An online ad just popped up on my email that pretty well defies the conundrum of Mother’s Day for me. It read “Show Mom some love: Spoil mom this Mother’s Day with a delightful brunch … enjoy a delicious spread, a stunning view and celebrate the amazing woman in your life.”
The Mother’s Day menu goes on to detail the joys of steak and eggs, a burger with caramelized onion, fish tacos and huevos rancheros — dishes that would very likely satisfy none of the mothers in my family.
If my mother were still with us, she’d prefer a corned beef sandwich on rye, heavy on the coleslaw. My mother-in-law would probably lean toward a nice brunch of branzino, preceded by a Lemon Drop cocktail, and followed by a Lemon Drop cocktail. My wife would find happiness with a nice big plate of mixed sushi rolls and sashimi.
The standard Father’s Day feed of a steak dropped in the Weber, and a 12 pack of beer, would win no points. (We men are such simple creatures.)
Mother’s Day may be the most difficult holiday of the year — even more difficult than Valentine’s Day, which is generally accepted as a scam for selling cards and boxes of candy. Mother’s Day is taken seriously by mothers. It’s a day to tread lightly.
Mother’s Day didn’t exist until 1914. Not because nobody had thought of it, but because the U.S. Congress was opposed to it. In 1908, Congress rejected a proposal to make Mother’s Day an official holiday. … You read that right; Congress voted against motherhood. They thought the notion was a joke, and argued more than a little absurdly that it would lead to more holidays, like Mother-in-Law’s Day. (You think we’ve got an obstructionist Congress now? Given the opportunity, they probably would have voted against the flag and apple pie as well!)
But thanks to the creator of Mother’s Day — peace activist Anna Jarvis — in 1914 President Woodrow Wilson got around Congress with a proclamation designating the second Sunday in May as a national holiday to honor motherhood.
And who was Anna Jarvis? As an activist, she had cared for wounded soldiers on both sides during the American Civil War, during which she created Mother’s Day Work Clubs to deal with public health issues. And when her own mother died in 1905, she began a campaign to create a special day to honor motherhood. She had the support of the growing women’s rights movement, including suffragette Julia Ward Howe, who made a Mother’s Day proclamation in 1870.
It took 44 years for that notion to finally be adopted. But only a decade for it to be turned into one of the biggest sales days of the year for greeting cards, and boxes of candy.
Which, for the record, upset Anna Jarvis so much she organized boycotts of companies selling cards, and showed up to protest at a candymaker’s convention in Philadelphia in 1923. She wanted the day kept pure and non-commercial, with mothers being thanked with hand-written letters. She even objected to the selling of flowers. How she would feel about the notion of taking mothers out for nice meals can only be imagined.
And ironically, the founder of Mother’s Day never married, and had no children of her own.
But, back to the notion of Mother’s Day meals. I suspect Anna Jarvis would have insisted you have to do the cooking yourself, giving mom a day off. But a massive culinary industry has grown over the years, with restaurants gifting moms with flowers, and family groups gathering around large tables to offer more boxes of See’s Candy than seems rational.
Growing up back east, fancier folks than I would take their moms to somewhat fussy, upscale restaurants with names like Patricia Murphy’s Candlelight, and the fabled Tavern on the Green in New York’s Central Park. By contrast, nothing made my working-class mother happier than a mixed plate of brisket and corned beef at a local deli. My wife often opts for dim sum as often as sushi. My mother-in-law loves both branzino and IHOP.
So, my selection of restaurants is a bit random. But they lean toward the nicer side. I still think that the notion of handing mom a rose when she enters is a fine gesture. But then, I miss wearing ties too. Times change. And as my mother used to say: “Everyday should be Mother’s Day.” Right she was.
Saddle Peak Lodge
419 Cold Canyon Road, Calabasas; 818-222-3888, www.saddlepeaklodge.com
Brunch at Saddle Peak Lodge makes you wonder why would you ever want to live anywhere else?
Saddle Peak is a restaurant with a history. It dates back at least a century — a brochure available at the entrance titled “History” suggests no one is really sure — as a destination for gold miners, a campsite, a general store, a roadhouse, a movie set and a weekend retreat. Since 1985, its current incarnation has been as an upscale dining destination, for those with a penchant for game; elk, buffalo and emu are all found on the menu, separately, and together on a Chef’s Game Trio.
But game is found just once on the brunch menu, for which most opt to sit outdoors, on the patio with its view of the distant Saddle Peak, its humming birds, its foraging critters and the occasional wedding on the edge of the patio.
The menu is decidedly fancy, a sit-down brunch (rather than a buffet, which would probably thrill the foraging critters!), with dishes that are recognizable — but also given a steroid boost to make them so much more than they usually are.
But first, let us deal with the skillet hoecake. The popular story behind the name comes from the contention that field hands would cook cornmeal over an open fire, using their hoes as skillets. Which is sweet — and possibly apocryphal. For there’s also evidence that “hoe” was simply a colloquialism for a skillet. Whatever; the hoecake at Saddle Peak is an essential side dish — or as the menu refers to it, “For the table” (along with the wild game sausage trio, the goodie basket of breads, the bacon, breakfast potatoes and fruit) — and a joy to dig into. It’s served in a small skillet, dripping with maple syrup, and impossible to resist. This is time to forgo your low-carb diet; it’s worth it.
The brunch menu meanders from a proper platter of house-cured smoked Norwegian salmon with a toasted bagel, cream cheese, cucumbers, red onions, tomatoes and capers; through a goat cheese and broccoli quiche, a salmon or bacon eggs Benedict, a flat iron steak with eggs, French toast or buttermilk waffles. The choices do not include anything that might be confused with a Denny’s breakfast Slam — though I guess you could create one with the two-egg side added on to the waffles. But I’ve long preferred the lunch side of brunch to the breakfast side. And Saddle Peak does not disappoint.
The flat iron steak certainly pays homage to the savory joys of lunch. But even more so, there’s the rosemary roast leg of lamb sandwich with sweet potato fries — a delicious reminder that the kitchen at Saddle Peak is a bastion of fine meat cooking.
There’s an oversized Snake River Farms wagyu beef burger on a brioche, with bleu cheese, a fried egg and french fries on the side. Should you want to go even lunchier, the roasted Skuna Bay salmon is a finely turned hunk of fish, with a mix grill of veggies — a perfect lunch, say I.
And, since we cannot live without salads here in the Malibu Mountains (or anywhere else in SoCal), there’s a fine seared albacore model, and a first-rate Mary’s chicken Cobb. For brunch, we also need our alcoholic tinged exotica (which the moody bar in the front cranks out) — bellinis, mimosas, a properly spicy bloody Mary and even a bottomless mimosa.
For dessert, there’s banana bread pudding, cappuccino pots de crème, and a trio of house-made sorbets.
As you leave, consider the taxidermy in the main dining room, and the half timbers and the fireplace. Consider returning for some elk filet, or bison short ribs. And then, head for Malibu Creek State Park and hike out to the old “M*A*S*H” set. And be glad you live here, and not there. Like they say, that’s a nice place to visit — but this is a grand place to live.
Granville
12345 Ventura Blvd., Studio City; 818-506-7050, www.granvillecafe.com
Granville is a restaurant that proclaims itself to be “Natural. Organic. Housemade.” With “all of the comfort, and none of the guilt.” It’s “an experiment in humanity.” With a philosophy that goes like this: “We believe that if we foster a culture of love and integrity, that success and longevity will prevail.” All of which is fine and dandy. But how come it’s filled with well-dressed Valleyites, arriving in state-of-the-art rides, wobbling in on insanely high heels, wearing short tight skirts, with much décolletage on display?
Where are the Birkenstock people? The rawtarians, and breathairians, and strange grain obsessives? Has healthy eating finally crossed over into the world of the hipper-than-thou? Apparently so.
Granville is packed to the jams with folks who show up for “organic and local greens” and “Antibiotic-free and hormone-free chicken and beef.” With a guarantee that there’s “no HFCS.” That’s high fructose corn syrup, Satan’s own sweetener to those who worry about what they put in the temple of their bodies.
And yet, despite stereotypes — and goodness knows, there are plenty of them — Granville is a thriving Valley enterprise. (There are branches in Burbank and Glendale, as well as Studio City.) And, despite the many annotations on the menu — V for vegan, VG for vegetarian, SF for gluten free — reg’lar folks will find the menu perfectly accessible.
Though there are plenty of Vs and VGs on the menu, this isn’t a V or VG restaurant. Four of the five burgers are made with meat — genuine, real meat. The Big Plates include a thick-cut pork chop, skirt steak and New York steak. And that sandwich of steak, bleu cheese, caramelized onions and a horseradish and garlic aioli. And how guilt-free can a choice of “Sweet Cravings” be? (The menu notes that “stressed” is “desserts” spelled backward. Which means … something, I guess.)
There’s a Devil’s Advocate chocolate cake with cream cheese frosting. And a Lickety Split ice cream sundae thing that’s essentially a kitchen sink for dessert. The mention notes that it’s “shareable.” I guess that’s what makes it guilt-free.
BLVD Steak
13817 Ventura Blvd., Sherman Oaks; 818-334-4822, www.blvdsteak.com
BLVD Steak is every East Coaster’s image of the high life here on the Left Coast. The menu here is best described as bi-coastal Modern Steakhouse. This ain’t the beef houses of yesterday, where the meal consisted, without variation, of a green salad with a cream dressing, a hunk of cow with a baked potato, and cheesecake for dessert.
Growing up in New York, I knew the ritual well— even the $1.19 Tad’s Steakhouse in Times Square stuck to it, though the meat made shoe leather seemed tender by comparison.
But these are different days … and we have different needs, along with radically changed tastes. If I want to chew shoe leather, I’ll open a bag of beef jerky from the Buc-ee’s chain down in the Confederacy. And so, the menu begins with an assortment of new classics. There’s a fine yellowtail crudo, flavored with cara oranges, Calabrian chili and pistachios. The fish is fresh and clean tasting, a fine dish to eat with a crisp glass of Sancerre — the wine and the fish combining to become something even more than they are as separate parts.
There are Wagyu meatballs, a good opportunity to taste the complexity of Wagyu beef without investing in a steak that runs from $90 to $142. There are crab cakes and sautéed shrimp, giving the food a bit of a N’Awlins taste. The lobster skewers save you the trouble of breaking a fingernail on the lobster tail. And I loved the textbook version of steak tartare, flavored with Dijon and Worcestershire. Just like in the old days.
Speaking of Wagyu — there are three on the menu — two from Japan, one from Australia. There are also five steaks under “Classics” and four under “Dry-aged.” One of the “Classics” is indicated as “kosher” — curious in a restaurant that offers an Iberico pork chop. There are spaghetti and meatballs too, which is as unexpected as a Big Mac with fries would be. But it is good to have a choice.
As ever, it’s the side dishes that intrigue me. And they intrigue me a lot. Lobster mashed potatoes! Gnocchi with truffle flavored crab meat! Crispy broccolini! “Smashed” broccoli! This is fun food! Good food to chew on at the bar, while considering a cocktail called a Bugs Bunny. It’s made with mezcal and carrot juice. It’s a cocktail that’s good for you. Which seems as contradictory as a halter top when the temps are in the 40s.
King’s Fish House
The Commons at Calabasas, 4798 Common Way, Calabasas; 818-225-1979, www.kingsfishhouse.com
The involvement of the King family in the restaurant industry goes back nearly 80 years, to their first eatery in 1945. And though King’s Fish House in The Commons at Calabasas is several decades newer, you can feel those eons of experience; this is a family that knows how to serve, and they know their way around our fishy friends.
Indeed, the motto of King’s Fish House is, “Welcome to the house that seafood built.” For a restaurant in a mall, King’s is notably non-mallish, with a fine (and very expansive) outdoor patio that surrounds the restaurant on several sides, placed so that you’ll barely notice the presence of the parking lots.
I guess you could pretend that King’s is ocean-adjacent, though that will take a tad of imagination with the hills of West Valley around you. But within, the place is downright old school fish house, with a terrific Cajun oyster bar on one side, part of the cocktail lounge. And a fine lounge it is, too, with a wall of hot sauces to choose from as you wish, bottles of tasty Cajun Power garlic sauce on every table, allowing you to turn up the heat on the selection of nine carefully curated oysters (three Pacific, six Eastern) as much as you want.
There are Peruvian bay scallops, wild Littleneck clams, wild Mexican jumbo brown shrimp, wild San Diego rock crab, and wild Maine lobster — there’s an admirable commitment here to stay away from farmed fish, except where necessary. This is a fish house that lives up to its name.
I often find it hard to get past the first page of raw bar dishes, and small plates, both cold and hot. The wild lump crab meat cocktail is a pleasure, something that’s not a shrimp cocktail for a change.
There’s a good ahi pike, made with yellowfin tuna because, these days, you’ve got to have a poke on the menu. The baked PEI blue mussels are about as good as mussels get. The crispy calamari crackles. The crab cakes are double sized. And as a counterpoint, it’s hard to resist the grilled Castroville artichoke; I have a thing for artichokes, which is strange, feeling passion for a thistle.
If it’s old school grilled fish that is needed to satisfy — well, there’s plenty, with 16 options on the menu, including just-in-season wild Puget Sound king salmon. And if you add on the prepared dishes, there’s plenty more. I like my seafood qua seafood — which is to say, served as what it is.
XOC Tequila Grill
The Village at Westfield Topanga, 6316 N. Topanga Canyon Blvd., Woodland Hills; 818-992-7930, www.xoctequilagrill.com
There are about 50 tequilas on the list at XOC Tequila Grill, with the selection broken into blanco, reposado, anejo and reservas; if you’re living large, there’s a shot of Patron Grand Burdeos for $75. The tequila flights are an admirable bargain, a trio going for $19, along with a shot of house-made sangrita and a plate of lime wedges.
Myself, I go for the micheladas — flavored beer drinks, with your choice of brew (mostly Mexican) mixed with lime juice, with Worcestershire and Tabasco, or with sangrita and lime. It’s refreshing, it goes down easy, and it’s a deal.
Oh, and for those in need of something mixed, there’s a wide variety of margaritas, and other tequila drinks, including both an Old Fashioned made with mezcal, and a Moscow Mule made with tequila. The place is true to its name.
And that name also includes the word “grill.” Indeed, “grill” is the dominant theme here, for the menu is long and complex, almost encyclopedic in its depth. There’s an opening page that describes (in very small type) the roots of Mexican cooking in Mayan cuisine, which gave us maize, tomatoes, tomatillos, cocoa, beans, avocados, chiles and more.
We’re told XOC was a Mayan queen. And the décor of the restaurant echoes the Mayan pyramids and open-air markets. The menu says, “Dare to explore.” And so, we do. And what we come up with is a nifty platter of crispy tostaditos the size of Ritz crackers, topped with ceviche, shrimp and ahi, with guacamole on the side.
There’s a Caesar salad prepared tableside, in the style of Caesar Cardini of Tijuana. There’s a fine mole poblano from Oaxaca, a dish with deep Mayan roots, and a platter of cochinita pork from the Yucatan. There’s a whole section of ceviches — and yes, I know they come from Peru, but it’s good to have them anyway.
And along with the ceviches, there’s an unexpectedly large assortment of seafood dishes, though I’m not at all sure that either salmon or mahi mahi were known to the Mayans.
The dishes are well-crafted — even the complimentary chips are extra crunchy, and come in a brown paper bag, with a big bowl of hard-to-resist salsa. But mostly, there’s the whole package — the spacious room, the ebb and flow of the shoppers, the sports on the big screens, the lively bar scene, the over-the-top cocktails, the dishes small and large. And the servers, who have been well-trained in the fine art of making you feel cared for.
This may be a Mexican restaurant in a shopping mall — but it feels like a fine dining experience in the Zona Rosa, with Mexico City all around.
Merrill Shindler is a Los Angeles-based freelance dining critic. Email mreats@aol.com.
