BAN THE LEFT TURN

Last week my uncle Johnny and auntie Sheila from Chicago came to visit. They had not been in Los Angeles for 45 years and, though they both thought it was a bit corny, they really wanted to see some of our city’s famous tourist spots.    

“I know it’s for kids, but we’d really just like to go sightseeing,” said aunt Sheila, 72, almost apologetically. 

No problem, I told them. Heck, I wouldn’t mind seeing some of the spots that have brought tourists to the town of my birth myself. 

So, I took them to the Chinese Theater – that I still call Grauman’s Chinese - and uncle and I we put our feet in Humphrey Bogart’s, Paul Newman’s and Steve McQueen’s shoe imprint while auntie tried out Ava Gardner and Natalie Wood. 

Then we went to the La Brea Tar Pits and marveled at the mastodons and mammoths and that saber-toothed tiger, (now, politically correct, called a saber-toothed cat) still the coolest name of any animal. Ever.  

Then I took them to see the storied “NO LEFT TURN 7 AM - 9 AM  4PM - 7 PM” sign at Beverly and Normandie. That’s a classic I never get tired of seeing and love to take out-of-towners to gaze at it.  It’s such a sweet thought back to memory lane. Those wonderous days when the morning rush ended at 9 a.m. and the afternoon rush didn’t start until 4 p.m..  Imagine that. Back then, from 9 am to 4 pm - seven hours! – drivers hummed along in Los Angeles streets like they were Formula One champion Lewis Hamilton zooming around the Nürburgring racetrack in Germany. 

My uncle and aunt stared at the sign it wistfully. “Wow, what a, well, I guess, in a way, a melancholy sign,” said aunt Sheila, who was born in Manchester, England and grew up fairytales about Los Angeles allowing left turns from non-“left turn only” designated lanes. “So back in the day, the evening rush hour didn’t start until four? And only lasted three hours? That’s crazy. What a delight that must have been to drive in those days.”

Since we weren’t that far away, and I had an hour before dinner, I continued the tour. I drove west on Beverly, past the Wilshire Country Club, hung a right on June Street and another right onto Melrose and headed back east. 

“Get your cameras out,” I said as we drove past the intersection where Rossmore Avenue transforms into Vine Street ( that’s a whole ‘nuther story). “Now watch as this two-lane road becomes only one lane because three or four people get to park on Melrose.”

I lucked out. Only one car was parked on Melrose a block west of Larchmont, but it was enough for 100s, more likely 1,000s of cars to have to squish over, honk, nearly side swipe each other all for one car to park. 

My uncle was impressed. “So, let me get this straight.  A thousand cars pay the price for one car to park. A two-lane street becomes one-lane all because of that silver Camry. Now that’s democracy.”

Democracy? No, this is more like stupidity. Two lane roads turning into one lane so a few people can park? People legally turning left up until 4 p.m.? Hey Garcetti, hey Transportation Department bosses, wake the blank up. The rush hour in Los Angeles does not end at 9 a.m. or start up again at 4 p.m.,  Time have changed. Change the damn signs.

Make it, I don’t know, left turns allowed from 11 a.m. until 2 p.m. on certain streets?  How about no left turns at all? Make three right turns.  Suffer a little. The left turn is the most dangerous thing most L.A. residents do all day anyway.  Ban it. Let us going-straight folks go without having to veer into the next lane. 

The point is do something about the traffic on the streets. .  

Every time I drive on these roads – two, three times a  day – I think “Do the people that run this city ever actually drive?”  They couldn’t possibly drive here and think this is okay. These rules 30, 40 years old.  

Where is the Coltrane, the Miles Davis of the transportation department?  We need some outside the box. Or, rather,  outside the lane thinking. This current way is not working. Try something different. Anything. 

The rush hour is no no longer 7 am to 9 am and 4 p.m. to 7 p.m.. It’s a lovely thought but it’s just not true. It’s fiction. It’s make believe.   

Whoever is in charge of traffic, please, like Frank Sinatra sings in “I’ve Got You Under My Skin”,  use your mentality, wake up to reality.

NANCY SILVERTON TAKES A SHOWER

BY JIMMY DOLAN., Mozza Tribune Staff Writer

Last fall, when Mozza chef Nancy Silverton, her director of operations Kate Greenberg and a journalist went to the Four Seasons Cabo Del Sol resort in Baja, Mexico, they were awash in luxury. From their huge showers, to the small wading pool adjoining their rooms to the warm, awaiting Sea of Cortez, they lived the good life as clean as could be.

The trio’s next trip together was the polar opposite. In fact, you could call it the polar bear opposite. It was on March 8th to Alaska to be a curious part of the famous Iditarod sled dog race. Nancy had been lured to the Winterlake Lodge, a luxury resort with Kirsten Dixon and her daughter Mandy Dixon, a Thomas Keller trained chef, in a town where the closest post office and market was an hour away by helicopter. She was to take park in what was billed as an “Ice Cream Social”, a gathering featuring her renowned Nancy’s Fancy gelati served in the main lodge.

The Winterlake is at the Finger Lake stop on the Iditarod, a nearly 1,000 mile dog sled race from Anchorage to Nome that always brings to my mind the wonderful 1903 Jack London novel “The Call of the Wild” about a dog named Buck from Santa Clara Valley, California who is dognapped, shipped to Alaska and forced to compete in a (fictionally) extremely brutal sled dog race.

Normally the Lodge would host this upscale event and have the dog sled drivers, their crews and those rich enough to stay at Winterlake. But, because of Covid, the lodge would only allow Nancy, Kate and Michael and the other six guests into the dining area.

The three of us stayed in rooms about 600 feet from the main lodge. And one of stunning features of the rooms is they had no running water. None. They turn off the water in the rooms this year because, I guess, they know they will burst. To shower, we would have to walk the 600 feet to a dining area, past the yoga room, past the main lobby, past the bar, past the music room and into a bathroom that had a shower.

In the five days they were there, Nancy, Kate and Michael took a grand total of two showers. That’s not two showers each, that’s two showers total for the three people.  Nancy Silverton took no showers at Winterlake. None.

Now, if you know Nancy like this Tribune reporter does, you know she is one of the most carefully-cleaned, well-groomed and brilliantly dressed people on Earth. So, for her to go five days without a shower is unheard of.

Still, she somehow managed to look as fresh as the icicles hanging from the eves of the lodge every morning.  She would almost brag to her entourage, “I’m not gonna take a shower today.”  The trek to the shower was a turn off more than the temptation of hot water.

But, when she got home, Nancy Silverton took a shower.  Still, to this reporter, she didn’t look any more beautiful than she did at our experience in the Call of the Wild.  

EDITOR’S NOTE This story is the sequel to Nancy Silverton Has A Cold http://www.krikorianwrites.com/blog/2015/10/17/nancy-silverton-has-a-cold

Which was a take on one of the classics of new journalsim, April 1966 Esquire article by Gay Talese called “Frank Sinatra Has A Cold”

MORE THAN 78 SENATORS URGE NANCY SILVERTON TO ORDER ELYSSA PHILLIPS TO STOP CALLING THEM IMMEDIATELY

BY JIMMY DOLAN

In a show of unity not seen this historic year, 78 United States Senators signed a pledge to vote for the Restaurant Relief Act, with one proviso; Nancy Silverton needs to order an employee to stop the constant telephone calls to their offices.

“We will vote for whatever package you want, Nancy, but please tell her to stop with the constant kveching,” said Lamar Bitch Alexander, (R- TN). “Please make her stop.”    

The server, who thank Jesus and Muhammad , is not always at the Corner, is one Elyssa Phillips, a refugee from who knows where, who somehow got a job at the great Italian restaurant Osteria Mozza.

Phillips, age unknown, has thankfully not been on the Corner much lately with the shut down, but made a unusually quiet appearance Thursday with her sound level rarely approaching more the 107 decibels, the same peak as a 12 cylinder Ferrari 8GTB25.

“We are emphatically urging Nancy to put a stop to this,” said Sen. Diane Feinstein (D- Calif). “We have agreed to provide restaurants with all the goddamn money they want. We will especially give the Mozza Corner and extra 20 million. But, no more Calls!”

Republican majority leader – and certified asshole – Mitch McConnell agreed with Feinstein. “Tell her to stop and the cash will flow to the restaurants. It’s that simply.”

Nancy Silverton could no be reached for comment. No attempt was made to reach to Elyssa for obvious reasons.

.

CNN'S JOHN 'THE SPEW' KING SHATTERS RECORDS FOR NUMBER OF WORDS SPOKEN ON TV

“You don’t understand! I coulda had class. I coulda been a contender. I coulda been somebody, Instead of the bum, which is what I am.” - Terry Malloy in “On The Waterfront”

Try and picture CNN’s political analyst John King playing Terry Malloy, the role considered by me to be the greatest performance of Marlon Brando’s - or any actor’s - career. King’s version of the movie’s classic taxi cab back seat scene where Malloy explains his life to his brother Charlie. would go something like this.

“You don’t understand. I coulda had class, provided that 78% of the opponent’s available fist space, including 88%-92% of the index, ring and fuck-you fingers, traveling at a speed of 103 miles per hour during 45% or less humidity conditions and his fist clenched to at lease 75% clenchibilty, connected with my jaw while i was leaning back 16. 3 to 19.3%, there by reducing the power of the punch by 34%, I coulda been a contender, if, of the 1, 508 boxers in the light-heavyweight class. at least 67% of them had either server back aches that needed 600 to 800 grams of Motrin every 168 minutes, and I coulda been somebody if 89.7% of the actual “somebodies decided to take up another craft. “

I prefer Brando’s Malloy. To me, King’s version has too many numbers, but I’m not a numbers guy.

If you are a number gal or guy . you would be mesmerized by John “The Spew” King’s record breaking performance the last three days on CNN. King shatter all known record for using percentage points, for saying the word “if” and for leaving a sizeable portion of the viewing public looking at each other and saying. “What the hell is he talking about?”.

BREAKING NEWS - At press time, Ruth Krikorian, a spokeswomen for MSNBC’s Steve Kornacki said he would attempt to break the record tonight. She offered this Twitter feed to promote her case. https://twitter.com/CallMollie/status/1323659899922911233

THREE FRENCH LAUNDRY CUSTOMERS SERIOUSLY INJURED LIFTING NEW MENU THAT CREDITS ALL WHO HELPED THOMAS KELLER

When the late, nearly mythical French chef Joel Robuchon was charged last week - in absentia - for not properly giving credit to the line cook who, in anger, ( don’t ask why), put way too much buerre de baratte in what turned out to be the master’s most famous dish. pomme de terre, aka mashed potatoes, chefs around the world knew it was time to share the spotlight.

In fear of lawsuits - or a slight concerned that creamer hacks would attempt to slam them - chefs began crediting employees for any contribution they may have had to a dish. That, hopefully, reached its crescendo in Napa Valley this week at one of the most acclaimed restaurants in the world.

The French Laundry unveiled its new menu which. on chef/owner Thomas Keller’s orders, credits every one who had even a remote connection to any item listed on the menu.

Unfortunately, the menu turned out so heavy, 52 kilos (114 pounds), that three French Laundry customers were seriously injured navigating it. One, a woman, who requested anonymity, pulled a right spleen and required not only surgery, but counseling. The other two, males, both suffered pulled neck and jaw muscles, separated shoulders and sprained wrists. One of the males, Florida congressman Ted Yoho, is not expected to survive.

Due to the cost of printing ink this publication cannot reprint the entire menu. However, we will include a section of the menu’s listing of one of Keller’s most famous dishes, the first course known as “Oysters and Pearls”. which was formerly listed as a "Sabayon of pearl tapioca with Island Creek oysters and white sturgeon caviar”. The oysters would vary, as would the caviar since you might get the good stuff from the Caspian if you are known.

FROM THE FRENCH LAUNDRY

OYSTERS AND PEARLS - BY THOMAS KELLER WITH SPECIAL CREDIT GIVEN TO THE FOLLOWING

ROBERT ABLE, who shucked most of the oysters this week until a cut wrist sidelined him.

DALBERT PUJOLS - Taught Robert how to shuck oysters. ( A good, though clearly not great teacher)

BOBBY VASQUEZ - Swept and mopped the kitchen floor so Able and Pujols could shuck oysters and not do so on a messy floor.

SYLVIA VASQUEZ - - Tired of her husband Bobby drinking and watching “Breaking Bad”, told him to “get a friggin’ job” which led to Bobby Vasquez landing the gig at the Laundry of cleaning the kitchen floors..Thanks, Sylvie!

MORTON “MORT” or “MORTY” GOLDSTEIN - Made much of the tapioca.

SANDRA CORE - Baby sitter for runner Luis Ramirez who couldn’t have come to work with an innocent conscience if Sandra didn’t watch his four -year old, Manny, (who likes cold french fries more than cereal).

The menu goes on to credit 43 other people for this delicious dish, but I have to get to a funeral, Fuck you.

MOLD FOUND IN RENOWNED ROQUEFORT CHEESEMAKER'S CAVES; OUTRAGED CUSTOMERS, FOODIDIOTS DEMAND EXPLANATION

In the most shocking news to strike the food world during this bewildering pandemic, a food blogger in Bahrain broke the news on Shwitter that a renowned Roquefort cheesemaker has been selling his product to the public even though the bleu cheese had been in close, perhaps even intimate contact with mold.

Gabriel Coullet, for decades considered one of France’s greatest producers of Roquefort cheese, admitted Thursday that a saprotrophic fungus known as penicillium roquefort has had what he called “an oh la la relationship with my sheep’s milk cheese since before, during and after the Battle of Verdun.”

“Let’s just say the sheep milk and the mold have a thang goin’ on,” Coullet told the media assembled at a cave in Roquefort-Sur-Soulzon. Coullet sang the last three words as if he were Billy Paul cooing “Me and Mrs. Jones”.

More than 35 people worldwide - many in Los Angeles - had fecal fits about the mold contacting the cheese and it made headlines in once-important newspapers. Coullet however blew it off as the reaction of foodidiots with nothing to do. “I didn’t realize eating it could cause American foodidiots, already a bunch of merde creamers, to suddenly think they were Woodward and Bernstein by making; a big deal of it. Get a life.”

A story about a Los Angeles restaurant that may have had mold on jam was the most prominently displayed story Wednesday on the Los Angeles Times website . The four homicides in Watts during the first week of July - including two girls, ages 6 and 4 - did not get a mention in the same Times site. Pathetic.



HELLO STRANGER, IT SEEMS SO GOOD TO SEE YOU BACK AGAIN, OSTERIA MOZZA'S GREATEST NIGHT AS THE CORNER ROARS BACK

By Jimmy Dolan, Mozza Tribune Staff Writer

Hello Stranger, it seems so  good to see you back again. How long has it been?  Ooh, seems like a mighty long time.  

Those are the opening lyrics of one of the most enduring songs ever, Barbara Lewis’ 1963 monument to emotions, “Hello Stranger”.  And last night in Los Angeles, the tide of emotions broke deep as Osteria Mozza roared back to life with what was - not arguably, it just was - the greatest night ever on the Corner.

It was great because it had been so bad and the great redemption on Saturday made the triumphant return to being open and full of life all the sweeter.  As Knuckles Washington from Imperial Jordan Gardens in Watts says “The best thing about getting knocked down is getting up and having a magnificent redemption. 

The “knockdown” was not one, but several. The shuttering of a city, of a nation, really. Then, after two weeks of a food giveaway program, the entire Mozza Corner locked because of the greatest blow of all,  Nancy testing positive for Covid. Then Nancy going into San Quarantine with her trouble-searching boyfriend Michael Krikorian as they waited and prepared for Covid’s worst, which, thanks Zeus and ginger-infused hot water, never came. Then the powerful protests of the inhumane homicide of George Floyd swept through our city’s streets, and in its ugly wake, the trashing of our lovely neighbor MelroseMac and a dust up on the Corner itself by cockroach bitch ass punks.

So tension was thick before Osteria Mozza opened Saturday night. There was none of the usual banter, no wise cracks among the wait staff. It was all business.  The staff was lean.  But, they were elite. Five of them had been previously awarded the prestigious Employee of the Month. The Corner’s Director of Operations, Kate Greenberg, was the evening’s host. There were no somms, but Joe Bastianich, a wine guy from New York City, filled in. Even the kitchen crew, head by executive chef Liz Hong, was somber. The only thing her chef de cuisine Nicolas Rodriguez said at all to this reporter was “I finished ‘The Wire’ last night.”

The first hour of service was borderline awkward, it was that quiet. It took awhile to get used to not seeing people at the bars. But, as the night wore on, and the comfort level grew, the trepidation of being out in a public dining room dissipated and the place began to feel like, well, like Osteria Mozza.

Hello stranger, it seems so  good to see you back again.

Eddie and Coco were back at table 31. Sid and Joni were out in the patio. Nancy, with the joint’s most striking mask, strolled the room, stopping to greet old friends, to congratulate a college graduate, to enchant a young chef.

For the vast majority of diners, it was their first meal out in months. And the staff felt honored they had chosen Osteria to be their initial foray into a sit down restaurant. Walk by a table and you could feel the relief people had of being out and feeling good. The wine flowed and the conversations did, too.  So much so that people stayed longer at their tables than usual. So  much so that by 8:00 there were 30 people outside on the corner of Highland and Melrose waiting for their table. Thankfully, at Nancy’s urging and Joe the Somm’s pouring,  they all had a drink in their hand and were excited to be where they were.

If one table stood out it was 72, the hidden corner table nearest Highland and southside bar, where two Los Angeles fire fighters held court with their ladies.  They were having a ball. They were the reason people go into the restaurant busines, to have customers like that. . One of them LAFD battalion chief Richard Fields had even briefly went to the same high school as Nancy, Birmingham.

But, our host asked Krikorian if he could get them out of that table so some of the sidewalk crowd could take it. They had reveled for three and half hours, but they had the vibe of people who would get it. So Krikorian explained and they were delighted to give up their table and join Nancy and Michael at the bar for a couple more.  Alain Birnbaum, the Mozza GM, said today they were the coolest table of all time.  Patrick “Paddy” Daniel, the bartender, agreed.

So in the end, we saw some old friends and met some new ones that we will be able to one day say ‘Hello stranger, seems so good to see you back again.”

One of the servers last night was Elyssa Phillips who this reporter enjoy messing with. But she said something that I thought was beautiful. Elyssa said “Last year we were awarded a Michelin star. Tonight we showed the world what that really means.”

Damn, if I’m ending a story with a quote from Elyssa, I guess the world really has changed. Hopefully, in a positive way,

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XSa0EH0LiGk That’s a link to Barbara Lewis singing a live version Hello Stranger. Who wrote Hello Stranger? Barbara Lewis did.

TOM HANKS AND RITA WILSON LAND THE GREATEST ROLES OF THEIR CAREERS

The best news I heard this wayward week was that Tom Hanks and his Rita Wilson have the Corona virus. Talk about some comforting information in troubled times. And I sincerely mean that.

Wednesday night, I got the following text. “Tom Hanks, wife have virus”. If it had been sent from many people I know, I would have dismissed it as stupid. But, this text was from Saji Mathai, a very respected former Los Angeles Times copy editor whose life is devoted to accuracy.

I was numbed by the news. Tom Hanks and Rita have Corona? My neck radar tingled in the bad way when danger looms.  It was the Rock Hudson moment, the  Magic Johnson moment for the virus.  If Tom Hanks could get it, then no one is safe.  Gloom descend hard.

But, then, less than 30 minutes later, a strange feeling came to me. A feeling that made me kinda ashamed, even borderline cowardly, like that soldier cowering in the stairwell after the German slowly pushes the knife into the chest of the American in “Saving Private Ryan”.  Well, maybe not that bad. Still, the feeling was this; I was glad Tom Hanks got the virus. If anyone - and I’m talking anyone on Earth - should get it, Tom Hanks is the ideal person.

Certainly not because I wish him and Rita harm, but the opposite. It was because I like him so much, I respect him so much and, most importantly in these times, I trust him completely. The guy exudes a nearly long gone quality of pure honesty, of being a good person. I’m not saying he’s the only one with those qualities. Hell,  I even occasionally have them, but I am saying no one is better suited to play the role to lead us out of this uncertainty. To battle the uncharted seas, the mystery invasion.

In the small Tuscan village of Panzano in Chianti, my friend Kim Wicks, whose husband is the most famous butcher in Italy, Dario Cecchini – and who are quarantined there – was borderline thrilled to hear the news about Hanks. “In one fell swoop he has become the ambassador to de-stigmatized the whole thing. We can all watch him unveil the mystery. Because it is the unknown that freaks us all out and now, through Tom and Rita, we will go from uncertainty to some certainty. What a godsend.”

Tom and Rita will be our war correspondents sending dispatches from the front line. Finally there’ll be tweets that the world will await. Tweets that will matter to the world.

This morning I saw a tweet and photo from Tom  – with Rita looking fine as ever – and it finished with a spin on the classic line from “A League of Their Own”; “Remember, despite all the current events, there is no crying in baseball.”

There’s no crying, but there’s a whole lotta rooting. And I’m thinking, in all of history of the entire world  never has ever been more people rooting for two people to beat anything as much as they will be for Tom and Rita. There’s usually two sides to a fight. Either you want Ali or you want Frazier. Either you want Brazil or you want Argentina. Usually, as in war, there’s a bad guy, but the thing is, that bad guy thinks you’re the bad guy.

No one thinks Tom Hanks is the bad guy. The health minister in Iran, the sharecropper in Alabama, the yak farmer in Tibet, the dock worker in the Ivory Coast, the brain surgeon in Kyoto, the nurse in Bogota, the line cook from Oaxaca at Pizzeria Mozza, the point guard for the Golden State Warriors, the immigrant from Albania who works in Copenhagen, the Mercedes Formula One driver from England, everyone - other than, of course, some people who want the end of the world - are rooting for Tom and Rita.

Three years and four months ago, the day after Trump was elected,  I wrote an op-ed in the Los Angeles Times  urging people who said they were moving to Canada if he won to stay and fight. I wrote the piece because I stumbled onto watching “Saving Private Ryan” the day after the election and realized we, as a nation, had been through so much worse than having some buffoon in the White House.  We had been through World War II and Capt. Miller ( Hanks ) was gonna save Private Ryan, come hell or high. In the movie, Capt. Miller does save Ryan, but dies on a bridge.

In this real life movie, the sequel to Saving Private Ryan, the role of Tom Hanks was born to play, the greatest role of his and Rita’s life, the ending will be different.

Just as Tom Hanks ends his tweets, let me say  “hanks”. Hanks a lot.

NANCY SILVERTON GIVES RARE "4 NODS" TO GILBERTO CETINA'S MEXICAN SEAFOOD COUNTER "HOLBOX"

When Ruth Reichl tells you to go to a restaurant, go. Just go. She told this reporter Sunday afternoon to go to Holbox and before the sun had set, I was there with Nancy Silverton at a 10-seat counter in the colorful Mercado La Paloma, across the Harbor Freeway from the Coliseum.

Within three minutes, chef Gilberto Cetina, Jr, (Chichen Itza) who named this seafood gem after a car-free island off the north coast of the Yucatan Peninsula, was placing a vibrant green dish (pictured, right) before us. Nancy took a bite of this “aquachile” - Baja Half Moon scallops, lime-serrano-cilantro marinade, and avocado - and started nodding her head in silence. One nod, two.., three and then, slowly – as I watched in wonder – the rare Fourth Nod.  In the 17 years I have been eating with her, Nancy has given the 4 Nods to less than 40 dishes.

When we find out Holbox has been here, at 37th and Grand Ave., for three years, Nancy turns to me and asks “Why the hell haven’t you taken me here before? You gotta wait for Ruth to give the go ahead?’

Fortunately. three tacos show up; octopus, shrimp and yellowtail. They’re excellent. Then a grilled lobster. We eat in silence with some “damn”s and “whoa’s” tossed in.

It’s was such a delight, such a nice surprise. Thank you, Gilberto. Thank you, chef Fatima Juarez.  Thank you, host Maria.

And, oh yeah, thank you, Ruth.