Fair Oaks Pharmacy and Soda Fountain

I've passed by the Fair Oaks pharmacy for years, pretty much as long as I can remember, but I never went in. It looked cool, and I read write-ups in Los Angeles and Sunset magazines praising the old time feel of the place. Part of me hoped it would be like the throwback diners I used to visit with my dad when I was a kid, like the Rose City Diner or Fender Benders in La Cañada. (I used to love the doo-wop singers on weekend afternoons at the former, until the time one of them singled me out in front of the entire restaurant for not singing along to "Up on the Roof." This was somewhat unfair of him; I was born long after that song was popular and I hadn't yet learned the lyrics at the age of eleven.) But I had a nagging feeling that it might also be a letdown, that I would want it so badly to be like one of those places that it would fall way short. No amount of fire or freshness can challenge what a man will store up in his ghostly heart.

Elizabeth and I stopped in to get a bite to eat more than a year ago. But, although the soda fountain is open until 9, they stop serving food at 6. We were twenty minutes too late. We went to Gus's instead. From time to time over the next year, when trying to decide where to go for dinner when we had our hearts set on going out, one of us would suggest Fair Oaks Pharmacy, only to remember they aren't open for dinner. 

Recently, on a chilly but gorgeous winter afternoon, we decided to stop by for lunch. We walked inside and asked if we could sit at one of the tables on the sidewalk. "Absolutely," one of the kids working there said, "I'll be right out with some menus." We sat down and waited about ten minutes before a different kid came out with a couple menus for us. (This theme of lousy service will be repeated frequently, I'm just warning you ahead of time.)

We mulled over what to order. We certainly had plenty of time to. After 15 minutes the waiter came back to take our orders. For drinks, Elizabeth got a fountain Coke with cherry syrup, and I ordered a vanilla egg cream. For food, she decided on the crispy chicken salad and I went with the Reuben. About five minutes later he returned.

"We are out of pastrami," he said.

"OK," I replied. "Can I have the menu back?"

He gave me a look as if I was asking a lot and returned (in no great hurry) with a menu. I ordered a Coney Island Dog - sauerkraut and mustard. We sat there for another twenty minutes or so, with empty drinks in front of us for at least half that time, but no waiter in sight to inquire if we wanted more. This was not unusual that afternoon; a mother and daughter at the table next to us waited for about twenty minutes with menus in front of them without receiving service. Eventually a kid came stumbling over and laughed: "Oh, uh, sorry. I forgot about you guys." An older man was sitting two tables away. After fifteen minutes of being ignored he left.

Finally our food arrived. Elizabeth's salad had a tiny plastic fork impaled in the middle of it.

"Sorry about the plastic fork," the waiter - by this time the 3rd different waiter we had seen - said. "We don't have any clean forks in the whole place. If we get one of them clean I will bring it out to you."

"Are you stoned?" I asked him. Actually, no, I didn't say that. But I was thinking that.

The food was decent, thankfully. I was expecting at this point that it would suck. Or that the employees had made it, forgot who it was for, and thrown it away. (This is not that much of a stretch, by the way; my brother and I once waited an hour after ordering dinner at Ari-Ya in Old Town and when we inquired about it were told by the waitress "Oh, that food was yours? We couldn't figure out who it was for so we threw it away.")

The fries were hot and crispy but otherwise unremarkable. My hot dog was nice - a big beef dog with tasty sauerkraut. Elizabeth's salad was good - I had a few bites when she finished. The lettuce wasn't particularly fresh but the croutons were tasty and the fried chicken pieces were really good.

Predictably, we waited for a long time after we finished our food. Finally we got up and went inside to get the check and pay. (The old man whom I thought had left had actually just moved inside, and he had already finished his food, which he ordered long after we did. So I guess the trick here is to sit inside.) 

It was just over $30 for our food. This did not surprise me - I mean, the prices are right on the menu - but it still seemed a little expensive after the meal we just had. It was basically fast food we ate, but at twice the price. With terrible service. I wasn't angry; the servers all looked like high school or college kids and this is probably the first job they have ever had. But we had been to Firefly Bistro a couple nights earlier for their "Burgers, Beer & Blues" night, and it was almost exactly the same price as this meal. And I'd had the second-best hamburger I've eaten in the last year and the service was great.

So, that nagging feeling I had about Fair Oaks Pharmacy was not without merit. It's a neat soda fountain and I think everyone should stop in once and have a shake or some ice cream. But the food is mediocre and more expensive than it should be, and the service is kind of a joke. I am glad I went, but I doubt I will ever return.

Fast Food Review: Carl's Jr. Grilled Cheese Bacon Burger

You can usually count on Carl's Jr.'s commercials to fall into one of two categories. The first is hot women doing overtly sexual - and completely unnecessary - things. Paris Hilton washing a car, something I doubt she's ever done in her life. Padma Lakshmi licking barbecue sauce off a piece of bacon, something I've never once seen a person do. Kim Kardashian eating a salad in bed - with her fingers - in her underwear.

The other category is guys acting like immature idiots. The doctor obsessing about bourbon while on the job. The guy who gets chili all over his face, truly the most disgusting food commercial I have ever seen. The guy who starts crying after eating a jalapeno burger then uses those tears to pretend he is sorry for arguing with his girlfriend. And the nadir of Carl's Jr. commercials - and that, my friends, is saying a lot - the two white guys rapping about "flat buns." 

The newest fast food promotion from Carl's Jr. is from the second school: a man wants a grilled cheese sandwich so he orders one, apparently off the kid's menu, and is served the sandwich with a juice box and coloring book. "Introducing a grilled cheese for grown ups," the commercial announces, before displaying a picture of a mammoth burger with crispy bacon and four slices of melted cheese on sourdough. 

The last couple times I reviewed something from Carl's, I read opinions of it beforehand. The Kentucky Bourbon burger was ripped to shreds by reviews and bloggers, but I actually enjoyed it. The Teriyaki burger got several favorable reviews from websites I like, and I thought it was terrible. I worried that, since I already knew the consensus opinions of the burgers, I was just being one of those contrarian jackasses who needs to hold a minority opinion, regardless of how he or she actually feels. (I don't think I am, but then again those kind of people never do.) So I decided not to read anything about this burger before trying it. 

I only ordered the single version of the burger. There were four people in Carl's Jr. when I ordered it and nobody in the drive-through, but it still took about ten minutes for the burger to be ready. (This is not a big deal but the humor in it will become apparent in a moment.) I took it home and unwrapped it. The burger was smaller than the ads make it seem. No surprise. The bacon was not thick and crisp but rather limp and fatty. Again, no surprise. (And there was mayonnaise on it. I have no possible idea why.) 

But the cheese was not really melted. Seriously.  How the hell can you call something "grilled cheese" when the cheese isn't melted? I had assumed the reason it took ten minutes to get my burger was that they were grilling it. I have no idea what they were doing. Of course, it wouldn't be a big deal to me as long as it tasted good.

It did not. The burger was terrible. It was the worst cheese I have had in a long time. More than a decade ago I went on a diet for a couple months and I would frequently make myself grilled cheese sandwiches on the Foreman grill, using Kraft "fat free singles." The cheese was lousy, it tasted more like the plastic wrapper than anything else. (I would put lots of Taco Lita hot sauce on it to make it taste better.) This is what the Carl's Jr. cheese tasted like. The patty was the same flavorless patty that they use for every other burger. I added some barbecue sauce - their barbecue sauce is actually decent, much better than the super-sugary barbecue sauces you get at most fast food joints - and it made it slightly better. 

After eating it I went online to read some reviews of it. I could not find any, at least not on the half-dozen websites I turn to for fast food reviews. But what I did find on Carl's Jr.'s website was surprising, and not in a good way: this burger I had, which is the healthiest of the three versions, weighed in at 820 calories and 57 grams of fat! Are you f**king kidding me? (The "double" version contains 1020 calories and 72 grams of fat, although I did not consider getting that; the last thing I want in a Carl's Jr. burger is more of their meat.) That In-N-Out hamburger I had Sunday night was 390 calories and 19 grams of fat. I could have had two of them and it would have been healthier than this. Not to mention one hundred times better.

White Castle's frozen, microwavable hamburgers, which I admit a fondness for (I love them with hot peppers and A.1. steak sauce) come six mini burgers to a pack. Normally, I eat only two mini burgers at a time. But if I were ever really hungry and decided to eat the entire box of six - which I've never done, not even when drunk - it would contain 78o calories and 39 grams of fat. Still healthier than this single grilled cheese bacon burger.

So, to review: I waited a long time for a bland, "grilled cheese" burger that didn't actually have any melted cheese, and it's the most unhealthy burger I have eaten in a long time. You may draw your own conclusion. 

Trader Joe's Steamer Clams

The other day, Elizabeth mentioned to me that someone had told her about Trader Joe's clams in garlic butter, and said she would like to try them. I've never much cared for clams - although I don't remember the last time I tried one that wasn't fried - but I didn't mind making them for her, and I promised I would try them. I picked up a one pound box at TJ's for $4.99. 

The frozen clams come in a little plastic tray with instructions for microwaving and stove top cooking. Obviously I wasn't going to microwave them. I dumped them in my Le Creuset pot and, after scraping the last remnants of the frozen garlic butter off the plastic, decided it needed more butter and garlic. (Really, is there such a thing as too much butter or garlic?) So I added a little bit more of each to the pot. 

They cooked in about seven minutes and I emptied them into a bowl, setting a few slices of bread on top. Elizabeth liked them; I only tried one. It wasn't bad - much better than any fried clam strip I have ever tried. The clam itself was actually pretty tasty. But the broth was incredibly salty. There might have been sand in there, too. As I wrote, I had added extra butter - I don't want to think about how salty it would have tasted without that.  

After Elizabeth was done with the clams I tried a couple slices of bread with the broth. It's not for me. I will make these again for her if she wants, but I wouldn't mind making clams with my own recipe to see how they turn out. Especially now that I know clams are better when they aren't fried. Who'd a thunk it?

Trader Joe's & Anthony Bourdain

Like last Monday, Elizabeth and I watched the new episode of Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations (Prague) with our friend Tracie. I did not make anything too fancy, just a few things I had in the fridge. I started with a package of Trader Joe's arancini bites.

"Have you ever had these before?" I asked Tracie. "They're pretty good."

"No," she said, "I haven't had arancini bites since I was in Sicily."

"Hmm. These might not be that good."

And they weren't anything special, they were awfully dry, although I still ate a few of them, dipped in some marinara sauce. I also spread Trader Joe's burrata on slices of baguette. The other thing I cooked was a TJ's Pizza Parlanno. I wrote about this pizza a month ago - it might be my favorite frozen pizza out there. The sausage is great, and the peppers and onions actually taste like they have been roasted. 

The episode of Bourdain was not as good as last week's in Brittany. The theme of it seemed to be that the Czechs have great beer but the food is still trying to find its way (although there is a lot of meat to be eaten everywhere you go.) However, there was a scene at a sausage stand that I loved - Tony ate two sausages and then a fried cheese sandwich: a big slab of fried cheese on a bun, just dripping with mayonnaise. The girls thought it looked gross with all the mayo, but I am totally making that sandwich soon.

In-N-Out Burger

Writing about In-N-Out, for anyone who grew up in Southern California, is basically memoir writing. I don't know a single person who cannot tell countless anecdotes about the place. There are very few friends of mine with whom I do not share at least one In-N-Out adventure. 

My grandmother frequently picked up my brother and me from elementary school and took us by the In-N-Out a couple blocks away. Our order was always the same: two pink lemonades and two orders of fries, in separate sacks. We had both learned the hard way that was the only chance of not fighting over splitting the fries. I was stronger but my Nana favored my brother; I always won the battle but lost the war. 

There was an In-N-Out a few miles from my high school. We couldn't always make it there and back on our lunch break and sometimes we got in trouble for being late, but I don't recall anyone ever saying it wasn't worth it. There was an In-N-Out three blocks from my college freshman year - I don't remember if this was the sole reason I chose that college, but it's possible - and I frequently ate two meals a day there. 

My friend Tom and I saw The Big Lebowski in a theater in Boston one ice cold February night, literally the coldest I have ever been in my life. When the characters talked about In-N-Out burgers I suddenly wanted very badly to have one in front of me, and I realized why people who have moved to the East Coast long for those burgers so much.

When Elizabeth moved out here, almost two years ago to the day, her dad accompanied her and we all went to In-N-Out for lunch, his first time. (She already loved the place from previous visits.) He shook his head after a couple bites of his Double-Double and said "Oh man, this place would make a killing in New York."

The first car accident I was ever in was pulling out of an In-N-Out parking lot. The first drive-through I visited after I got my license at 16 was In-N-Out. My first kiss was... well, when it happens, I will go to In-N-Out afterwards. 

OK, you get the point. These stories could go on for thousands of words. Norman Maclean wrote in his masterful A River Runs Through It: "Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it." I could make a similar statement about memories from the last twenty years of my life and how In-N-Out runs through them. (Admittedly, the prose would not be as elegant.) 

And I'm not even one of In-N-Out's legendarily devoted fans. My friend Zach, however, is. He went to college in New York and I picked him up at the airport during Christmas and spring breaks our freshman year, and both times, before going home to see his family, we stopped at In-N-Out. Sophomore year, I helped him write a paper on symbols in advertising; he chose In-N-Out and it's palm-tree-and-hot-rod advertisements. He got an A, my one and only brush with Ivy League greatness. 

So when Zach wrote a comment on my last post, about craving an In-N-Out burger, I felt it was time for a new post on In-N-Out. Everyone around here knows all about In-N-Out, so I will only touch on it briefly for the two of my seven readers - that's you folks in Rhode Island and Cincinnati - who might not be fully aware. Although even if you're not, you probably know something about it through cultural osmosis. Mikey wore an In-N-Out t-shirt in Swingers. When those three soldiers were captured in Kosovo in 1999 and Jesse Jackson helped with their release, the one from Southern California said he was anxious to get home and have a Double-Double. Gordon Ramsay and Sean Hannity both swear by their burgers, perhaps the only thing they have in common other than the fact that I can always get my friend Tracie riled up by mentioning their names. 

Everything at In-N-Out is fresh; they have no freezers. They only offer burgers and fries. And there is a "secret" menu that once upon a time actually was kind of secret but is now all but listed on their menu board. (And, in fact, is listed on their website.)

Elizabeth - always one to join me in a food adventure, but even more so when it's In-N-Out - and I headed down to the In-N-Out in Alhambra for dinner with another friend of ours. It was Friday night and the drive-through line stretched down the block. Newer locations like this one, however, have inside dining, so that's where we sat. We got three Double-Doubles: two animal-style and one regular. We got three orders of fries the same way and sat down to wait, surrounded by the typical assortment of In-N-Out customers: high school kids, families, couples on dates, and three CHP officers. Nobody looked unhappy. Our food was up in about ten minutes. 

In-N-Out's fries are not great. They are freshly cut potatoes, but they are always limp and sometimes undercooked. You can order them well done, and that does make them slightly better, but I prefer them animal style, with grilled onions, cheese and sauce. At any rate, the burger here is the main attraction: two patties, cheese, sauce, grilled onions, pickles, and some of the freshest lettuce you will ever have. This burger was great, just like it has been every one of the hundreds, possibly thousands of times I have eaten one. 

After we finished, our friend remarked that she felt like a milkshake, so we all got them. Mine was vanilla. It had been a long time since I had had one of these. Damn, I forgot how good they are. I kind of wish I didn't rediscover that, because I could drink a couple of these every night.

I've written many times about the concept of a "good value." This dinner for the three of us cost just over twenty dollars; it would have been worth it at twice the price. 

And the weekend ended the only way it possibly could: with an hour long episode of Huell Howser about In-N-Out. We had just eaten dinner a short while earlier but I said to Elizabeth: "I'm not gonna lie, I kinda want a Double-Double now." But I was stuffed, so after watching The Simpsons we headed back to In-N-Out only to get milkshakes.  But since we were there I figured well, you might as well at least get a hamburger. So I did. It was great. And I let my little buddy share my milkshake with me. (He loves In-N-Out, too.)