Believe The Hype: Bludso's Is The Best BBQ In LA

The best BBQ restaurant in LA isn't actually a restaurant. It's a cramped, broom closet-sized enclave in Compton that has a take-out window, a mocking joke of a "lunch counter", and a massive coal-black smoker in the back that acts as a sort of foodie Tesseract, opening spectral doors to let in flavors of the divine.

Bloggers have given themselves capral tunnel syndrome typing raves about the 'Q cooked up by southland native Kevin Bludso. Normally, I fancy myself an iconoclastic, go-against-the-grain contrarian (i.e. "In & N burgers are overrated and soggy!" "Fight Club was all about Chuck Palahniuk hating himself for being gay and is nowhere near as smart as it thinks it is!" "Bill Hicks was never actually that funny!") This time, however, I gotta run with the herd. Because the herd is going somewhere fucking delicious.

The basics: the char-ringed ribs are spectacular, the pulled pork is amongst the finest in town, and the sides -- collard greens stewed in a potent chicken broth, creamy-pungent potato salad, profoundly spicy baked beans -- are stellar. (Except the mac and cheese, which is stringy and underwhelming; but to be fair, I have yet to find a BBQ joint that does all sides equally well.) All that said, the brisket is where you'll find the real action.

First, a caveat: brisket is an astoundingly easy-to-fuck-up dish. Go to a place like Kansas City BBQ in North Hollywood and watch your dreams die in a puddle of overcooked brisket deluged in lukewarm sauce. Even the great Dr. Hogly Wogly's in Van Nuys can't seem to quite get the alchemy down right.

But at Bludso's, brisket is a matter of science, religion, and art. The beef comes out steaming, stacked in thick slices reminiscent of the pastrami cuts at Langer's, ringed with carbonized spice rub and marbled with little islands of juicy fat. Forget melting in your mouth; this stuff almost melts on your fork and sublimates into a rush of smoky umami the second you take a bite.The (sparingly used) spicy-sweet, homemade, tomato-and-molasses sauce lingers on your palate like the afterglow of a great first date. It's the kind of dish you want to invent time travel for, so you can experience eating it for the first time all over again. 

Your list of reasons to go to Compton just got longer.

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• WHAT:  Bludso's transcendent BBQ
• WHERE: 811 S Long Beach Blvd Compton CA
• WHEN: Open for lunch and dinner everyday but Monday
• $$$: Dishes start at $10

You Had This Coming: HIPSTER HOLOCAUST Premiere Party

Last year, your intrepidLA writers decided they'd had enough of the "daily grind" that goes along with running a website (i.e. drinking rotgut wine to dull the pain, dodging phone calls from concerned loved ones, not being able to afford bedsheets) and came up with an escape plan: we were going to make a brilliant short film that would swiftly catapult us into careers as directors and producers, and leave behind this blogging bullshit for the birds. Hollywood was calling us, by our correct names (unlike what happens to us during sex) and who were we to ignore the call? We immediately launched a Kickstarter campaign and dove into making our future happen.

Anyway, it's 12 months later and we're still pretty much in the same place we were last year, but on the bright side... we got our movie made! And we're holding the premiere screening at the beginning of next month! And you're invited! Ladies and gentlemen, brace yourselves, for the hilarious, unholy horror that is HIPSTER HOLOCAUST is about to be unleashed upon you.

A short film done 80's grindhouse-style, HH tells the story of a deranged nerd who exacts unfathomable vengeance on his hipster-infested Silverlake neighborhood. Like a slasher flick starring the population of the Coachella parking lot, or a mash-up of 500 DAYS OF SUMMER and FALLING DOWN, you're in for a two-and-half minute blast of gore, laughs, and wish-fulfillment.

Craft beer, wine, and appetizers (courtesy of Chef PandaBear) will be served, although we recommend watching the movie on an empty stomach. There will be a Q&A with the filmmakers afterward, so you can ask questions like "Jesus, why?" Come out, mingle, sip, and support your local hipster-killers.

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• WHAT:  Premiere party for Hipster Holocaust
• WHERE: Location TBA -- RSVP on Facebook for info
• WHEN: Thursday, May 3rd at 8:30 PM
• $$$: Free

Part Flash-Mob. Part Dance-Party. Partly Legal. All Awesome.

Every two years, a random section of Los Angeles becomes the site of an impromptu outdoor dance party, thanks to the merry pranksters of the Los Angeles Mobile Discotheque (aka some of the people who run this website.) Since 2008, we've dance-mobbed The Grove, done a conga-line through Canter's Deli, had dance-offs against various security guards, and gotten celebrity impersonators to stop harassing tourists long enough to get funky with us on Hollywood Blvd. Trust me, this is one the most liberating experiences you will ever have.

Put a pin in for the end of this month -- because on the 27th of April, we're throwing Los Angeles Mobile Discotheque Part 3: The Revenge. It's going to be a wild, sexy, silly, subversive celebration of the fact that there are no laws against dancing en masse in public. It's also going to be a 30th birthday extravaganza for Sean French, a dear friend of LAMD and all-around stand-up guy (who will be in attendance as long as he isn't still in jail for exposing himself at that Denny's in Victorville.)

Here's how it's gonna work...

1: Upload a playlist onto your Ipod/MP3 player/whatever -- anything that has headphones. (For an opening track, I highly recommend "Turn On The Light" by Solovox.)

2: Come prepared to get your groove on in public. (Do what you need to do here, people.)

3: Gather at a public location -- in this case, the front of Mann's Chinese Theater, where the handprints are. We mingle as if we're just regular folks out for a night on the town. And then, at exactly 10:07 PM...

4: Everyone throws in their earbuds and starts dancing their asses off to whatever's on their iPods. To any passing civilians, the world will suddenly feel like it has become a giant, silent discotheque. (Check out this video if you want a taste of what it looks like.)

5: We boogie until security shows us out, at which point we DANCE PARADE down the sidewalk to Hollywood and Highland, where we keep the party going to our heart's content.

6: For anyone who's interested, we'll be taking the train to Los Feliz for an after-party at Ye Rustic Inn (aka the epicenter of classiness of North America.)

One last thing -- we're considering a crowd-sourced playlist this year, so that people can dance in synchronicity with each other. Anyone who's interested in this idea, drop us a line and send us links or MP3s of you three favorite songs to shake your ass to. If we get enough tracks submitted, we'll cultivate a playlist out of them and make it available for download from Facebook before the event.

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• WHAT: The greatest flash-mob/dance-party/birthday celebration of 2012
• WHERE: The front courtyard of Mann's Chinese Theater 
• WHEN: Friday, April 27th -- earbuds go in at exactly 10:07 PM. (Get there early.)
• $$$: FREE!!! RSVP Here.

How To Disappear Completely

I'd been dreading going to Opaque ever since I'd made the reservation. For a week, the mere thought of the place would make my palms sweat and long-dormant childhood fears come boiling up like angry ghosts. "I can't believe I'm doing this," my brain would say to itself. "Who's idea was this, anyway? Oh right, mine. Dammit."

To give you some context: Opaque is the famous LA restaurant where you dine in complete darkness. That's right -- a completely blacked out room, with multi-course gourmet meals served by a team of blind waiters. The idea is that, once your sight is taken away, all your other senses -- particularly taste -- go through the roof. It's the grandaddy of all LA gimmick restaurants.

It's also, I presumed, a nightmarish deathtrap for anyone who has claustrophobia or fears of the dark. Of which I have both. I could see myself being guided into the airless black depths of the restaurant, where my panic reflex would kick in and I would flee the room in a flurry of screams and overturned tables. The only thing that kept me from backing out was Bobby, one of the friends in my dinner party, an ex-quarterback alpha-male whom I didn't want to wimp out in front of. (Bobby looks like me, except one foot taller, musclebound, sandy-haired, clean shaven and handsome. It's like we were separated at birth.)

Jump ahead a few days and the night is upon you. You walk into the restaurant's 80's-style lounge, where you pick your entrees from a prix fixe menu. You pour a martini down your throat and think of the time your older sister trapped you inside a storage box when you were five and you peed your pants. Your waiter, a loveable cat who resembles Charles S. Dutton, rolls up and instructs everyone in your party to link hands to shoulders, forming a train. You follow him through a cloaked doorway, then through another, light diminishing with every step you take, until you round a corner and it's like Homeland Security has dropped a sackcloth over your head. Holy shit! They were not fucking around with this "complete darkness" business! Shutting your eyes is suddenly the same as keeping them open. The air turns thick. Your heart jackhammers. Fight-or-flight instincts rear up. Panic overtakes you...

...and then, just like that, everything settles. You sit down, you hear other people around the room talking and laughing, you echo-visualize the space around you, and relief suddenly washes over you in a great wave. Your pupils are so jacked that you can make out bits of static electricity flying off napkins like green fireflies. What was oppressive starts to feel cozy. Fear becomes giddiness. You're filled with the rare sensation of being absolutely, 100%, present.

Below is a list of things that were said while dining at Opaque (from the moment we sat down and over the course of the dinner.)

--"Where's Bobby?"

--"Uh, Bobby... left."

--"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

--"Wow, this place really makes you empathetic toward the blind."

--"How, exactly, did they put out a job ad looking for blind waiters?"

--"Hey guys, Bobby's back! Nice of you to show up, pussy."

--"That sign by the entrance that said 'Dress Code Strictly Enforced'... that's a joke, right?"

--"Waitaminute -- you haven't been eating with your hands the entire time?

--"Why the hell did they give us mashed potatoes? Don't they know I'm eating with my hands??"

--"Wouldn't it be hilarious if the waiter's just pretending to be blind, and he's laughing his ass off at us right now?"

--"For real, this might be the best filet mignon I've ever had in my life."

--"It must be awesome to be a chef here. You don't have to care at all about presentation."

--"This would either be the world's easiest or hardest place to dine-and-dash."

--"I have literally been picking my nose and flipping you off this entire time."

You get the idea.

Strange as it to say, there was something oddly therapeutic waiting for me in the darkness that night.

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• WHAT:  Dining in complete darkness at Opaque
• WHERE: 2020 Wilshire Boulevard, Santa Monica, CA (310) 546-7619
• WHEN: Thurs-Saturday, starting at 7 PM. Reservation required.
• $$$: Not cheap -- the prix fixe menu is $100 per person

A Hideaway Of IPA

Walking into The Lab is a bit like walking into Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory, if Willy Wonka had decided to ditch chocolate for beer. (Which would have resulted in a markedly different book altogether, with Veruca Salt going skinny-dipping in the chocolate stout river, Augustus Gloot passing out in his lederhosen, and Charlie drunkenly yelling "I'm famous, bitch!" while escaping from the cops in a great glass elevator.)

Somebody needs to make that book happen NOW.

I'm getting off on a tangent here, aren't I? 

An acronym for Live Arts Brewing, The Lab is the stuff of myth for those who like their beer crafted with artisanal care. A rootsy hideaway tucked out in Agoura Hills, the first thing you notice upon entry are the comically massive copper brewing casks, taking up an entire glass-walled room, like robot incubation chambers from a sci-fi movie. The beer list manages to run both broad and deep, with house brews like the creamy Midnight Moo milk stout, the lives-up-to-its-name Bad Influence IPA, and 30+ on tap that span different styles across the globe. They also make a pleasing little XPA, a more subtle version of its India-bound brother, the ideal beer for anyone who wants some hoppiness but doesn't want to get kicked in the face by it.

You won't go hungry. The joint has a Father's Office-rivaling bleu/gruyere/bacon burger, a lemony Tuscan kale salad, and a sea salt roasted bone marrow that you can spread across crostinis, a process decadent enough to evoke Al Pacino lining out cocaine in Scarface. The place hosts live music and patio brunches on Sundays, and they're even throwing a 5-course dinner with Lagunitas beer pairings later this month.

For those microbrew true believers among us, this place alone is well worth the pilgrimage from LA. For the merely brew-curious, it's the ideal spot to cap off a day in the canyons or the beach, situated right off the 101's Malibu access point, a perfect spot to sit and sip as spring gives way to summer. And remember, it's BYOOL.*

*bring your own Oompa Loompa.

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• WHAT:  The Lab, a monument to all things brewed
• WHERE: 30105 Agoura Road, Agoura Hills, CA
• WHEN: Sun-Wed, 11 AM - 11 PM, Thurs, 11 AM - midnight, Fri-Sat, 11 AM - 2 AM
• $$$: Pints start around $6, average dinner $12