The Knife

It would be fine with me if you ignored this post.

I have no business writing about it, but McDonald's is giving away Southern Style Chicken Sandwiches today (May 15), free with purchase of a medium or large drink. They are doing this because they want to gouge the business model of a smaller, Atlanta-based fast-food franchise, Chick-fil-A. I only mention this because...

I tried McDonald's chicken sandwich last week. Twice. It's not as good as Chik-fil-A's, but I really liked it.

(Oh, the shame.)

I'm like everybody else, only worse. I saw "Super Size Me." I was appropriately grossed out. I lost my inexplicable childhood taste for their hamburgers. McDonald's destroys rainforests and clogs arteries; the waste produced by a single franchise could and probably does build landfills the size of Manhattan.

And then the bastards, with their infinite number of locations, had to go rip off an even more cherished childhood taste, the Chik-fil-A. And with my closest Chik-fil-A somewhere in Redondo Beach, I was vulnerable.

Brief history: I grew up in Fort Worth, TX, where mecca was Hulen Mall and Chik-fil-A was the caterer. It was fast food built around an absurdly simple chicken sandwich: a whole chicken breast, deep-fried in a seasoned batter but somehow still juicy and pliable. No ketchup, sauce, lettuce or tomato -- just the bun and two slices of pickle.

I don't know their frying secrets (although it appears McDonald's might), but if they had somehow been able to trademark those two pickle slices, neither Chik-fil-A nor I would be in this position now. They added just the right note of tart against the junk-food flavor trifecta of salt, pepper and sugar (no processed food dodges corn syrup). The fact that McDonald's recognized this stroke of genius and had the cojones to produce such a blatant duplication because they knew perfection when they saw it -- well, I guess they deserve some credit, too.

They probably don't. I'm just telling myself that because I liked their ripoff wannabe Chik-fil-A sandwich.

Wolfgang Puck lawsuit, Pt. 2: Zwiener responds

Yesterday, I called Peter Zwiener about the Wolfgang vs.Wolfgang lawsuit. (Peter is the son of Wolfgang Zwiener of  Wolfgang's-Steakhouse-by-Wolfgang-Zweiner-who's-not-the-Wolfgang-you're-probably-thinking-about.) The younger Zwiener said he was surprised by the suit and, judging by the press release that he sent late Wednesday afternoon, I believe him.

The first three grafs basically sum up Puck's position, which is a weird strategy (although Zwiener does add the interesting tidbit that the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office recently approved the trademark Wolfgang’s Steakhouse by Wolfgang Zwiener and Puck apparently waived his right to oppose the trademark).

Then there's the boilerplate yadda from Zwiener's lawyer ("we will prevail"), followed by the more subjective defense of "uh-UH!" (Puck's places look contemporary, Zwiener's traditional; signs outside "prominently" feature Zwiener's name) and these quotes from Peter Z: 

“My father has been universally known in the steakhouse business as Wolfgang for decades, long before Mr. Puck entered the restaurant business.” “Our steakhouses have an excellent worldwide reputation for serving quality steak.”

Construction aside (Bumping quotes! Bad form!), the reputation quote reads weirdly -- what, Puck doesn't have that rep? Zwiener has its own reputation and we don't need your stupid name? A sales pitch?

My money's on that last theory, since the next three grafs are pure press kit: "star-studded," "highest-quality," "award-winning," "custom-designed," "suede-wrapped"... sorry, stopping there. It's too early for that many hyphens.

If you're made of stronger stuff, the full release is after the jump.

The Wolfgang Puck lawsuit: Yummy!

Who didn't see this one coming? Wolfgang Puck is suing Wolfgang Zwiener, the restaurateur who just opened WOLFGANG’S STEAKHOUSE BY WOLFGANG ZWIENER on Canon -- located 2 1/2 blocks away from Wolfgang Puck's flagship restaurant, Spago, also on Canon, and 6 1/2 blocks from Wolfgang Puck's steakhouse, Cut.

According to the release announcing the lawsuit:

By also prominently featuring the name “Wolfgang’s STEAKHOUSE,” and minimizing the tag-line “BY WOLFGANG ZWIENER” the lawsuit alleges that the owners and operators of “WOLFGANG’S STEAKHOUSE BY WOLFGANG ZWIENER” (one of whom is affiliated with a company whose license to use the Spago trademark in Japan ended in 2005 and Wolfgang Puck chose not to renew) are brazenly seeking to take unfair advantage of the reputation and enormous good will developed over the last 32 years by Wolfgang Puck and the Wolfgang Puck brand. In addition, the suit alleges that Mr. Zwiener has violated a 2007 agreement whereby it was agreed that if Zwiener opened a restaurant outside of Manhattan he would use his full name “Wolfgang Zwiener” in a manner which would eliminate confusion regarding any affiliation between “WOLFGANG’S STEAKHOUSE” and Wolfgang Puck.

It then goes on to say how, by running 17 fine-dining restaurants across the country, overseeing three corporations, doing TV and writing cookbooks, Wolfgang Puck is basically the essence of Wolfgang-ness and this Wolfgang wannabe is going to get sued so hard he'll wish he opened a McDonald's instead. 

"Why not use the whole name if he's so self confident?" Puck said this morning. "Sooner or later, people find out it's not us. People go (to WOLFGANG'S STEAKHOUSE) and tell me, 'I asked for you and they say you're not in.' They don't tell them it's not my place."

A little background here: Wolfgang Zwiener is no Kobe carpetbagger. He spent more than 40 years as waiter/headwaiter at venerable NYC steakhouse Peter Luger. And before he opened WOLFGANG’S STEAKHOUSE BY WOLFGANG ZWIENER on Canon, he opened WOLFGANG’S STEAKHOUSE in NYC.

When I called the WZ steakhouse on Canon this morning, I was referred to Peter Zwiener, Wolfgang Z's son, who said he'd just found out about the lawsuit and wasn't prepared to comment. (For what it's worth, the hostess answered the phone as "Wolfgang Zwiener Steakhouse Beverly Hills.")

Full disclosure: I haven't been to WOLFGANG’S STEAKHOUSE BY WOLFGANG ZWIENER and it isn't on my short list. The ubiquity of the steakhouse trend threatens to make me a vegan.

And if it weren't for the name, it doesn't sound like the sort of place that Puck would even notice. From a John Mariani review of the "original" WOLFGANG’S STEAKHOUSE in New York:

The place is blastingly noisy after 6 p.m. and there's a big raucous bar crowd of guys who seem either headed for a Knicks game or on their way to a strip club.... Is there anything new or noteworthy about Wolfgang's? Perhaps not but it is a fine addition to an already overcrowded steakhouse field. Go, you'll have a good time, but it's going to be loud and it's not going to be leisurely.

So play lawyer: On the one side you have the Wolfgang Puck brand; on the other you have a steakhouse vet, also named Wolfgang, who opened an eponymous place in New York and wants to do the same in LA. Who will win?

(Let's leave aside the likelihood that WOLFGANG’S STEAKHOUSE BY WOLFGANG ZWIENER doesn't have a chance in hell. Forget the lawyers; the restaurant industry will kill it first. The steakhouse thing has really run its course and even Puck got in just under the wire.)

My answer:  Whether or not WOLFGANG’S STEAKHOUSE BY WOLFGANG ZWIENER hopes to capitalize on Puck's "reputation and enormous good will," I will suggest Zwiener was a fool to give his restaurant that name. Not because "Wolfgang Puck" is a global conglomerate bent on world domination (although it is), or because Wolfgang Puck is the world's most successful chef (he's that, too), or even because, in LA, Wolfgang Puck himself is only slightly less ubiquitous than the Hollywood sign.

The real issue is Wolfgang Puck has legions of rich, powerful and loyal customers who don't view Puck as a celebrity chef so much as a beloved Los Angeles landmark. These are the people who eat $40 steaks in LA and my guess is they'll be as receptive to WOLFGANG’S STEAKHOUSE BY WOLFGANG ZWIENER as they would to, say, a lunatic who buys one of those phony Oscars on Hollywood Boulevard and then tries to tell you that he got to thank the Academy.

When Sean Penn's hungry, the French panic

The Cannes Film Festival begins today and runs, basically, forever -- or that's what it can feel like, which is why I wake up every morning channeling Dorothy in "The Wizard of Oz." However, Variety's film festivals editor Mike Jones isn't such a cynical wretch (it's his first Cannes); nor is he a dummy, since he managed to score a seat at the Palm D'Or chef's table on his first night in Cannes. From The Circuit:

While Sean Penn and company dined upstairs at the Palm D'Or restaurant, The Circuit was treated to the same dinner, though in the kitchen. Clearly the best table in the house, we had a front row seat to all fashion of kitchen drama, as Chef Christian Sinicropic barked orders to his frantic staff. "Hurry!  Hurry! Three minutes!"  If anyone was a few milliseconds late with sauce or plates, he pounced on them.

Palm D'Or chef Christian Sinicropic. [photo: Olivia Hemaratanatorn]

More here.

Heavy Metal Cupcake

I've got a backlog of material -- a Gallo (!) wine lunch, the "new" Bastide and a shameful new fast-food crush. But since other deadlines are having their way with me (Item 1: WHY IS VARIETY.COM RUINNING SO $%&! SLOW?), my erstwhile partner in crime has been pressed into work on the family farm.

How can you argue with prose like this:

"In a perfect world, everything would be as stark and void of color as these cupcakes. They are baneful in their absolute disdain for your tastelessness, and are true misanthropes as far as baked goods go."

That's how blog The Black Oven describes its Full Metal Cupcake -- or, as they term it, "Métal Noir." 

Here's how to make this unholy cup of cake. [with thanks to boing boing for being the divining rod]

-- D.R. Stewart

(Editor's note: This, from a man who usually despises cake.)

How to run a great restaurant: The Knife's Top Five

 

Restaurant years should be measured like dog years. Supposedly 80% of them close before the five-year mark, which is why the five-year anniversary of Grace Restaurant (celebrated in house Monday night) is such a big damn deal. A bigger damn deal: Owners Neal Fraser and Amy Knoll Fraser got married two weeks after Grace opened. Bigger still, they opened another restaurant, BLD, about two years ago. Biggest of all: The Frasers are still married.

All of which got me thinking: Why Grace? The food is great, but that's never been enough. The location is only OK (and was less so when they took the space). And Neal is no Wolfgang Puck; he'll make the rounds in his dining room, but anyone who looks at him expecting to receive the jolly-chef-song-and-dance will be rewarded with a pained smile. (And God bless him for that.)

So here are the Knife's top five reasons why Grace has been around for five years and stands to thrive for many more.

1. The courage of his convictions. Neal prepares what he finds interesting. This can mean locally sourced Santa Barbara prawns, serving water that's filtered instead of bottled, seared tempeh, Parmesan farro (which is like risotto with a conscience) or a black-chickpea salad with anchovies, which I ate at his bar a few weeks ago. It was really weird and it was really good; essentially, it was his way of having fun with the flavors of a Caesar salad. Of course, execution here is everything, but just as important is honoring his own instincts and allowing for inspiration, rather than dictation, by outside influences.

2. It's a restaurant, dammit. And in LA, that's a smart and counterintuitive thing. Opening any restaurant is an act of bravery, but in this city it takes real cojones to open a fine-dining spot that's "just" a restaurant, not a restaurant-lounge, or a tapas bar, or a small plates experience. Yes, there's a bar at Grace with a little lounge area, but it's the kind that restaurants used to have, when "Would you like a seat in the lounge?" meant you might want a glass of wine before your table was ready. 'Course, if you want to eat in the bar they'll be more than happy to whip out a placemat, but no one's going to mistake Grace for anything other than an honest-to-God restaurant.

Born today: A potentially nifty new site

A good URL is hard to find, but Camille Chu did it with www.wallflour.com. It's a handsome food and lifestyle site that's launched with some interesting posts on microroasted coffee and letterpressing, both of which make me jealous. Which is a good thing.

One caveat: I don't dig the lowercase "i." As in "The most affordable brioche loaf i have found is at Trader Joe’s." But what follows is a French toast recipe that sounds fairly awesome, especially she kicks off the post by writing, "I used to hate french toast." I feel you.

James Beard's Chefs & Champagne: Eating and Twittering this evening

The event is nearly 20 years old and usually takes place in the Hamptons; this year, we got lucky. For the first time, the James Beard Foundation is hosting its Chefs & Champagne shindig in Los Angeles. They're honoring Tom Colicchio, which is a little bit of a stretch since the Century City Craft is barely a year old, but on the other hand, as the CAA-repped head judge on Top Chef, he's about as Hollywood as you can get.

Participating restaurants: Craft, Hungry Cat, Angelini Osteria, Spago, Providence, Grace, the Foundry, Citrus at Social Hollywood, Saddle Peak Lodge, Fraiche, Patina and then some.

Location is Melrose Place; tickets are $275/$400 (standard vs. VIP; $195/$325 if your're a JBF member). Funds got to the JBF's philanthropic work.

Ticket info (last-minute works!) here. I'll be Twittering as I eat and drink: http://twitter.com/theknife.

Izze: The drink of imaginary legends

Matti Leshem and Michael Della Femina of Protagonist

Matti Leshem looks a little like the devil. Tall (maybe 6'5"), shaved head and goatee; has a penchant for expensive toys (cars, motorcycles, clothes).

And why is this The Knife's concern? Because he's also the CEO of Protagonist, a "Production/Branded Entertainment Studio based in Los Angeles" (to quote from his bio on the Huffington Post). And, among Protagonist's multiple, if not multifarious, goals is to make you crave Izze, that fizzy fruity water in the narrow can or the glass bottle. No, better than crave: take it as an article of barroom faith, something you expect to see on a bartender's credenza, next to the tonic water and the diet Coke.

Fifteen years ago, a company like Protagonist might have tried to fake you out with a plant -- an actor hired to hang out in a trendy bar or club and repeatedly order his drink of "choice," using charisma to inspire his new friends to follow suit. Today, the plant has become a full-grown terrarium -- a celebratory hothouse that springs up overnight.

Protagonist's client is Pepsi, which bought Izze from its Boulder, Colo. creators about 19 months ago. And Protagonist's job is to make Izze seem cool without seeming like they're trying to make it seem cool.

It's a classic bit of Hollywood marketing misdirection; here, the schtick is tying the drink to the celebration of "thought leaders." First it was Britney Spears attorney Laura Wasser with the "IzzeWasser" (blackberry Izze, tequila, blueberries, raspberries, lime juice, Chambord); more recently, the thought leader was the altogether imaginary Coco De Ville, created to celebrate the eponymous "spirit" of a new La Cienega Blvd. lounge next to STK, part of the One Group empire -- the kind of spot that includes an underground car park with private elevator, the better to shuttle the paparazzi bait.

So, what does a nonexistent legend drink? An Izze de Ville is lime, orange, mint, simple syrup, vodka, pomegranate liqueur and pomegranate Izze. It's not bad; imagine a Cosmopolitan with some diet Sprite and you're pretty close.

Of course, a night of Izze de Ville makes only for a page of WireImage photos. But that's fine; Leshem plans to honor another half dozen or so thought leaders in various locales before the year is out. Next up is East Hampton, but who's the lucky subject?

At the Coco de Ville bar, Leshem asks a producer friend: "Hey, you want a drink named after you? You going to be in the Hamptons this summer?"

Fourth of July weekend, the producer says. He's drinking bottled water.

"What do you like? What kind of fruit?"

Grapefruit's good, he says. And blueberries are nice.

"Hey, that's great. We've got a grapefruit Izze; we haven't done that one yet.

"You hear that?" Leshem crows. "He's our next drink, right here. You're watching history being made."

Bacaro: How to be lost

Found Bacaro last night. Located in West Adams just northwest of downtown LA, it's not the sort of place you're likely to stumble on unless you're a USC student. Turn the wrong way on Union, as I did, and you'll find yourself muttering, "You have got to be kidding me."

But the GPS doesn't lie (although it occasionally chides: After punching in the address for the third time, it finally refused to give me further direction beyond, "Please check the map. You are very close to your destination."). Bacaro is on a funny little slice of Union, between 23rd and 24th streets. More importantly, it's worth seeking out. Bacaro is like the emo, low-budget little brother of Lou.

One wall is a blackboard that lists all the drink (red, white, sparkling, beer) and the food (bruschettas, almonds and olives, cheese, soft polenta with braised beef). The lists aren't long, which is just as well as the staff is small and might otherwise be overwhelmed. I had a "flight" of roses (I'd call two glasses more of a puddlejumper, but they were both delicious) and a glass of "Pezzalunga," (an Italian blend, five grapes), which had a bit of a tang on the front that wasn't my style. However, the owner also poured us a free sample of Cesanese di Olevano Romano, a delicious wine produced from the grape I only knew previously as the primary element in Savanna Samson' s Sogne Uno.

Wine from eccentric grapes, roses and soft polenta. I don’t care where I am; next time, I'll find it without a hitch.

Bacaro, 2308 S. Union Ave. (213) 748-7205