I met an old friend for dinner at The Wood, one of the many casual dining spots in Culver City, a subsection of west L.A. that has its own mayor, city council, and white hot food scene that gives Silver Lake a run for its money.   The venerable cook and gourmet food supply shop Surfas anchors the area, plus there are a couple of small storefront cooking schools.   Locally, food is on the brain.   And indeed the co-owners ran a coffee shop and a cafe, respectively, and met at a farmer’s market.   That would be Demetrios Mavromichalis of  Venice Grind and Laurent Triqueneaux of Cafe Laurent.

It doesn’t hurt that there are film studios and media companies nearby to keep the caterers and lunch spots busy.  Lest you picture quaint streets and adorable areas to walk, I’ll set you straight.  Culver City was a suburb developed in the late 40’s/ early ’50’s at the height of L.A.’s love affair with the car, and has wide, bleak streets and pretty ugly architecture.  Style-less Moderne, let’s call it.   Travel a block and you will doubtless see an auto repair shop.  Not exactly Rodeo Drive.

There is mostly outdoor dining at  meat-and-potato-centered The Wood, but we ate inside as it was 55 degrees, people!  The cafe promises locally-sourced ingredients whenever possible,  which is quite easy in California.  My rose wine was from Santa Barbara, for example, as was my side dish of kale, but my perfectly medium rare lamb chops were from New Zealand.  The amount of garlic in the chimichurri sauce on top of them could only be described as fearless, and very possibly from Gilroy, a garlic-growing center in mid state. The lamb stood up to the garlic. I did, too.

My friend’s pork chop was a shade dry,  but the accompanying mashed potatoes were way better than mom-style.   We started with fritto misto,  since the fried brussel sprouts appetizer would overdo me with a double load of winter vegetables.   The tempura-battered veggies and a few shrimp were good enough, but oily, indicating less than fresh or double-used oil, as a general rule.  Just a guess.  It was served cutely in a cake baking tin lined with parchment paper.

I’d go again and try a burger, and the sprouts, and try to find room for the chocolate pot de creme, too.    The desire to go again means this is a good place, and, as my friend noted, way better than the tired greasy spoon that used to be there.

Driving back to the freeway you’ll pass an only-in-L.A. series of storefronts, namely a famous sword and gun collectors shop, a relatively new mosque, the headquarters of nfl.com,  a Lutheran church, the DMV and Sony Studios.

Los Angeles has an ever-replenishing supply of consumers under 30, aided by the presence of lots of top tier colleges, and, oh yes,  the draw of Hollywood fame and fortune.  Are they eating 3 course meals and sipping $100 bottles of wine?  Not so much.  Pizza?  Yep.   And not Pizza Hut, Papa John’s or Domino’s.

Point of fact: indy pizza joints are popping up in trendy Los Feliz and Silver Lake  almost as fast as wine bars. Actually, they are usually within a storefront of each other. Such is the case with Lucifer’s Pizza, on Hillhurst.  You might not fly such a restaurant name in the heart of the Bible belt, but it is doing just fine where black clothing is de riguer, even for toddlers (seriously!).  The place proclaims itself to be “Damned good.”  Get it?  The hook of the menu is that you get to decide how spicy your pizza will be: “zero,” “medium,” “fiery” or “blazing”.    Go for blazing and fresh cut hot peppers, pickled peppers, and housemade chili sauce will end up on your pizza, which you can order in personal or large sizes.  Sandwiches, wings and salad round out the food choices.

Being in Rome, my dining partner did as a Roman and ordered the spiciest pizza there was, and made it blazing.  I went with zero as I was hungry and if lost feeling in my mouth, what the hell (!) would I eat?    We got some water/Coke out of the cooler (you can bring your own beer and wine; they don’t have a license) and waited quite a long time.  We took plenty of peeks behind the counter; the kitchen seemed to be a little overwhelmed with take-out orders.   We people-watched, seated at our table shaped like a coffin, spurning groups of three or more who were trying to get us two to move so they could have our bigger table.   You’ll pry this comfy coffin from my cold dead hands, hipster.

The thin crust pizzas, a bit greasy with cheese, showed up.    John reported his was very spicy but far from inedible (you’d have to bring food literally on fire to be too spicy for him).  I tried a  pepperoni slice off his which had been soaked in the chili sauce. Hot on its own, never mind the fresh sliced hot peppers all over the pie.   My Sicilian sausage with fresh tomatoes was okay,  but we are pretty sure we were eating dough not made in house.  Dough is a big part of setting yourself a cut above as a pizza joint.

The point in coming here is not necessarily nuanced ingredients, however.  It is about  being guaranteed access to very hot peppers, wearing black, being in a black room and not spending too much money to do so.   Lucifer’s succeeds on all the above counts, but has a way to go to beat Garage Pizza a few blocks away, where they make the dough in house (rumor has it that the chef cut his teeth at Joe’s Pizza in New York!) and slices are ready to go almost instantly, with a wide choice of toppings, too.

Lucifer’s Pizza is located at 1958 Hillhurst Avenue in Los Angeles.

Maybe you have a distant memory of going to a “fancy” restaurant when relatives were in town or a cousin was off to college. There were white tablecloths, a jacketed waiter and “continental’ specials. The kitchen somehow came up with kid’s plates that weren’t on the menu, and the staff had been there forever. Oh, yes, and the adults could order a handmade cocktail for the occasion. It was family-friendly in a kind of stuffy way. You dressed up a little and Shirley Temples were a house drink.

Very few such places exist any more, but Carpineteria, yes, that little town 10 minutes south of Montecito and lacking an upscale hotel, pier or restaurant scene of much description, has one. It’s not in its 60th year of operation, however, only its third, helmed by James Sly, a long time chef who made Montecito’s Lucky’s steakhouse what it is today. You kind of only find this place if you live near there or someone tells you about it. And don’t worry, it won’t be closing due to lack of interest. Sly’s (www.slysonline.com) has its followers who make sure the place is not empty. Here is where you’ll get Blue Plate specials of American classics like pot pie and meat loaf every night of the week, very good steak (hand cut and aged in house), locally-sourced wines, produce and breads. Their grilled artichoke is delicious and straight from Castroville, of course.

The low key town means low key rent, one suspects, and thus a lot more value goes on your plate than you might expect. No, it’s not cheap, but it’s not crazy pricewise either. We took our 6 year old there a couple of Sundays ago and enjoyed the aforementioned artichokes and herbed scallops to start. My husband had his favorite Bloody Mary, ever, and perfectly pan-roasted chicken. I had the prix fixe menu of the day, which had a Gruyere souffle, a more than decent steak with a carrot puree, and a petite tarte tatin to finish. My souffle was fallen, I must say, and the waiter blinked a bit when I asked about it. (Update: From James Sly: “The soufflé suissesse is unmolded, and served in cream, baked with gruyere over.” So it turns out that the souffle wasn’t fallen after all. However, that waiter should have known that.)

Sounds much better than fallen! It’s baked in a half inch deep mold.
He said it came that way. Hmmm. Well, it tasted good. And it was $34 for all three courses.

As a more than decent home cook, Top Chef addict, farmer’s market shopper and all-around food enthusiast, I am well aware most restaurants use shortcuts to streamline operations and pare costs. It’s an admirable business model – if you don’t care that the food be special and personal. Sly’s does indeed care about special and personal. On a brunch visit, we asked how they get the artichoke just so. We were advised how to steam them using vegatable broth for 45 minutes, chill them in the fridge for at least an hour, trim them properly and then grill them. I’m not so sure Morton’s, McCormick and Schmicks’ et.al. are doing it that way or would take the time to tell us about it.

The Los Angeles, and, casting the net wider, southern California, food scene is really world class these days. You can get well-made food from eager culinary grads who’ve cut their teeth in New York, Paris and Miami. You want deconstructed Italian, cutting edge Vietnamese, fusion Korean? Seriously amazing.

But no frills delicious is much harder than that. Deceptively simple is all about showcasing ingredients and adding salt, pepper, butter, herbs and a huge dash of service. Sly’s has it.

By the way, one of the Bloody Mary’s key ingredients is fresh squeezed juice of a whole lemon. As for the rest, sorry, you’ll have to go to the corner of Linden and Seventh in Carpinteria for the recipe.