Eiswein. (A tribute to E.)

E and I met freshman year of high school, in Mr. Knox's Geometry class. We were seated, one behind the other; her last name is "Shih" and mine is "Shin." After four years of high school together, our friendship reached new heights when we decided to dorm together during our first year of college. We became closer upon realization that we shared not only OCD tendencies, but also an interest in everything foreign, which is why we both decided to study abroad for the duration of our senior year.

It has only been four years since our days of carefree living (she in Hong Kong and yours truly in Tokyo) and backpacking (she in various parts of Southeast Asia and yours truly in Japan). But we've come a long way since then. She is now in Ann Arbor, Michigan, working on a Master's degree to change the world, one underdeveloped nation at a time. I am now in Los Angeles, California, working on a law degree to change the world, one wronged person at a time.

Last Christmas, E brought me a bottle of Peller Estate Vidal Icewine from her trip to Niagara Falls. I was so excited to try it, but just as reluctant to pop the cork. Only a very special occasion could justify the devirginization. This past weekend was my mom's birthday, so in honor of her birthday, I brought out the good stuff. For those of you who have not had icewine before, icewine is a dessert wine that is made by fermenting grapes that froze on the vine. The sugars of the grapes are extremely concentrated, producing a very sweet wine, but in small amounts. E let me know that you're supposed to pour modest servings and enjoy the wine in small sips. Needless to say, we finished the entire bottle in one sitting. (I'm noticing that I have a habit of doing this.) A very happy birthday to me.

If any of you are traveling to the Niagara Falls any time soon, please let me know.

Grilled cheese.

This is not your average grilled cheese sandwich:


None of that Kraft Singles crap. We're talking about quality ingredients: caramelized shallots, hand-sliced country French bread, and EMMENTALER cheese. Toasted in butter, then broiled in the oven. Golden brown on the outside. Bubbly and gooey on the inside. Served with a side of arugula tossed in a lemon vinaigrette.

Months ago, I had found this recipe in the L.A. Times. I knew that my brother would love it. (Like his sister, he, too, is pretentious and loves Gruyère cheese.) I could not wait to make it for him. And today, I finally got my chance - my brother came home for spring break.

The original recipe calls for Cantal cheese. But with no luck at both Vons or Trader Joe's, I have concluded that one can only find Cantal cheese in France. So it came down to a coin toss between Emmentaler and Gruyère. It was an excruciating decision, but let me just say that Gruyère is good, but Emmentaler is goooooood.

My brother loved it. I am so happy that my brother is home.

Goldilocks and the 3 Bears.

One of the best feelings in the world, including fortuitously finding cash in your pants pocket, is receiving an email with the header: "CLASS CANCELLED."

To celebrate this joyous occasion, my roommate and I took Eleanor for a morning stroll and had some breakfast at Le Pain Quotidien on Larchmont. Le Pain Quotidien is our new favorite place on Larchmont, along with Larchmont Village Wine & Cheese (their sandwiches are amazing), Village Pizzeria (think NY, not Chicago), and Girasole (great pasta, bad service). If Ina Garten ever came to Larchmont, she would eat at Le Pain Quotidien; everything is organic and everything sounds French. So it only makes sense that I would love this place.

Their coffee is perfect.


We ordered something sweet (Porridge with farro, almond milk, walnuts, cranberries, and sliced strawberries on top; hence, the title)...


and something savory (Croissant with Paris ham and Gruyere cheese, served with 3 different types of mustard) to share. C and I always say that we'd make the perfect lesbian couple. We really would. (Sorry, HKT and BP.)


For the past 2 years, I have been trying to fall in love with LA, as I did with NY. It just hasn't been working out; West LA reeks of silicone, Downtown reeks of piss, Koreatown reeks of Marlboro lights, Little Tokyo reeks of tourists and Los Feliz reeks like an antique store. But Larchmont - Larchmont, I love.