Bun Boy Eats LA
BUN BOY EATS LA - Archives for 2009 July


  • July 18, 2009 6:27 pm

Seriously, you need to check out the pictures on this website before you continue to read:


Are you back? What do you think?? Pretty over the top, eh? A bit Vegas?

Personally, I think it’s Miami meets Versailles. Our “naturally” tanned host was even wearing a white sports jacket and white slacks. Quite “Miami Vice”.

If you were too lazy to go to the website as I clearly instructed, here’s a pic from the website:

That being said, the restaurant is quite visually stunning. You’ll be staring at the decor and wondering if anyone famous is sitting near you, the entire time.

Now, onto the food. Hmm, it would have been nice to get some in a decent amount of time. We were waiting about 45 minutes from our arrival, it was annoying.

I called the polite waitress over and she apologized profusely. I then added, to be a jerk, that we had been waiting an hour, blah, blah. Not missing a beat, she said “Actually it was 30 minutes, but I do apologize.”

Ok, now i felt like a real asshole. I, being the constant people pleaser, said I was sorry for exaggerating the next time she passed by, after it had eaten me up inside for too long. She said “No worries, I do it all the time!”

So, my friend, the Bread Guy, and I both orderd the flatbread pizzas. Now, you tell me you have a flatbread pizza and I’m ordering it. No question. Don’t test me.

The pizzas were quite pretty and ENORMOUS (I ordered the Grilled vegetable – peppers, zucchini, asparagus, eggplant, mushrooms, brocollini, all my favorites – oh, except the ghastly mushrooms. I threw them on the floor and ground my feet on them, in protest of my long wait.)

I was too embarrased to take a picture of the meal, but for your viewing pleasure I stole a picture online of what they look like. This was a Proscuitto and other stuff pizza. Yes, I’m sure that’s what it says on the menu.

Plus, I was scared the camera’s flash bouncing against all the white, silver and glass would create a sort of exploding star effect. Or perhaps people would have imagined it was the second coming.

My issue with pizza is this: I like it spicy. If it doesn’t come that way, I must pour hot sauce or chili flakes on it. This is not optional. If I don’t have these at my disposal, I immediately come to the conclusion that the pizza is bland, as in this case.

It wasn’t at all though! My taste buds have just been dulled by years of chili abuse. I do go to meetings for my addiction however, so just back off!

9601 Brighton Way
Beverly Hills, CA 90210-5109
(310) 859-7600
See above


  • July 17, 2009 2:47 pm

This place reminds me of somewhere I used to go to in Seattle. A multi-use, ultra casual large coffee shop, music venue, ecetera. Even equiped with two pseudo-homeless men at the tables in the corner, drinking their donated coffees.

I met Tenille and Billy Goat Gruff here since they were both in the area. Tenille had to eat and run since she had a nude photo shoot to organize shortly after. She had informed her subject, “You don’t have to be completely nude, you can wear sheer undergarments” to which the subject (OK, I’ll spill. Her subject was her partner in crime, Captain) responded in true Captain fashion “I’ll be nude.”

Abbot’s Habit is right next to Abbot’s Pizza. You walk in, you place your order (sandwiches, salads, enormous pieces of quiche) and find a table to sit til your name’s called. Easy peasy.

I ordered the very pretty looking Southwest Vegetarian sandwich on Rosemary bread. Good on paper. The only issue was, I began to covet thy neighbor’s meat sandwiches!! I caught myself staring at BGG’s meat festival more often than I would have liked. Hmm…that sounds dirty.

As the sandwich was all right but a bit bland, I had to think fast. I looked around for any emergency condiments. Hmm..salt and bloody pepper. That’s it, fool?? No little packets of French’s??

Tabasco! What? Well…might as well.

So I completely doused the innards, the guts of the sandwich if you will, with the vinegary liquid. Each bite thereafter caused my mouth to catch fire, just a bit. The homeless man coming over to us to snatch the bathroom key (and giving us shit for bogarting it), distracted me slightly from my 4 alarm fire.

To cool the tongue off, we went to N’ice Cream across the street for some refreshing Gelato. BGG proceeded to unsubtly “eye-bang” the clerk, inappropriately (I’m guessing this was her after-school job.)

He would even lean over, bypassing my conversation, to luridly watch her every move. I hurriedly finished my salted caramel gelato (good shit) and we headed our separate ways to avoid the authorities being called.

1401 Abbot Kinney Blvd
Venice, CA 90291
310) 399-1171


  • July 16, 2009 4:47 am

I flew to San Fran on Tuesday morning for a meeting with my client, The Scientist, in the Embarcardero district, had a great lunch at The Slanted Door, a little more meeting and then back to LA that very evening.

Siegfried had mentioned that she liked the Slanted Door when I pressured her for restaurant ideas. My boss thinks I’m in SF solely for work? Ha! I’m here for a great restaurant for the ‘ole blog and don’t let anyone tell you different!

On the flight up, our flight attendant was a fiesty, elderly, spitfire who clearly part-timed as a comedian. In the 1930’s.

I jotted down some of her doozy’s:

“Don’t worry folks, we don’t anticpate anything happening on this flight. If we thought something bad was going to happen, we wouldn’t have shown up for work today!”

“There’s no tampering with lavatory smoke detectors. If I catcha smokin’, I’LL be smokin’!”

“Please be careful when opening luggage compartments after we land. Like the bumper sticker says, Shift Happens!”

The Slanted Door (which I keep wanting to call Slanted Eye – a bit un-PC) is located in the ferry building on the waterfront, a place that has a lot of great places that I was drooling over. San Fran really has every other city beat in the restaurant department, it’s a shame.

The folks that work with my client took me to lunch (conveniently located across the street from their offices) and we ordered a bunch of stuff. Everything was delish. Since this is not an LA joint, I won’t bother letting you know what I ordered. If you end up going to SF, just ask me then if you still care.

As I depart SF, I attempt to remember how I worked the BART (subway) ticket kiosk. It’s a bit complicated. So much so, that when I was leaving town, I was asked by some woman and also the man waiting after her, how to work the damn thing!

As I wait for my flight to begin boarding, I witness an old woman walk by who’s breasts are so unusually large, I simply must take a second glance. After she spots me doing so, she irritably closes up her tiny jacket which doesn’t begin to fully cover the enormity of her bossom.

On the shuttle ride home, a kid proceeded to rip out one of his front teeth, casually place it in his mother’s hand and swivel around to give me a proud pumpkin grin. His mother then oddly asked if he had yacked on the tooth! Huh?

Boy, this kid’s laugh is annoying…and now they won’t stop talking about the damn tooth fairy…get me off this shuttle!

1 Ferry Building
San Francisco, CA 94111
(415) 861-8032

Venice Canals – Venice Boardwalk

  • July 15, 2009 4:21 am

When I was growing up, my mother would purchase elaborately painted mailboxes from our local farmer’s market. And every time she put these up, some “punk” would drive by and smash it to bits with a baseball bat.

This story came to mind while I was walking through the Venice canals. I had not seen them before and as I was housesitting within walking distance, I felt it was about time.

In case you did not know, Mr. Abbot Kinney designed the once 16 miles of canals (modeled after those of Venice, Italy) in 1904. When the automobile became commonplace, many of the canals converted to streets and now the remaining canals have garnered enormous real estate values for the homes lucky enough to be located next to them.

This place is quite surreal. Like walking through some psychadelic water park. An idyllic, eclectic, wealthy neighborhood where the paved streets are replaced with waterways. Thankfully, the 3 hits of acid I had placed lovingly on my tongue had just kicked in.

What reminded me of that childhood mailbox story is that all the houses are surrounded by fences no taller than 3 or 4 feet! I don’t know if that’s to show off how gorgeous some of these homes are or some weird city regulation.

You can literally reach over the tiny rampart and take something or break something. I could walk by the $1000 BBQ and snatch a citronella candle or some daughters bracelet that she had taken off before going into the hot tub.

In fact, I noticed this about many of the affluent homes of Venice. There isn’t much in the way of security or separation of ones home from a passersby. No big ass lawn with a 20 foot tall electric gold-plated fence. No decent barricades to keep the riff raff from ruining or stealing something. There’s an unusually trusting vibe I get from much of this neighborhood. At least what I’ve walked through so far.

After my canal perusal, I walked up to the Venice boardwalk, imagining myself taking a relaxing stroll along the beach. Um..no.

It was an onslaught of chaos, as one would expect from Venice Beach at night. Thousands of people coming at me, many of them teenagers. Get me outta here. Ooh! Is that an empanada stand?

As I sped up my walk, I pass by random reggae blaring from the tinny, blown out speakers of some bong shop to the arabic techno coming from a falafal joint to the infamous roller skating guitar player whom I’ve already seen twice today on two separate outings (is he homeless?).

The tourists had all but disappeared. It was just me and them.

I did not purchase a bong or a falafal, instead I hurried home to read a Harry Potter book. How edgy is that??


  • July 14, 2009 3:08 am

Aww…life in Venice Beach….it’s quite nice.

Except that damn dog next door won’t stop yipping.

Thelma and Louise met me Sunday morning for a bike ride from Venice to Santa Monica. It was a nice relaxing workout on a perfect sunny day.

It started out a bit rocky, however, when Thelma ran her bike into the car in front of her. I don’t think she appreciated it when I burst out laughing. Sorry Thelma.

During the ride, I muttered several nasty remarks at the tourists who were in my way, walking leisurely on the “bikes only” path. To teach them a lesson, I would swoosh very close to them as I passed, nearly knocking off their imposter designer sunglasses which were most likely purchased minutes ago.

After surviving the bike ride, we headed back to the apt. to freshen up before lunch. By freshen up, I mean Thelma washed out her smelly armpits and dried them on my only clean towel. Thanks.

We were a bit rough looking from our ride. Louise had dirt all over her white t-shirt. So, all dolled up, we walked to Hal’s Bar and Grill, making sure I walked in first as to prevent the hostess from thinking we were either looking for a handout or were applying for the available dishwasher job.

Luckily Venice is super casual, so even going to the nicer restaurants like Hal’s, you can definitely dress down. Even if “down” means wearing spandex shorts. Oh Thelma…

I ordered the Turkey sandwich only because I was OVERJOYED to see it contained real turkey breast meat and not sodium-filled pressed meat product. Yeah!

The fries were better than the sandwich. They were definitely made there. I think. Ok, I’m not sure at all, but they were good. The sandwich was good too, but the issue with any turkey meal, is that, as turkey is a drier meat, I usually require…let’s say…a shitload of gravy poured on top to balance things out.

I instead dipped the sammie in my ketchup. Not ideal. What would have been nice is if I would have ordered a side of their basil mayo to dip it in. There was a small amount on the sandwich. Which would have been ample for most folks.

Ok, I’m bored of this review now. Just got back from Bay Cities Deli with some friends. Hal’s is paling in comparison. Time for a food coma….

VENICE, CA 90292


  • July 13, 2009 1:48 pm

Apparently, their pizza is cold and the service is horrible.

According to some online reviews.

Luckily, I didn’t deal with the cashier and the cold pizza ended up being a good thing, in this case!

So, I begin house sitting in Venice Beach on Saturday and the woman’s pad is in the best location. Blocks from both the beach and Abbot Kinney, where all the trendy beach bums hang.

I have little insight on beach life, talk to me in a few weeks when I’ve become an expert. When my beard has grown out, sand begins to clog the bathtub and my flip flops have surgically attached themselves to my feet.

When I arrived last night to get the grand tour, I saw my friend Thelma there (of “Thelma and Louise” with the bunion encrusted foot), as the two are writing parnters, and we all began walking down the little alley to Abbot Kinney for a slice of Salad Pizza.

Or was it Pizza Salad?

Either way, it was Pizzalicious! It was very crispy, medium thickness, with an everything-bagel crust topped with a little basic salad as a topping. $5 a slice.

Still under the $10 dollar budget! (which is getting boring)

Sure, it was cold. But it worked. If you don’t like it, just shut up about it.

I mean it, shut up!

Oh, they have this spicy sauce to dip your pizza bones into. Delovely!


  • July 11, 2009 2:46 pm

Wild Friday Night Alert!

A hike and dinner. I almost blew a gasket!

I met my friend Babe Ruth in Burbank for a hike at Stough Canyon. It was a 2 hour brisk, but nice, slow incline up the typical LA landscape (pretty dead hills).

We saw several deer who were not frightened of us, which was refreshing. That is, until the cocking of my rifle!

The views on the way were not much but once we reached the top (well, we were feeling a bit lazy. Let’s say…not the top but…top-ish) the view was fantastic!! I think I recognize this view from commericals or movies or something. Seeing the hills of Griffith Park stuck right in the middle of a city, it looked like someone carved out a chunk of a Hawaiian island and placed it right smack in the middle of Anytown, USA. It was breathtaking.

Sorry for the actual normal sized paragraph! I’m sure many of you have already skipped over it! 🙂

So, after NOT showering, we headed to Glendale to the cute, bright and cheery Mamitas Peruvian Restaurant (descriptions stolen directly from a website – it’s too early to come up with my own adjectives)

Since it was almost closing time and they probably wanted us to get the hell out of there, we were seated and fed almost instantaneously. Much to our delight!

We ordered a soup to start. I now call it the Chicken Parts Soup. Only because Babe Ruth responded that the soup contained chicken hearts to my “Why are there small bits of red pork in here?” quandry.

It was actually very tasty, like a Thai Mexican soup with tiny noodles and a creamy red broth. (and chicken parts)

For an entree I ordered the…um….uh….let me look it up.

Ok, no menu online. It was the Pollo something something Mamitas. It was an extremely flattened chicken breast in a great sauce with sauteed onions and pepper with rice and mashed potatoes.

I say WAS because I (again) forgot my phone and took a picture of the leftovers instead! AKA: my breakfast this morning. I, of course, mashed everything together first, creating a sort of Mexican fried rice. SOOO GOOOD!!!

Peruvian food is not my favorite but it’s solid. Peruvian food can be boiled down to a meat and potatoes cuisine.

What disappointed me was no hot sauce to be found except this strange green creamy stuff which I did squirt on everything (including my shirt).

Oh, and I had some Yucca!

Or, as my extremely picky father would say: “Gross…Yucka is right!”

714 S Brand Blvd
Glendale, CA 91204
(818) 243-5121


  • July 10, 2009 1:01 am

We were greeted to Manpuku by the sight of a blazing fire in the hills near the Getty center and a fresh, dead rat lying on the sidewalk. Nice.

A terrific start to my first Japanese BBQ experience.

Manpuku is located on Sawtelle near Olympic, in a fantastic enclave of affordable Asian restaurants and more importantly…a Yogurtland!

I was secretly eager to get the meal over with so we could get on over to Yogurtland. We each ordered a different red meat which would come raw and we would cook it ourselves over the little grill in the center of the table. Some scant veggies were included to grill.

Very similar to Korean BBQ, which I love. And just as tasty. However, not as many sides come with the meat. In fact, you just get a Barbie-sized portion of kimchi. Luckily the lunch special includes rice and miso soup so we were all surprisingly full afterwards.

Michael Jackson was playing non stop while we dined, much to Nancy’s delight.

Quite full and with no business walking over and pouring a bunch of yogurt on top of everything, we walked over and poured a bunch of yogurt on top of everything.

Yeah for us! I think MJ would have approved.

2125 Sawtelle Blvd
Los Angeles, CA 90025
(310) 473-0580


  • July 9, 2009 5:20 am



OK, so Saturday, the actual 4th of July.

We know we’re bbq’ing that evening so some of us decide to check out this Salton Sea which apparently is next door to us.

We pile 6 of us into a clown car and make our way to the Smelly Sea. Oh boy, does it stink there. At first I think, it’s all the salt residing in California’s largest lake, causing the smell. Oh was I wrong!

Here’s the lake. So picturesque. Wait…what’s that dotting the shore…rocks maybe….


Here’s what actually lay along the shore. No need to buy meat to BBQ!

Fresh, delicious, eyeless fish jerkey! Get it while it’s steaming.

And God was it, so we escaped into the “Visitor’s Center” for some coolling off and some perusing of useless crap with the name “Salton Sea” on it.

The clerk (or whatever the fat, cranky asshole behind the counter’s title was) rubbed us the wrong way, so we skedaddled it out of there, piling back in the hot as hades car which decided to just barely breathe scant amounts of air conditioning onto our melting faces.

“Tenille, are you feeling the AC back there?” someone asked. To which she replied “Air is not something I am currently aware of.”

We hang out at the pool, swatting flies for the remainder of the day. I take two friends on a little photo shoot at our regulation size boxing ring.

So another night of debauchery ends and we decide to finally check out good ole Palm Springs before going home. We have brunch at this place Azul (perhaps the 3rd gayest restaurant currently on Earth.) I split a club wrap with I.H.

It was ok. I don’t love lunch meat and especially not hot lunch meat. You will NEVER find me at an Arby’s!

I don’t know why it’s so difficult to make sandwiches and wraps with real sliced meats as apposed to the chef merely peeling layers off a taupe-colored mound of miscellaneous animal flesh purchased at Costco!

369 N Palm Canyon Dr
Palm Springs, CA 92262-5601
(760) 325-5533


  • July 9, 2009 4:40 am

So day two in the greater Palm Springs area at our fabulous compound. The night before held many adventures, however, for a certain member of our group, memories were blurry.

She had been running around the pool nude and beyond wasted, making microwave quesadillas in an almost obscene and dangerous fashion and spitting Cheese-It’s on the kitchen floor.

Her boyfriend was far from mortified and barely payed any attention.

We spent friday afternoon frolicking in the pool to escape the 110 degree heat, playing pool volleyball, drinking random frozen drinks, throwing frisbee, using the putting green, and for the drunk gal from the night before; peeing on a rock in plain view of everyone.

For dinner that night, we ventured into the big city, La Quinta. Sid, from “Sid and Nancy”, had recomended this place to us and, as it was a sports bar, it seemed right up everyone’s alley.

I ordered the French Dip. It was solid. Unlike my stool, later that evening.

We played a little Dave & Buster’s-esque basketball. I actually wasn’t half bad! We also played some random video trivia game, I won’t go into details.

Some poor white trash guy left us the rest of his birthday ice cream cake. We said our obligatory “Happy Birthday” and scarfed it down in seconds. Now, THAT was good.

Driving back to the house, we payed homage to Michael Jackson’s passing by listening to “Dirty Diana” on repeat.

“I am the stuff that you want, I’ve got the thing that you need…”

78-483 Highway 111
La Quinta, CA 92253