Bun Boy Eats LA
BUN BOY EATS LA - Archives for 2012 February


  • February 28, 2012 10:49 pm

Recipe inspired by Jebbediah's Mom!

When Jebbediah described this delicious monstrocity that his mom used to make, I knew I had to make an attempt.

Albeit, slightly altered.

Mix up chicken, celery, onions with cream of mushroom soup. Then put it between two slices of Wonder bread. Then dip the whole thing in egg, roll in potato chips and bake!

It kind of reminded me of those chicken bakes they sell hot at the Costco “food court”.

That place cracks me up.

While I love me some $1.50 hot dog and soda combo, I’m not sure why I find waiting 30 minutes in line is really worth my time.

A trip to Coscto at the wrong time of day (sun up to sun down, generally) can take years off of one’s life. One must treat oneself to inexpensive nitrites.

That and a buffet of samples.

Samples of shit we normally would have zero interest in.

“They’ve got free bits of power bars people, spread the word!!”

When we step through the doors, we are transformed into homeless zombies scavenging for free brain segments in nice white portion cups.

Rabid, foaming dogs, fighting over a chicken carcass.

I raced up, knocking a few grandma’s on their asses just to get a small hunk of a plain wheat bagel!

So disappointed, yet I ravenously gobbled it down as if it were my daily ration.

That’s all, woman?? Ain’t got no peanut butter you can slather on it? I can see the gallon tub of Jiffy just off in the distance.

All ready for a Morman’s bomb shelter.

Seriously, as a child I recall seeing a huge tub of apple pie filling in my Morman friend’s basement. I want to be part of THAT apocalypse!!

Free chewable vitamins? People will wrestle you to the ground for that first one.

The lady in the white coat is just blankly staring at us, like she’s feeding the birds.

Except we react less like birds and more like sharks.

Ripping her limbs from her as she attempts to portion out enough samples for all of us.

She’s never fast enough and she always runs out.

The meat samples, I get. There’s some substance there. Hot, beefy.

Who knew a simple shopping trip could turn into the Hunger Games??

What fascinates me is the expedience in which man can turn into beast over a free wedge of orange just blows me mind and steals me pot of gold!

As does the fact that I’m right there with ’em.

FYI, I’ve got an extra Chicken Bake in the freezer if anyone wants one?


  • February 26, 2012 11:25 pm

The Mr. Fred - Ham and Comte Cheese

The first problem with the Artisan Cheese Gallery is there wasn’t much actual cheese going on with the sandwiches I chose.

If I’m going to be going all the way to the valley, I want to be heavily compensated (with aged dairy products)!

The second problem is the sandwiches were on the dry side. This may be all right for the sandwich purest, but that ain’t me.

I like sauces and spreads and mayo (oh my) or perhaps even more than a half teaspoon of the mustard I was promised.

With all the “make it your way” sandwich spots around, I guess I’ve just gotten spoiled.

It’s a cute place and all but probably more suited for a night spent with a cheese platter and a few glasses of wine.


Mouth = Desert.

I need a glass of water.

12023 Ventura Blvd
Studio City, CA 91604
(818) 505-0207

Duck Confit with Fig Jam and Le Marechal Cheese

Turkey with French Brie and Sliced Apple


  • February 23, 2012 7:49 pm

The cheese may appear to be hiding. But it's in there, people. An army of it!

Lasanga night was a such a blast!

I haven’t had that much fun in a while.

This is also my 420th blog entry, folks!

History has been made. So spark up and read on.

My goal for 2012 was to make a list of all the everyday, traditional meals that I’ve never made before…

…And then make them all.

So, here we go again!

Taco Belly (named after her favorite fast food) and I had a whirlwind night of drinking wine, making homemade Caesar salad dressing (I will give $100 to the first person who can honestly spell Caesar right on the first try!!!) watching Top Chef and the world’s best new show, Revenge, participating in a zany Home and Garden photo shoot and MAKING THE WORLD’S BEST LASAGNA.

Yeah, I know. Bold claim.

Let me preface this with this: we didn’t mess around with any spinach or vegetable bullshit.

This is meat, cheese, noodles.


Pretty hard to screw up.

I made the sauce the night before. You HAVE to do this. No other way around making a good sauce. This is the one food that’s always better the next day.

Mariah Carey summed it up best with her first hit single, “Sauce Takes Time”. Actually, I believe it may have been “Love” but any dummy knows she was referring to the perfect sauce. Stop arguing with me!

My bolognese (with a combo of Italian sausage and beef) simmered and cooked down and became a blood red pool of deliciousness over the course of about five hours.

I also tried making croutons out of fresh bread, thinking that having the loaf sit out for a few hours meant it was stale.

Don’t make my mistake. It’s a pointless endeavor, yielding oddly chewy chunks of disappointment.

Cut to the Next Day:

We soaked the lasagna noodles in hot water for about 30 minutes while we made our simple and delicious Caesar dressing. Anchovy paste really did the trick. As did the worstershirserwearweawerasdfasdfasd sauce.

I refuse to learn how to spell that correctly, I outright refuse.

I cut up a bunch of fresh parsley (oops, I lied. There’s your vegetable, b*tches) and mixed it with some ricotto cheese and an egg and just layered the noodles, meat sauce, ricotto and some shredded parmesan and sliced, fresh water mozarella.

Basically repeat this process until the dish is so jam packed with amazingness that you just can’t take it anymore.

Repeat until the final layer touches the ceiling.

Like a lost chapter from a Shel Silverstein book.

We both commented that there wasn’t a single change we would have made to this piping hot perfection.

Except maybe waiting a touch longer to eat it.

Taco Belly has a really beautiful apartment but the only shots that turned out well were of a few odd furnishings, including her weird multi-face sculpture thingy.

The Behemoth emerges from it's recalescent chambers...

Too many mouths to feed...

The girl takes shoe organizing one step further...


  • February 21, 2012 9:04 pm

Even as you finish the fabulous dessert, the St. Regis doesn't let you forget that all this must have set someone back quite a bit...

Last year I did something huge. Something I’ll never forget.

I married one of my best friends.

At first I thought they were joking when Bonnie and Clyde asked me to officiate at their wedding.

How would I succeed at NOT making this into a colossal joke?

Were they for real?

They were. For proof, watch the music video at the bottom of the page.

First step was to get ordained.

Online, of course.

Anyone can do it, it only takes minutes and it’s free!

Reverend Bun Boy at your service. FYI, I don’t come cheap.

For months we rehearsed what I would say. Every word was memorized.

Bonnie was a tyrant.

We’d meet at their place over wine, dinner or just a sunday morning 30 minute quickee.

Eventually, the big day was upon us.

Even though I had every word committed to memory (spent every waking moment at the hotel muttering under my breath as all my friends hung out by the pool) I still was terrified that I would mess up such an important day for two dear friends.

The St. Regis. Are you kidding me?? This ain’t no backyard, bud light wedding. This is legit. Crap. This is Fancy Town.

Am I really going to do this??

Game time.

The music’s playing, guests are being seated, I’m having a half dozen mini heart attacks.

I see all my friends sit down, which helps ease my mind.

Until the music stops.

Before I know it, the entire wedding party has waltzed their happy asses down the aisle and it’s time for me to shine.

I start my spiel and panic as I realize everyone’s still standing and I’ve got to tell them to sit down somehow.

I continue speaking, looking nervously around while guests shift uncomfortably and then stop.

“Sorry, you guys can sit down now”.

It gets a laugh. Thank GOD!

Bonnie, Clyde and I were all fitted with two sets of microphones. One for the videographer (see the awesome wedding music video at the bottom) and one so the audience could hear.

Unfortunately, a mishap occured (my absymal memory prevents me from recalling exactly what) and the cherished guests could hear me all right (don’t say anything dumb or obscene, Bun Boy!) but only silence when the bride and groom began their vows.


What to do? What to do?

I tried to lean in super close to catch their words on my microphone. I realized how awkward this looked as I was basically standing an inch away from them! Like a really obtrusive stalker.

Just pretend you don’t see me, folks!

During the entire ceremony I see the terror in Bonnie and Clyde’s eyes. We are all so petrified of messing up such a perfect moment, on such a perfect day.

Before we knew it, the “I Do’s” were said and they were walking down the aisle.

I whipped out my Blackberry and posted the picture on Facebook.

I kind of wish I would have waited a bit longer.

Like until the ceremony was over or something.

“Where’d they find this hack preacher?” I suddenly grew paranoid guests were asking themselves.

Phew! It was all over. I washed down the melancholy and bittersweetness with loads of champagne.

People said I did really great which was a welcomed relief that I have such good liars as friends.

Later on in the night, I did something unthinkable. Horrific. A bride’s worst nightmare.



Thank god it was made of material where it brushed right off. Someone had stain guarded it!

All in all, it was a fairy tale wedding. Everything went perfectly. It was a beautiful day neither of us will ever forget and I’m so proud that Bonnie and Clyde, the nauseatingly perfect couple, deemed me worthy of pulling this off.

Love you guys!!

All three of us, hearts in our throats! Even my tie was trying to make a getaway!

In order of height

The Gang's all here! Oh, except the Bride. Slippery little devil!

Some green crap and a delicious fried goat cheese nugget

Delicious steak and a dead man's finger...

Four Drunk Sluts, I mean Four Happy Friends

Vision blurred as the night progressed...

Dancing into happily ever after...


Greg and Ash’s Wedding – Music Video


  • February 20, 2012 10:22 am

Although the centerpiece was lovely, a stem of bacon interspersed would have been appropriate.

Every once in a while, you have a meal that’s EXACTLY what you want, when you want it. That satisfies a craving you didn’t even know you had.

Its nice to be reminded every once in a while of one’s need for bacon.

MP Post took far too long to get to (Manhattan Beach) but was worth every long distance calorie.

The highlight had to be the eggs benedict on cheddar bacon biscuit but every item, even the ginger mojito, was spot on.

Multiple orgasms of flavor.

Shocking surges to the senses.

Am I exaggerating? Of course! But at the very least, this place was damn good and had a really cool ceiling fan that I couldn’t stop staring at on occasion.

Any place that provides ample air flow, cooling the fiery furnace that is my cursed body is A-OK in my book.

1142 Manhattan Ave
Manhattan Beach, CA 90266
(310) 545-5405

MO-PHO-JITO, mojito w/ starr, kaffir lime, mint, ginger, coriander honey


CHIMICHANGA, scrambled egg, chorizo spiced pork, pepperjack, yam, Jimmy's moms salsa verde

BENIDICT, bacon cheddar biscuit, arugula, la quercia procuitto, hollandaise

Spiced Apple Hand Pies with Salted Caramel Sauce


  • February 16, 2012 8:41 pm

Spam, Cheese and Jalapeno Taquitos

“All you order is Spicy Tuna!” Chesty Morgan scolds me.

Everyone knows I’m NOT the one to go to sushi with.

Adventurous with crustaceans, I am not.

Weird rolls topped with onion rings, spicy sauces and jalapenos? Sign me up!

Welcome to the heart of Japan, folks. That’s where you’ll find me.

After visiting Oiwake, I decide to check out the Yelp reviews.

Ordering raw fish here is NOT advisable, apparently.

As we constantly saw people pass by holding trays stuffed to the gills with buffet fare, we knew ordering off the menu was a mistake.

Upon our exit, however, when our fears were alleviated. The buffet looked revolting.

The “sushi” available were pathetic excuses for California rolls, mostly comprised of rice. Looking like little white mice, stuffed and on display by the taxidermy loving owner.

They were also placed too close to the hot items. Most likely placing the sad sushi mice at danger zone temperatures. Danger Zone, like the ubiquitous Kenny Loggins anthem.

As average as our meals were, by skipping the buffet, we most likely avoided some severe cramping and nausea.

Speaking of Kenny Loggins…

Tempura Spicy Tuna

Spicy Tuna strapped in like a psych patient


  • February 14, 2012 8:17 pm

Causa Spicy Yellowtail (Sushi on Potato Cake)

Happy Valentine’s Day folks!

In all the rush of eating my face off and then joining Weight Watchers (more on that later), I totally forgot to write the Picca blog!

Picca was so last week (literally, it was). Do you know how much I’ve forgotten in that time? That’s what I get for procrastinating!

What fun food!? That cod on a skewer was MELT IN YOUR MOUTH! Wait, I mean my mouth! Give it back!

I especially want more of the avocado cocktail!! The combo of the rum, avocado and lime was really impressive. Impressive I only drank one!

All right people, go out and love the one you’re with or just try to get through this blasted holiday without sinking too far into a deep fried depression.

9575 W Pico Blvd
Los Angeles, CA 90035
(310) 277-0133

The Avocado Project: Rum, Avocado, Lime, Agave Nectar, Ascorbic Acid

Papa Rellena: Stuffed potato, Slow cooked Beef, Boiled Egg, Rocoto Walnut Aioli

Anticucho Black Cod

Seared Tuna Ceviche

Seco De Pato: Dug Leg Confit with Black Beer Sauce and Cilantro Rice

Vanilla Bean Pisco Flan


  • February 12, 2012 7:55 pm

These come from the land of No Nutritional Value. I have a summer home there.

Apparently, this recipe isn’t a very well guarded secret. If you google it, you’ll find it.

Like a hypochondriac looking up symptoms of disease.

Speaking of which, arteries will be clogged after consuming these. Might want to look up “high blood pressure” or “Paula Deen” for a few cautionary tales.

I pretty much stuck with the original recipe but made a few with some crumbled bacon.

My cholesterol was already going to hell. Why not grease the path and slide down quicker?

OK NOW. Here’s another tale from childhood.

When I was a kid, I was in a “band” with my sister.

We were called Déjà Vu.

We performed nightly in the basement.

To a sold out crowd of discarded antiques, old workout equipment, scuttling mice and that demon that lives in the corner behind the freezer where mom kept all the bread.

“Bryan, go in the basement and get some more bread!” my mother would call out, sending chills down my spine.

She must have truly hated me.

I was like 10 or 11 when mom bought me my first Casio keyboard.

I was obsessed. I played it constantly.

I would sometimes lay next to it (like an episode of My Strange Addiction where the woman sleeps next to her running hair dryer) and play the demo song, Billy Joel’s “Just The Way You Are” OVER AND OVER.

My goal was to learn it myself from memory.

I would teach myself songs from listening to them repeatedly.

Holding my tape recorder up to the television speaker and recording commercials or songs from MTV before my parents had the cable company turn that station into snow.

“You’re not watching that crap!”

Similar to what the preacher in “Footloose” would have done next if he had been allowed to continue on his diabolical path.

My parents had a creepy old organ in our living room growing up (actually, it’s still there) and I would play that thing as well. Usually the theme to “Candyman” to scare my sister.

When I decided to create my own songs, I knew I had to enlist my sister for backup vocals.

I would write all the melodies, all the lyrics and play all the instruments except the random kitchen utensil I would force sis to bang on something with.

I would spend days and weeks perfecting these horrible songs.

I would surround myself with tape recorders in a forgotten corner of the basement. It was quite professional. I’m sure Quincy Jones started this way.

One tape recorder documenting the entire affair, one would be playing some instrumental tune (often Enya) and then I’d be playing my drums (usually a metal bar from a used Bowflex workout machine being pounded on a small stack of paper) while belting out our song.

Every year, Déjà vu would release a Christmas album. I’d spend hours on the cover art.

Desicrating old photo albums, stealing prized family memories and cutting them in funny shapes.

Christmas songs were always the most fun to record. My sister, who would normally misbehave or mess up the lyrics during the recording of all the other albums, would actually put forth some effort for my rendition of Jingle Bells, as there was no memorization involved.

Unless I had decided to make a funky version, watch out world. Christmas revolutionized.

Eventually, Déjà vu disbanded (upon realization that these songs were blackmail material) and the tapes were discarded in some long forgotten box.

About 10 years ago, I unearthed them and played one for my friend while I was driving.

I almost had to pull over I was so utterly embarrassed, tears coming to my eyes.

My music had almost caused an accident, for Pete’s sake.

This was the cheesiest thing ever produced and I’m almost positive I just heard a few Angels cry out in agony.

What if anyone got their hands on these tapes? There’s no way I’d be able to afford an assassin for the unfortunate victim and I really don’t have the stomach for offing myself.


  • February 10, 2012 9:47 am

1/2 Lard, 1/2 Peanut Oil, touch of bacon grease

Today’s meal is in honor of celebrity chef, Paula Deen and her new found friend, Diabetes.

Never in my life have I made such a high fat, high maintenance meal.

Two days dedicated, in some fashion, to frying some chicken.

It all started at LA’s trendy new organic butchers, Lindy and Grundy.

If you’ve been dying to spend $26 on ONE MEASLY 3 POUND CHICKEN, Lindy and Grundy are the tatted up, Bettie Page lookalikes for you!

Luckily, I needed their services to cut up the chicken into proper frying pieces, so I rationalized that this service normally costs about $20.

I also spent an additional $7 bucks for their lard. It had better be free range, dammit.

I took these high class chicken chunks home and soaked them overnight in a buttermilk, garlic and hot sauce bath.

This step was really worth it, folks.

The next day, I devoted my entire evening to not screwing up this chicken.

I think we ate around 10:30 pm or something, geez! The chicken turned out perfectly, although I might season the flour a bit more next time.

I roasted a head of garlic in the oven for about 40 minutes to squeeze into the mashed pots.

I took the time to push the cooked potatoes through a ricer to make them fluffy. While this did work, I’ll NEVER do it again. How f’ing annoying! Or maybe my ricer thingy is a piece of shit?

Corn sauteed in bacon grease is the only way to go. I used fresh corn off the cob so the kernals didn’t become a soggy mess.

I guess some buttery biscuits or some gravy might have gone well with this meal but didn’t want Guiness Book of World Records contacting me for most calories consumed by a human in 5 minutes (I’m a fast eater) or the police swinging by to circumvent this obvious suicide attempt.

This had better be worth it...

Freshly corn sauteed in BACON FAT. Served with side of BACON. Oh, and BUTTER.

Roasted Garlic, Cheddar and Chive Mashed Potatoes. Proof of aforementioned chive content blatantly placed atop this mound of love.

The finished product. The perfect meal. Not a green thing in sight.


  • February 7, 2012 10:35 pm

Kaya Toast (coconut jam on buttered toast, slow cooked egg, soy sauce, white pepper)

It was all about the meat last night at The Spice Table.

Even our creamed kale had a hunk of pork belly dramatically overshadowing the offensive vegetation that sat cowering in the corner of the plate.

That bacon on steroids slapped the shit out of the kale. And it liked it.

Spice Table is fun for more reasons than just watching vegetables get their ass kicked.

Featuring upscale, inventive looks at Singaporean (that sounds wrong) and Vietnamese cuisine, Spice Table offers a number of fiesty, bold items that I would actually order again, such as the delicious Beef Rendang.

Out of everything we ate, the dessert stood out the most. Kaffir lime has a very specific flavor, it can’t be duplicated. The custard had the perfect balance of creamy and sour.

Oh, and the place is a stone’s throw from Skid Row. That’s always fun too.

Especially when you’re looking for parking, gas tank on empty.

And not enough crack to go around. How embarrasing would that be?

114 S Central Ave
Los Angeles, CA 90012
(213) 620-1840

Creamed Kale, house made paneer, grilled pork belly

Lamb Belly Satay

Yellowtail (raw with scallions, sesame, chilis, fried ginger, fried shallots)

Beef Rendang (short rib curry with rice, sambal, kaffir lime, peanuts)

Kaffir Lime Custard with Lychee bits (with world's largest sprig of mint)