The Unvegan

Recent Posts

10 Years of Unvegan
A Quick Bite at Burrito Express
Serendipity at Northern Waters Smokehaus
Twerks and Burritos at Casa Amigos

‘Sandwiches’

Beer Belly for My Fearless Belly

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There are peas in my cheese!

Two of the things I love most in this world are beer and my belly. No, I don’t have a beer belly…much, but when a gastropub in Koreatown called Beer Belly opened up, I figured I had to try it out. I was meeting a group of people, and arrived to find the place packed. And this was not a big place. Like about 8 tables and a few bar stools big, and all of them were loaded. Plus, it was first come, first served, so we got to hang around the tables like vultures surrounding a wounded gazelle. It was the tail end of happy hour, though, so I ordered a beer and hoped a table would clear out soon. Fast forward thirty minutes and we’re still waiting when a woman working the place asks if we’re waiting for a table. Uh, no, lady, we’re just standing here awkwardly for the hell of it. She then proceeded to ask us if we wanted to be on the list. This “list” was new to us, and apparently also new to her, as she told us she had just started it. Well, at least we wouldn’t have to stand awkwardly any longer.

Found at Lost Dog Cafe

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Mmm cheesy.

Out in Arlington, Virginia, a friend brought us to a restaurant called Lost Dog Cafe. Knowing quite literally nothing about the place beforehand, I was happy to see that it not only had a huge selection of beers, but also a vast selection of sandwiches and pizzas. And I do mean huge. The sandwich list had 53 options, and that doesn’t include the “Create Your Own Sandwich” section. Not only that, these were some pretty creative sandwiches and not just your simple pastrami and turkey. After a long deliberation and just a quick peak at the pizza menu, I settled upon a sandwich that I hoped would be worthy of an unvegan like myself.

Growing Up at Bottle Rock

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Bottle Rock my socks off.

Right around when I first moved to LA, essentially broke, I made a trip to Bottle Rock. Having little to no disposable income, I wrote the place off as overpriced and didn’t return until this past weekend. What I found was a restaurant and wine bar that was not only well-priced, but also delicious. Was I wrong the first time I went? Have I become jaded by the prices of LA? Did Bottle Rock simply change things up? These answers may never be known, but what is known is my experience there. Let’s start from the beginning.

Heading for Philly at South Street (CLOSED)

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Looks eerily like natto.

While LA may not have a signature food (the closest it gets is either Asian fusion or burgers), it has a hell of a lot of options for immigrants who miss the signature food of their homeland, be it Chicago Pizza or Detroit Coney Dogs. The Philly Cheese Steak is no exception, with plenty of places offering their “authentic” version. I don’t claim to be an expert on the cheese steak (only been to Philly once, during a massive blizzard), but the sandwich has always been a dear friend of mine. After all, what can go wrong when meat and cheese mix? Don’t answer that if you’re one of them Kosher people. South Street in Burbank has been bringing Philly toLA for a few years, so I thought I would see how they measure up.

Sausage-Free at Tony’s Deli

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And here, Tony makes a sandwich.

Out in the strange region of the Valley known as Toluca Lake is a decent selection of restaurants for working-class folk like myself. Filling the role of Italian Deli is a place called Tony’s, which is a tiny little sandwich shop that also happens to offer a couple easy-to-serve-at-sandwich-shops-but-not-actual-sandwich items like lasagna. Most of their sandwiches come with an array of unvegan horrors like lettuce, tomato, pickles and onions, but one did not. This was the way of the unvegan.

Breaking the Fast at Greenblatt’s

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Damn you, pickle!

After a long day of repenting and fasting, I needed a good Jewish meal to remind my body and mind what eating felt like. Since we were attending a comedy show later that night at The Laugh Factory, we decided to go to an ancient little deli next door called Greenblatt’s. And when I say ancient, I meant it’s been there since 1926. That means when my grandma was living in LA in the late ’40s, it was already old and she remembers its existence. To survive for 85 years anywhere, let a lone a big city where change is the only contant is quite impressive. I was eager to find out what kept Greenblatt’s ticking and to satiate my fully empty stomach.

Bewitched by ‘Wichcraft (CLOSED)

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Is this bewitching enough for you?

In the depths of the MGM Grand in Las Vegas, there is a multitude of fancy restaurants just waiting for the eating. But wanting to get on the road and needing a quick bite, we made our way to a sandwich shop called ‘wichcraft. I liked the nice little pun they used there, and also thought it might be a Tom Colicchio restaurant because of the “craft” used in the name (I later confirmed this, but I must confess I didn’t know who Tom Colicchio was until a few minutes before settling on ‘wichcraft).

Missing Meat at The Parlor

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All looks well on the surface.

As a Michigan football fan, it is often difficult to pull myself out of bed and get to a bar for those awesome 9 am games (12 pm for those in Eastern Time). Thus, if I am going to a bar and not watching the game in the comfort of my abode, food is key. Now, I am a big fan of bar food, but it is the rare bar that has delicious breakfast. This week, the bar of choice was The Parlor on Melrose and my number one hope was that Michigan would destroy San Diego State and my number two hope was for some delicious breakfast. I can tell you now that I got at least one of those (spoiler alert: Michigan was a victor).

Hop to, Choppe Choppe (CLOSED)

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Apples make the world go round.

Despite the insane amount of times I have eaten in downtown Culver City, a few restaurants have still managed to elude me. And I do mean a few. Choppe Choppe is one of these restaurants. Now I can proudly say that I have, in fact, eaten their food, but I can still say that the restaurant has eluded me. Oh, the twists and turns of life when your girlfriend picks up food for you. Now, I may not know the full extent of the menu, so I can’t comment on options, but she sure does know me and picked me out something to fit perfectly into my unvegan diet.

Feeling French with Monsieur Marcel

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An extreme grilled cheese.

Situated somewhere in the middle of 3rd Street Promenade in Santa Monica is a place called Monsieur Marcel. It’s easy to miss if you aren’t looking, and in the countless times I have been there I had never seen it myself, at least until I was looking out specifically for it. Based on the name, you would expect Monsieur Marcel to be French, and you would be right. The menu is populated with unpronounceable dishes, but fortunately they also come with English descriptions.