This post is really to fill the void while I continue to cheerfully procrastinate on the 2500 word Q2 SGV Rundown. Yup, it’s still in the works, I just can’t seem to finish it. And I kinda secretly don’t wanna share.
O. Mozza eluded us until a few months back. At the behest of The Fresser, we sauntered from Cube to Mozza after finding Cube’s stainless steel bar replete with winos one random night. That’s right. I walked. From a restaurant. To another restaurant. In Los Angeles. Do you all know how much I hate walking?
But it doesn’t end there. I walked some more, after opening Mozza’s front door, and plopped my arse right in front of grande dame of LA chefdom, Nancy Silverton herself. For the rest of the night, we watched Ms. Silverton chop, slice and plate her way through a dozen burrata servings. True story. You may now wonder why the word “reservation” is amiss from above narration.
Since that day, Mozza2go has opened, and I could care less. For $16, I’d rather stuff my face with a full size pie from Garage Pizza (or Bollini) matched to my own $8 bottle malbec. O. Mozza has a sense of austere reverence not replicated elsewhere in the Mozza empirelet. Big mama Silverton is watching, cooking, barely conversing with the diners. Hushed convo is omnipresent, starting with the servers gently whispering cocktails to the tender, ending at the quite musings happening throughout the “O”. The first night we were there, we sat next to George Abou-Daoud, owner of Delancey, Mission Cantina, Bowery, & apparently 2 more soon-to-open restaurants. It was odd because I totally didn’t recognize him even tho he mentioned he was a restaurant owner while talking to Ms. Silverton, and only was able to associate the name after seeing him a few days later at Taste of the Nation LA. Pardon the tangent & sorry for the name dropping. It’s not like I know the guy, I just like Bowery’s burger.
The famed grilled octupus was first shared, followed by burrata with speck and steamed mussels. Fresser had some pasta, but I was already quite fulfilled and awaited dessert. We didn’t mean to have the budino, but due to my inability to grasp English, I had misordered and ended consuming both the piccolo budino caldo di cioccolato and some Bombolini (err. Italian fried donuts, also available elsewhere in LA)
A month later, I repeated the short jog between Cube and Mozza. We were craving dessert, but the betsu bara wasn’t there to step up right away, a walk was needed. First I thought a budino could be quickly secured from M2Go, but at 10pm, the curbside pizzeria was closed. Then we went for the bling, the Big O. “Why yes, we do have a space for two”. For nearly an hour, we mused the worthiness of the $280 for 2 year deal at 24 Hour Fitness, the state of real estate market in Monterey Park, the effectiveness of the modern birth control pills, and degusted 2 perfectly portioned desserts: the apricot crostada and the rosemary olive cake with olive oil gelato. This encounter with the olive oil gelato inspired this rosemary olive oil ice cream recipe.
Aesops’ take home point: Don’t be a fool for pie, sit at O’s bars.