Posts Tagged ‘los angeles’

Josef Centeno’s Bar Amá Coming Soon…

Sunday, December 9th, 2012


Within a week, we’ll be able to try out Josef Centeno’s new concept, Bar Amá, a hat-tip to Tex-Mex style food and to his Grandmother. Should be awesome!

La Cevicheria, Los Angeles – A Guatemalan-Style Seafood Paradise

Tuesday, November 22nd, 2011


Ceviche is one of the most popular dishes in all of Latin America. In its most basic form, is raw seafood and lime juice and aided by the magical denaturation powers of citric acid on proteins. A sea creature that was once alive and kicking, is converted into an edible form simply through a few minutes of exposure to citric acid. Although modern historians commonly agree that ceviche was originated in Peru possibly by the indigenous civilizations, this whole debate gets Latin American countries a bit riled up. Depending on where the ceviche is from, spellings include cebiche or seviche. The Spanish as if they really needed more evidence of their impact on the Americas, claim that limes and lemons were brought over by the Moors, which they had taken along with them during war. Prior to their “contribution” to the Americas, the indigenous civilizations were using other types of acidic fruit – not limes or lemons. The word cebiche is also very similar to the Spanish word escabeche, which means pickling. A funny and unbelievable theory for the derivation of the word ceviche comes from a Peruvian scholar who says that the English seamen that arrived on the Peruvian coast were ridden with cankered mouths and scurvy-like diseases. They saw the indigenous eating “raw fish cooked with fruit juices” and tried it themselves. Upon eating the delicious ceviche, they reacted with a loud “son of a bitch”, due to the hot peppers and ample usage of citric juices that caused their diseased mouth sores to burn. Though unintelligible to the Indians, they remembered the sound uttered by the English. “Would you like a seviche (son of a bitch)?”, they began to ask. I don’t buy it though. Some even say this is a South Pacific/Polynesian-influenced dish (i.e. Hawaii’s poké).

Each of the Latin American countries have claimed their own ceviche by adding their own touches with herbs, chiles and various types of seafood proteins. In Peru, you’re likely to eat a lime-based ceviche with aji pepper, served with cold sweet potatoes and corn. In Mexico, ceviche is served with tomatoes, cilantro, onions and sometimes with ketchup/hot sauce over crunchy tostadas. In Colombia, the ceviche we ate was very similar to Peruvian-style but with the addition of light cream and honey for a sweet, delectable version. A former Ecuadorian coworker explains to me that tomatoes are used heavily in Ecuador with their ceviches and served with crispy plantain chips.  In the Caribbean islands, you’re likely to have a version of ceviche not with fish nor shrimp, but with conch (la concha) or clams. To me it’s what makes ceviche an even more interesting and appetizing dish – that a country can call it its own. The truth is, regardless of the origin, ceviche is going to be good and I find it quite difficult to get bored with such a refreshing dish.

After eating Mexican, Peruvian, Panamanian (by the end of this week!) and Colombian-style ceviches, I thought I had a general understanding of the various types of ceviche that exist. But I would be further educated and enlightened upon stepping into La Cevicheria in Mid-City. But don’t mistaken the turquoise-colored building for any ordinary Latino seafood restaurants. Through the black security door, it’s a Guatemalan seafood paradise.


I’ve been here four times already and besides the food, what brings me back is the service and treatment you get from the owners, Julio and Carolina Orellana of Guatemala City, Guatemala. Carolina is the head chef, with her funny, energetic husband running the front of the house. Get used to Julio because he’s a true character, and will continue checking up on you to make sure everything you’re eating is delicious and toss out a few here-and-there jokes. I’ve seen him spend a good 5-7 minutes with newcomers, finding out what exactly they were in the mood for. Spotting a few dishes that had some Mexican (Veracruz, Campeche) and Caribbean influence, I asked the Orellanas if everything on the menu was considered “Guatemalan”. They replied that they consider their restaurant more of an international restaurant, celebrating their favorite Latin American foods from. When I asked Julio about his ethnicity initially, he said, “I am 100% Guatemalan, but I look like a white guy. I am a cup of Guatemalan coffee with way too much milk and cream.”  That yellow sauce you see is mustard mixed with a lot of habanero chiles and attitude – I call it “yellow Sriracha” (Sriracha amarilla). Whether or not it is a common Guatemalan condiment, I love it on everything I eat here.


“Chapin” ceviche.
The dish you’ll inevitably see on every table is the ceviche. There will be a few diners eating a whole fried fish, some eating tacos and burritos. But there’s always a goblet of goodness known as ceviche. Although La Cevicheria offersAnd what makes Guatemalan ceviche different than its Latin American counterparts is the use of mint and Worcestershire Sauce (spanish: salsa Inglesa, English sauce).  Pictured above is the chapin, which is shrimp, octopus and imitation crab. Though to this day, I’m puzzled by the ample usage of imitation crab in Latino cuisine when they have access to the WHOLE SEA, this is a beautiful blend of seafood, mint, avocado and Worcestershire. Served on crunchy tostadas that Julio buys specifically from a vendor in East Los Angeles, you’ll be asking for more edible plates to scoop up the rest of your goblet. Try crumbling the Saltine crackers in your ceviche too.


“Bloody Clam” ceviche.
Despite the name and look of it, this is what I highly recommend over the chapin. When the bloody clams (concha negra/pata de mula, which means “mule’s foot”) are chopped, the heavy amount of dark-colored hemoglobin is released, giving it its appearance. According to this great posting on La Cevicheria, Chef Orellana uses a type of blood cockle called anadara granosa. Mixed with the lime juice, Worcestershire, mint and tomatoes, this is one concoction you’d likely see Marilyn Manson walking around cemeteries with. But it’s good… The earthiness of the clams really balances out the acids. But the best part of this dish is the leche de tigre (tiger’s milk) – the remaining liquid from the clams, lime juice and Worcestershire. It is strong enough to revive the hungover, awaken the dead and provide hours of fun with your significant other.


Fish Taco and Caldo de Camaron (Shrimp Soup).
If there’s a fish taco on the menu, I’m going to get it. How can one resist a piece of nicely fried Pollack fish wrapped with cabbage and a tortilla. But you can’t even begin eating this until you’ve added the “yellow Sriracha”, which takes this your standard fish taco to another level, in my opinion. I have approached the Orellanas about the possibility of bottling and selling the Sriracha amarilla. Hopefully Huy Fong isn’t reading this right now. Another thing I love to eat is caldo de camaron. I’ve eaten delicious versions in Ensenada, Tulum and Mexico City, but I can’t figure out why a lot of places in Los Angeles overcook the shrimp. But Chef Carolina puts some major care and this – I really enjoyed this here.


Mariscada Caribeña (Caribbean-style Seafood Stew with Rice)
Just when I thought I had eaten the best of what La Cevicheria had to offer, Julio insists that I try this out. As I was talking to him about this, my eyes focused on the wall with Jonathan Gold’s review of this restaurant, with a large photo of the mariscada caribeña. By now, my friend and I were about to tap out but I’m glad we didn’t. The seafood stew reminds me of a soupier version of seafood risotto. The shrimp, mussels and calimari are cooked beautifully, and the sauce is simply amazing. If you want a comforting dish that will make you miss your mother, order this.


Aguachiles (Mexican Shrimp in Chile & Cucumber Sauce)
Like I said, it’s a never-ending parade of food here at La Cevicheria. This dish comes with a dozen shrimp but Julio was nice enough to sell 1/2 a dozen to us. Aguachiles is a Sinaoloan-Nayarit dish that consists of butterflied shrimp cooked in lime juice for a short time and drenched in a bright, green sauce made of chiles, cucumbers and cilantro. I was first introduced to this dish by Chef Sergio Eduardo Penuelas of Mariscos Chente and since then, look for it every time I’m eating at a mariscos restaurant. At first, you’ll see a mound of green salsa and red onions, but a closer look, reveals the shrimp completely buried in the blended sauce. This dish isn’t for everyone especially if you’re not in to the texture of raw shrimp. But this dish is beautiful, very naked and sexy. Love Chef Carolina’s version a little bit more than Marisco Chente’s.


Come say hello to Julio and Carolina Orellana. Hope you enjoy this place as much as I do. Thanks for reading.

La Cevicheria
3809 W Pico Blvd
Los Angeles, CA 90019
(323) 732-1253
Closed mondays, cash only.

Hong Kong-Style Wontons in Los Angeles

Friday, October 28th, 2011

If you ask any immigrant in America what they miss the most from their homeland, you’re likely to hear: family, city life, monuments and of course food. But if you ask any Chinese person from Hong Kong what they miss the most from their homeland, you’re not going to hear all of that. You’re only going to hear one thing: wontons. I don’t know what it is, but if you’re from Hong Kong, you will know what I mean. The Chinese are simply picky about their food, that’s for sure, and they will all claim to have the ultimate palate. This applies to even the poorest of Chinese who will ensure that even their most basic meal of bone soup, meat scraps and day-old vegetables will be as delicious as a meal at an expensive restaurant. This same high-standard applies to wontons, which people from Hong Kong are proud of. All people from Hong Kong will tell you that nothing compares to the wontons in Hong Kong. Wontons are the one thing that can conjure up childhood memories and in some cases, instigate a loud, uncomfortable debate as I have seen happen before. As long as I can remember, my mother has been raving about the high standards in wonton-making in Hong Kong. She reminisces about a time when she could literally walk to any street hawker on the corner for a solid bowl of wonton noodle soup for only $.50. She distinctly remembers the “bite” and “bounce” of each wonton and the slippery, pleasant texture of the thin wonton wrapper. She describes a soup that is full of umami from hours of boiling slightly charred dried flounder, shrimp shells and pork bones. Thin, golden noodles that are by standard, cooked al-dente and require a more powerful bite to break through than your standard egg noodle. But at that time, I wasn’t interested in wontons. I was young and cared for nothing more than a happy meal with a cheap, plastic toy.

It wasn’t until I was 10 years old, that I finally got to experience the one thing that connected my mother to her Hong Kong roots. I remember walking with my family through the labyrinth of Hong Kong’s alleyways, which comprised of shops, restaurants and various businesses. I remember all of the various odors, good, chemical-like and putrid, that filled the streets. The sounds of indistinct chatter and honking taxis. Sensory overload for sure. But once we arrived at the wonton noodle shop, our senses were reset and our attention shifted to what we were about to eat. My parents walked up to the chef who was usually positioned at the front window of the restaurant to attract “window-eaters”. They ordered a few bowls of wontons and like a machine, the cook started making the bowls. At these typical noodle eateries, the window station usually consists of two huge cauldrons of boiling hot water: one to cook the noodles and one to cook wontons, dumplings or fish/beef balls. The flour from the noodle run-off can effect the way a wonton is cooked so there are separate pots. The windows were sometimes a bit foggy from the hot steam and you could barely make out a person cooking behind. The cook quickly grabbed a few strands of noodles and dipped them in one of the pots for no more than 30 seconds and gracefully laid the noodles in a bowl. He then grabbed a few sphere-shaped wontons and threw them in a strainer and dipped the strainer into the other pot of boiling water for no more than 2 mins and shook off the excess water. The steaming wontons were placed in the bowl and topped with a beautiful, dark brown broth and garnished with chopped, yellow chives (gau wong 韭黄) – not scallions. All of this happened in under 5 minutes and cost no more than $2 that time.

Did I forget to mention just how serious and obsessive my mother is with her wontons? We headed back to the table and began to eat. But before I could dig in, I was introduced to my mother’s ritual of wonton-eating that turned a bowl of soup noodles into a 3-dish affair. I watched as she removed all the noodles from the bowl and placed them on a separate plate so that the noodles would not get soggy. She then seasoned the noodles with red vinegar and chili oil. What she was really doing was pushing all the “distractions” such as noodles aside. Now in her bowl, were floating wontons that had about 10 more minutes of existence. Again she grabbed a bottle of red vinegar, dyed the soup red and topped the soup off with a tablespoon of the house-made chili oil. The soup was no longer a dark brown, but a bright red concoction with specks of burnt red chili flakes and tiny pools of orange chili oil. On another plate, she made her “dipping sauce” by adding a few tablespoons of chili oil and again, dousing it with red vinegar. It was completely natural for her to do this with zero hesitation. She would eat a wonton, drink some soup and eat some noodles. Repeating this until the bowl had not a single drop left. I basically copied what she did and enjoyed my first bowl of wontons. It was truly amazing.  I would wait another 11 years before my next bowl of Hong Kong wontons and it wasn’t until my most recent visit in 2008 that I really cherished the Hong Kong-style wonton and fully took in what my mother had obsessed over since she left for the United States in 1972. I ate this nearly everyday for 10 days straight.

But what makes a Hong Kong-style wonton versus wontons from Shanghai or Taiwan? Most wontons from Northern China or Taiwan seem to be heavy on pork, maybe even consisting only of pork. They are of course delicious in their own right, but not exactly what I’m looking for. It is easier to find an authentic bowl of Vietnamese beef noodle soup or Chinese beef noodle soup here in the U.S. than it is to find an authentic bowl of wontons. The Hong Kong wonton is a beautiful marriage of pork and shrimp in a neatly wrapped wonton skin – almost 50/50. The mixture is brought together by corn starch and in some cases, egg whites. It is hand mixed with usually a pair of chopsticks versus an electric mixer. The process of hand mixing also allows air to get incorporated into the filling to create a slight “bounce” in the final cooked product. The longer you mix, the finer the filling is and “bouncier” it is – it is good not to over mix the filling as you don’t want to overwork pizza dough. It is also boiled just long enough for the pork and shrimp to be cooked about 75% through. Inside, there is a nice subtle taste of white pepper and dried flounder-infused juices from the broth.  A good cook will know just by looking at the wrapper if the wonton is overcooked. I believe the wonton was first brought down to Southern China from the North in a heavy-on-pork variation. But it was the Chiu Chow Chinese who, with their access to seafood, added the touch of shrimp into the mix. The usage of dried fish or squid in soup is also a critical attribute in Chiu Chow cuisine. Such a simple thing, yet only decades of Chinese culinary technique and experimentation can yield such a beautiful dish.

Naturally, what does one do back home in Los Angeles after eating an amazing bowl of wontons in Hong Kong? He or she searches for something comparable. And almost always, it is a depressing, futile effort. We have an amazing resource/community in Southern California called San Gabriel Valley and it is the largest Chinese enclave in the US. Nowadays, it is also English for “Mainland China”.  But even the SGV is lacking in the wonton department – I’ve done my research and even defaulted to my mom for final judgment. Most often times, she responds with a head shake haha.


My mother’s ancient ritual of removing the noodles from the bowl. Thanks for passing on the pickiness trait.

How to Enjoy Wonton Noodles
I’m not the Noodle Whore for no reason and I owe the “noodle promiscuity” to both my father and mother. I grew up on noodles, I make soup noodles at home, I dream of noodles, eat noodles 3-4 times a week and I will go in peace with a bowl of noodles in my coffin. And I just want to make sure that you enjoy wonton noodles the right way.  Totally fine by me if you eat it as is.

Set up your wonton dipping sauce.
Not having dipping sauce is like Chris Tucker said in the movie Friday, “you got ham but no burger”. Or like sushi with no soy sauce and wasabi. In a bowl or plate, add 1 big tablespoon of chili oil and 2 tablespoons of red vinegar. If you see Sriracha, Tapatio or white vinegar on the table, leave right away – it’s a wonton imposter!

Ordering your noodles.
I can’t stand it when noodles or pasta are overcooked. It’s the rain on a parade. It’s the 3rd wheel/best friend that interrupts your hot date night. Always let the server know that you want your noodles “chewier or harder”. The Japanese are so technical that they even allow you to specify your noodle texture in ramen (Shin Sen Gumi). So why not do the same with your wontons? In Cantonese Chinese, you can say meen yiew song dee which literally means “I’d like my noodles chewier”. In Mandarin Chinese, you can say mian yao QQ yi dian which literally means “I’d like my noodles a bit more chewy”. “QQ” (pronounced keew-keew) is a term used to signify chewiness, especially in Mainland and Taiwanese cuisine. Trust me, this makes all the difference.

Customizing your broth.
If you ever use soy sauce in your soup, my mother might come busting through the walls like the Kool-Aid Man on a pound of heroine and spank you silly with a feather duster. If you have to use soy sauce in your wonton noodles, you’re probably at a bastardized Chinese place. Again, get up quietly and leave. Really the only thing I suggest for your soup is a little white pepper, red vinegar and some chili oil. Resist the Sriracha, please!

Eat your wontons right away.
While I was shooting the food for this posting, I probably delayed eating for nearly 3 minutes. If the soup is piping hot, 3 minutes is more than enough time for your noodles to go to Soggytown. And it really sucks. Wontons don’t have much of a threshold for sogginess, so eat them right away for “premium fantasy”.

Wontons with or without soup?
At most places you can order your wontons in soup or what we say in Cantonese Chinese, “gon low“, which literally means “dry mixed”. Usually, if you order it this way, you get a dollop of oyster sauce on the noodles and eat the wontons naked. I was never into this style of wontons and definitely prefer the watery version. To me wontons and oyster sauce are like rival gangs.


Wontons and wonton-like objects in Los Angeles
Until Cathay Pacific offers a reasonable price for a roundtrip ticket to Hong Kong, you might have to settle with these places. I’ve given up trying to find the ultimate wonton shop but have found some places definitely worth checking out or not. Here are my thoughts on a few Los Angeles wonton eateries.

Noodle Boy, Rosemead.
You may have had Chef Andrew Yu’s wontons before if you’ve eaten at Wonton Time. A few years ago, it closed and since then been replaced by yet another permutation of a wonton noodle shop called The Congee. Yu has re-opened in the back of a strip mall in Rosemead. One look at Chef Yu’s short spiky hair with pig tail and I knew he was from Hong Kong – it’s the standard young-guy hairstyle in Hong Kong.  That haircut may not get you the ladies but at least you exude authenticity. But haircut aside, Yu definitely makes a solid bowl of wonton noodles. When I first walked in, I was hit with the overpowering smell of dried flounder in the broth – a great sign. The clientele were surely Cantonese-Chinese people and almost all were eating wonton noodles. Another good sign is old Chinese people dining as they are THE most picky and experienced of all Chinese, self-appointed food critics. Yu’s soup is solid and absolutely delicious. The noodles are cooked al dente. The only thing I don’t understand is the wonton itself. It is massive and almost 100% made of shrimp – like 3-4 pieces of shrimp inside. Yu cooks it beautifully with a good amount of bite but the wonton ratio itself is off as there needs to be some pork. Still, this place may be the best in SGV.

The Congee, Alhambra.
This was formerly known as Wonton Time, Chef Yu’s previous wonton noodle shop. Before Yu re-surfaced, this was the prime location for wontons. Unfortunately this place is pretty average, but still better than places like Sam Woo. They also serve massive wontons like Noodle Boy. The soup doesn’t really have that dried flounder taste.

Noodle Bistro, San Gabriel – CLOSED.
My mom had introduced this to me and told me that it was “okay”, which I took to mean that it was actually good. The first time I went there with my mom and ordered up. The waitress saw how particular she was in her requests and made sure the chef was aware that he was about to cook wontons for the Chinese version of Tom Colicchio. And it was great, everything was on point. But something happened a few months later as I returned. My mom not being there, a chef change, an overall bad day? It wasn’t good at all. The wontons were heavy on pork and even had a really thick, dark-yellow siu mai-like wrapper – not normal. Well, you couldn’t try this anyway since it’s now closed.

Happy Harbor, Alhambra
Upon walking in to this place, I immediately thought I was in Hong Kong. The staff, clientele and decor exuded “Hong Kong”. Most of the diners were eating steamed rice rolls (cheung fun), porridge and Chinese donuts. Although wonton noodles are on the menu, it didn’t seem to be the main hit here. I went ahead and tried it anyway. Looking at it, it looked promising. The soup was OK but missed that seafood umami note. The wontons were nice in size with a decent amount of pork and shrimp but again something was missing. It wasn’t bad nor was it memorable. I’d go with Noodle Boy again.

Wonton Forest, City of Industry – CLOSED.
I never got to try this before it closed last year. But I had heard from many people that it was decent. Looking at photos of the wontons itself on blogs, I can tell the mixture of pork and shrimp seems right on but of course, it comes down to the taste. Fans of Wonton Forest, I’d like to hear your eulogy.

Harlam’s Kitchen, Rosemead.
Tucked inside a supermarket food court is Harlam’s Kitchen. When I first saw this, I was stoked that the word “wonton” was in the Chinese business name. But this place was a little bit better than Sam Woo. Simply put, there wasn’t much love put in it.

Hong Kong Cafes and Sam Woo-Like Restaurants, SGV.
Like Chinese beef noodle soup, wontons are a common staple in Hong Kong Western-style cafes and Sam Woo-like restaurants. The menus are so extensive that it really is impossible for the cooks to ensure quality in every dish. To me, these are the coldest, heart-less bowls of wontons. Soggy wontons, soggy noodles and universal chicken broth. At these establishments, speed is the essence, not quality. If there is a particular cafe you know of, I’d be up to trying it out.

Vietnamese and Chiu Chow Chinese Restaurants
Yes, the Chiu Chow Chinese had a lot to do with the Hong Kong-style wonton but like Sam Woo, these restaurants feature so many different things on their menu and it simply isn’t their forté like beef or fish ball soup noodles are. Vietnamese restaurants that serve “hu tieu wonton” are simply offering their version of the Chiu Chow wonton. In these establishments, they love using the dark, yellow wrappers and the wonton fillings seem to be heavy on pork and black pepper. Still tasty of course!


New Dragon Chinese Restaurant, Chinatown.
But then God shined his rays on a tiny, hole-in-the-wall called New Dragon Chinese Restaurant. In my continuous search for food in the wasteland of bastardized Chinese restaurants and tourist knick-knack shops known as Chinatown, I was lucky to stumble across this place. It’s true that if you look hard enough, you can find things and I think I’ve definitely found some hidden gems like my former favorite, New Kamara, Buu Dien, Mien Nghia and Hoan Kiem. The thing is, I wouldn’t have found this if I didn’t know how to read Chinese as the English name has nothing to do with the Chinese name. It may be the New Dragon Chinese restaurant to you, but to Chinese people it is known literally as “Wonton Dynasty”. I drove by one day and decided to give it a shot since the name itself was a bold statement.

I’ll admit I wasn’t interested once I stepped into the restaurant. Bad decor, a lot of jurors are on their lunch break, color photos of beef & broccoli on the wall and a fish tank with two puny, sickly lobsters. If I asked the waitress in English what she recommended, she probably would have suggested beef & broccoli. But instead, I asked in Chinese and she responded with, “wonton noodles”. You may not know this, but some restaurants will suggest dishes to you based on your ethnicity – they’re judgmental like that haha. “Wonton noodles, noodles extra chewy please,” I said. I learned that the chef is originally from Guangzhou, China and moved to Hong Kong to become a chef. Chef Lau moved to Los Angeles in 1985 and has been cooking in various kitchens throughout Los Angeles.


Left to right: my dipping sauce on a separate plate and munching on tasty, wok-fried pea sprouts in fermented fish sauce.


And finally, my wonton noodles arrived. Looking at it, the dish looked awesome. I liked that the wontons weren’t massive. Though they were not the typical sphere-shape, I was liking this guerilla, unconventional style of wrapping wontons. The soup was piping hot and the noodles were cooked as ordered. I first tried the soup and it was excellent, with Noodle Boy’s slightly better. A great hint of the dried flounder, not too salty and not too sweet. And then I bit into the wontons… although they weren’t as authentic looking as Noodle Boy’s, the taste was quite similar to that I’ve had in Hong Kong. The wontons were small in comparison to Noodle Boy’s, but the ratio of pork and shrimp was good and had a nice “bite” to it. And most importantly, there was that perfect amount of dried flounder taste and white pepper. There was no overpowering taste of ground pork for once. The skins itself were so slippery and toothsome. And I really enjoyed this.


And I leave you with a ridiculously large, extreme close-up of the wonton in hopes that you’ll get up soon to go try this. Look, even the wonton shed a tear because it will never be a real-deal Hong Kong wonton. To date, I think I’ve been here at least 20 times and have gotten a dozen friends into it. But I’m afraid to send my mom here as I know what she’ll say – “it’s not like Hong Kong”. Though some days Chef Lau is on, sometimes he’s off. Sometimes there’s another cook making my wontons because I can see Chef Lau reading his newspaper. And almost always, the other cooks are overcooking the noodles so make sure you request chewy noodles. But overall, this is what I’ve come to like because like many other Hong Kongers, we yearn for the real thing which we can’t get. So until my next trip to Hong Kong, this will do. Give New Dragon a shot and enjoy these comforting, almost-Hong Kong-but-not-really wontons. Oh yeah, order a plate of garlic Morning glory, Chinese broccoli with oyster sauce or pea sprouts with fermented fish sauce. Chef Lau is a very good cook and if I’m not in the mood to drive to SGV for Cantonese food, this definitely does the trick over Full House and Master Chef. Thanks for reading.

New Dragon Chinese Restaurant
924 N Hill St
Los Angeles, CA 90012
(213) 626-6050
Monday – Sunday 10 am – 10 pm
Credit cards are amazingly accepted