had one of those feelings like "Where have you been?"

"Little Miss Salty" To File Lawsuit Against Angeleno Magazine

Calling it "beyond insulting", lawyers for Butterscotch Budino said they would file a Federal "Defamation of Character" lawsuit against Angeleno Magazine’s “Modern Luxury Digital Edition” for listing the Pizzeria Mozza legend as the 67th best dish in Los Angeles. 

Adding insult to one of America’s most beloved desserts, affectionately known as “Little Miss Salty”, was that a cousin, Chi Spacca’s Tomahawk Chop, was listed #1 of the city’s 101 “Must Try Tastes” by the online edition.

"We're happy for Tomahawk Chop’s recognition,” said Budino spokesman Duke Feldmeier. “Tom’s a good dude and he’s worked hard to be a champ. And I’ll raise a glass to Chad and Ryan and the whole staff there, too. But, to list Little Miss Salty as 67th?! That’s tantamount to saying we’re overrated. That’s sum bullshit.”

Mozza owner Nancy Silverton threatened to immediately pull Little Miss Salty off both the Pizzeria and Mozza2Go menus.

“I’m not going to have the 67th best dish, or, really, the 34th worst good dish in the city on my menu,” said Silverton, who added that replicas and even straight-out copycats of her and pastry chef Dahlia Narvaez’s budino (pudding) are served at more than 185 countries worldwide, most recently Namibia, Ceylon, Burkina Faso and Arizona.

News that the “close-your-eyes” good, “ooooh”-inspiring budino would be removed from the menu sent Wall Street into a tizzy and prices soaring for the dessert. As we went to print, the price for a single order of Butterscotch Budino was $475, exorbitant for some, but well within the budget for most Angeleno subscribers.

Silverton said the only consolation was that the 65th “must try” dish was the storied #19 pastrami w/coleslaw sandwich at Langer’s Deli.  “Maybe being in the rollin 60s is the best part of the list. You feel me?”

Two of the most acclaimed restaurants in the city, Melisse and Providence faired only slightly better than Pizzeria Mozza. Melisse chef Josiah Citrin’s  rotisserie chicken (with black truffles stuffed under its skin) came in 49th and Providence chef Michael Cimarusti’s “Chowda” ( a fancy clam chowder) came in 52nd.   

(For the ranking record, the grilled octopus at Osteria Mozza was listed 39th.)

Meanwhile, at Mozza’s “Magic Kingdom” corner of Highland and Melrose, there was jubilation at Chi Spacca for Tomahawk’s number one rating. When asked what the staff did to celebrate after hearing the news, General Manager Theresa Gluck said “We got tore up. Had a blast, if i remember correctly.”

Spacca's assistant manager Kate Blue gave Gluck a hard side-five and the two yelled "We're number one!" 

On the legal front, lawyers for Little Miss Salty are expected to formally files papers Monday morning at the United States Courthouse in the Edward R. Roybal Federal Building on Temple Street.  

Spokesman Feldmeier urged fans of Butterscotch Budino to come to the courthouse and show their support. "Little Miss Sunshine's been through a lot this week," Feldmeier said. "A show of love would be much appreciated."

##

Butterscotch Budino Recipe

http://www.latimes.com/food/dailydish/la-dd-butterscotch-budino-20131019,0,2464049.story#axzz2s6mXa5PT

Texted recipe of Tomahawk Chop from Chad Colby

"Double bone pork chop with all of the belly attached, Salt pepper fennel seed - grilled for 45 minutes -served mid rare with the belly chops charred through  (Easily #1)"

For a listing of the 101 dishes, try this; http://www.modernluxury.com/angeleno/digital-edition

"Southside" Gets Outstanding Review From Mystery Scene Mag

"Michael Krikorian introduces Michael Lyons, a Sinatra-loving, hard-drinkingLos Angeles Times reporter, in his debut novel, Southside. Lyons is fearless when it comes to interacting with gangbangers. That is until he's on his way to meet with King Funeral, leader of the Hoover Criminals, one of LA's deadliest gangs. Only two blocks from City Hall a middle-aged black man steps from a car, a purple Grape Street Crips rag on his head, shotgun in hand. He shoots Lyons in broad daylight, wounding him. Within minutes the newsroom is taking bets on who shot him. He's made enemies over the years, mostly members of the street gangs he writes about, but also the husbands of women he's taken a fancy to. When the LAPD doesn't appear to be putting a lot of effort into finding Lyons' assailant, the Los Angeles Times publishes a scathing editorial. Then an audio tape surfaces of Lyons arranging his own shooting with King Funeral. His cred is gone. Embarrassed, the LA Times fires him. In order to vindicate himself-he and Funeral were only joking around, he protests-Lyons scours Southside Los Angeles to discover who shot him and why. When three seemingly unrelated killings take place, Lyons begins putting the pieces together and finds the common denominator-a shot caller named Big Evil, a prisoner at California's maximum security prison Pelican Bay.

This is a nitty-gritty, down-and-dirty story of what really goes down on the gang-ridden streets of Southside Los Angeles. Krikorian's voice is authentic. Born in LA, he's not only written gang pieces for the Los Angeles TimesandNew York Times, but has lived in gang neighborhoods. He readily admits the well-plottedSouthside is heavily autobiographical with him in the Michael Lyons role, and that many of the other characters are people he knows; he writes letters and sends books to many old acquaintances who are incarcerated. Through his gang characters-Big Evil, Terminal, Poison Rat, and Lil Mayhem among others-Krikorian brings the mean streets to life; and through their parents, he shows the grief of being incapable of saving children from the war on the streets. Southside is powerful, aside from an overabundance of minor characters, and is the first in a series of four, centering on Los Angeles. The next novel, already in the works, is Westside, to be followed by Northside andEastside."

https://mysteryscenemag.com/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=3399%3Asouthside&catid=26%3Abooks&Itemid=185

"Dangerous" Salted French Butter Is Despised By Its American Peers

Despite the fancy gold packaging with its elegant flowing script, despite the cute, raised imprint of a cow atop its bright McLaren Yellow disc, and despite the unabashed praise from Los Angeles’ finest chefs calling it the best butter available in America,  Buerre de Barrate from Rudolphe Le Meunier is not a solution.

No, this non-violently churned, fermented cream French butter from Normandy, as delicious as it tastes, is a problem.

"This butter is dangerous," says novelist Ruth Reichl, who is staying at the house I live in and is perhaps best known as the wife of former CBS News producer Michael Singer.  "With a loaf of bread, I could go through all of this butter."

As Ruth, a former newspaper restaurant critic, goes on  - she likes the unsalted more -  and on about my butter, -I'm thinking "Great. I finally get this exclusive butter and Nancy has to have a butterholic move in.  I'll probably end up having to stash this stuff in the crisper, under some celery.”

The Buerre de Baratte from Rudolphe Le Meunier came to me from the generous Josiah Citrin, chef owner of the Michelin two-star Melisse in Santa Monica.  His chef de cuisine, Ken Takayama, had told me they were now using this butter, so I emailed Josiah who promptly sent me three 250 gram discs, two of them salted.

"This is the best butter in America," Citrin said. “It has a funky umami flavor. We glaze fish and lobster with it as well as bake scallops with it. We also use it soft to brush on meats and fish before serving. The salted is for bread.”

(Note: Repeated efforts to find out what “umami flavor” actually is were unsuccessful>)

“It’s the same butter as Walter is using,” Josiah says.

Walter is Walter Manske of Republique who first told me about this butter in December. My boy Walt can talk. He started in on the Buerre de Baratte and I thought I might be here a while. Did I put enough in the La Brea Avenue parking meter?  But, then, suddenly, he handed me four  golfball-sized, plastic-wrapped salted butters.  With his wife Margarita's baguette, it was the combo.

The day before the butter arrived, Nancy, lunching at Connie and Ted’s, asked chef Michael Cimarusti, who owns the Michelin two-star Providence, about the butter. He raved, too.

“It tastes like butter is supposed to taste like,” Cimarusti says. “You know he won the MOF.”

“He” is this French cheesemonger Rudolph (aka Rudy) Le Meunier and the “MOF” is the coveted - and nearly impossible to pronounce – Un Des Meilleurs Ouvriers de France – an award given out every four years to the best craftsmen in France. (For the record, that Ruth lady pronounces it flawlessly and, I may add, rather smugly, though she does have a terrifically infectious smile when she says it.) Rudy, who won the MOF in 2007,  doesn’t actually make the butter, but, as an affineur,  gets the goods from farmers in Normandy, the seat of butter power.

Alex Brown, the general manager  and cheesemonger for Gourmet Imports in Alhambra who brings in the goods, likens Rudy to the guy who goes to the farm and selects the best peaches. Brown said that Ludo Lefebvre also get the butter for Trois Mec.

Last Saturday, while I'm in Watts writing a story about a gang battlefield turned park, (http://krikorianwrites.com/blog/2014/1/25/the-wonderful-transformation-of-kartoons-battlefield) Nancy calls to tell me the butter has arrived via Fed-Ed. The next morning we - Silverton, Singer, Reichl and myself  - try the butter, plain and salted, straight and on a toasted La Brea Bakery batard. Singer says “umm, it’s really great.”. Reichl makes the now-infamous “this butter is dangerous” comment.

But, it’s Nancy who gives it the highest honor, She takes a bite, and slowly nods five times, There’s joy among the cows of Normandy. There’s jubilation at the Rudolph Le Menuier household. The MOF committee feels justified. Nancy Silverton has just awarded the butter Five Nods. (Silverton last gave “Five Nods” to the Salty Peanut Butter gelato at Pizzeria Mozza Newport Beach.)

Me, I just eat the butter. And eat some more. I’m content.

Unfortunately, this report is not all positive.

The feeling of contentment does not reign throughout Nancy’s kitchen. Soon, dissent prevails. It’s my fault. Perhaps foolishly, but dutifully, I ask some other butters in the kitchen their thoughts.   

Donald "Four Sticks” Challenge, a butter from a Los Angeles family which dates back to 1911, said when it comes to choosing a butter, priorities matter.

"Yes Baratte is an excellent butter, but very expensive,” said Four Sticks, taking a moment to size up a nearby  English Muffin. “Booooy, I could smoother her. You feel me? Where were we? Oh, yeah. Rudy's butter. Thing is, do you want an excellent butter or do you want a good butter and be able to afford an education for your children? Me, I'm a good, solid butter, Will I get work in Alsace at "L’Auberge de L'iIl? Probably not. But, if you want to send your kids to a good college and have a good butter as well, I'm your guy.

Other butters were not so diplomatic.

"This goddamn French butter comes to Nancy's frig and it's like Bastille Day with Charles of Gaulle as the Grandmaster," said a bitter tube of Vermont Butter. "I'm mean Jesus Christ, Nancy Silverton and Ruth Reichl are acting like Escoffier himself is coming to dinner. The gang reporter actin’ like he just discovered uranium or sum shit. Look, I've won several awards for American butter, but did anybody even notice me. No."

But, what really infuriated the other butters in Nancy’s kitchen was the care I took in rewrapping Le Meunier. In an effort to keep refrigerator odors, which will leach onto a butter like Richard Sherman onto Michael Crabtree, I rewrapped the Baratte, then put the disc in a large zip-lock bag which I personally sucked sealed.  

"Nobody even considered our exposure to the elements in the ice box, " said Plugra, who calls himself “European Style”. "I’m left out here with pea shoots and leftover pork meat pizza and Zeus knows what else.  Meanwhile, the Highfalutin “cultured” butter from fancy France is wrapped up, no, swathed up like he’s the infant Jesus. And what’s with the label “cultured” butter? Like he knows Caravaggio? Culture this.”

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Check Krikorian on Twitter - @makmak47

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Buerre de Baratte from Rudolph La Meunier, which costs roughly $18-$20 a pound,   is usually available at Nicole’s Marktet in South Pasadena, http://www.nicolesgourmetfoods.com/,  DTLA Cheese in the Grand Central Market http://www.dtlacheese.com/ and Urban Radish in the Arts District downtown http://www.urban-radish.com/ On the East Coast, Formaggio Kitchen often carries this butter. http://www.formaggiokitchen.com/

Gourmet Imports is in Alhambra (626) 570-6900 http://www.gourmetimports.com

For more info about Rudy, check www.rodolphelemeunier.com

IF you understand French, check our boy out talking, I think, about butter on You Tube, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=75uJKbGM6IM

EXTRAS

This report is about butter that is “available” in America.  Diane St. Clair in Orwell, Vermont makes some desirable butter at her Animal Farm, but it all goes to Thomas Keller for his French Laundry and Per Se, Barbara Lynch in Boston at No. 9 Park and Patrick O’Connell at the Inn at Little Washington.

Pim Techamuanvivt of the popular blog  "Chez Pim" makes superb butter for Manresa in Los Gatos where David Kinch rules. 

The Ferrari (or McLaren), of French butter is Bordier, but it is not available in America as it uses unpasteurized cream.

In “cultured” butter, the cream is first inoculated with micro-organisms that convert the sugars in the milk to lactic acid, then it’s churned.

TWO memorable butter quotes:

"Beurre beurre, donnez-moi du beurre, toujours du beurre" This is a famous saying of Fernand Point which means "Butter butter, give me butter, always butter."

"I alwasy give my bird a generous butter massage before I put it i the oven." -Julia Child.

Though I don't know if there's an actual quote, I know that butter plays a pivotal role in a key scene of the Marlon Brando movie "Last Tango in Paris".

For the NIGHT FINAL

As of press time, Buerre de Baratte from Rudolph Le Meunier is being held in protective custody in the closed lid section of Nancy Silverton’s refrigerator. A bodyguard, a tub of lard from Culiacan, Sinaloa, has been hired to protect the French butter from its American counterparts.  

The Wonderful Transformation of Kartoon's Battlefield

Jan, 25, 2014

Back in the '70s and '80s, when Ronald "Kartoon" Antwine got into a fight, he was the Goliath, a six-foot four, 240-pound menace to Watts with a mad-at-the world scowl on his face and a sawed-off shotgun beneath a long, black leather jacket.

He was stationed on Monitor Avenue, the Eastern front in the battle between his gang, the Bounty Hunters, headquartered in Nickerson Gardens, and their deadly rivals, the PJ Crips of Imperial Courts. Across the street from his house there on Monitor between 113th and 114th, was an acre-sized lot with weeds as tall as Kartoon. Here, gang snipers fired, trashed was dumped,  hope was discouraged and darkness reigned.  For decades, it was a symbol of the despair and abandonment of Watts.  

But, on this lovely winter Saturday morning, thanks largely to Ronald "Kartoon" Antwine's determination, that ugly plot of earth became a symbol of all the things it wasn't -  hope, play and brightness -  as the first shovelful of its dirt was overturned, the opening  salvo in the transformation of the old battleground into Monitor Avenue Park. 

"Today I make amends to you," said Kartoon, as he spoke before a crowd of 150 that included California State Senator Keven De Leon, Los Angeles City Councilman Joe Buscaino and acting General Manager of the Dept. of Parks and Recreation, Michael Shull. "I helped destroy this neighborhood. I was a gang member. I was a drug seller. But, this is my amends."

Antwine details his battles against landowners Union Pacific, his fight against having a housing tract developed on the vacant lot, and how he refused to sellout, even with the promise of riches, in his own words here,  http://krikorianwrites.com/blog/2014/1/25/ronald-kartoon-antwines-fight-for-a-park-in-his-own-words

"We were the little guy against Goliath. We were the David," he said adding that blacks and Hispanics came together, signing petitions. going to meetings and overcoming obstacles, to make this park happen. "This is not my park. This is our park."

Antwine singled out Tori Kjer of the Trust for Public Land as a tireless advocate for the park. He called her "my baby mama": their "baby" being Monitor Avenue Park, Kjer in turn credited Kartoon with doing "the fighting for the park and getting other members of the community involved in the fight."

Antwine also thanked his lifelong best friend Greg Brown for his support.  

Local residents were thrilled the long-awaited park, which is expected to open toward the end of 2014,  was finally becoming a reality

"This park will lend a little life back into this community," said Angela Johnson who has lived in Watts for 11 years.  "I think it's great because we have some real men, like Kartoon, encouraging more young people to do the right thing."

Other people spoke, the state senator De Leon, council member Buscaino, even the pastor of the Macedonia Baptist Church down 114th Street, but this was Kartoon's day.

"My mom, Ruby Joyce,  was a religious person, but one day, about 40 years ago,  she lied and said there was a dead body in this lot, just so the police would come and clean it up."  For a moment, the big, tough guy was quiet. Then he continued. " It was a long fight, but this park is really going to happen. I am hopeful my kids' kids will be playing in this park long after I'm gone. I mean that, from the cavity of my heart and the depths of my soul."

(FTRecord : I've been  knowing Kartoon about 20 years. Here's how he  got his nickname. He would be at home on Monitor,  doing homework and the neighborhood boys would pound on the door wanting him to come out and play. Embarrassed to say he was doing homework, he would tell them he was busy in watching cartoons. The spelling of "Kartoon" is with a "K" because he was from Bounty Hunters and Bloods are not fond of the letter "c".)

Kartoon with Tori Kjer from the Trust for Public Land