Are Wet Feet Worth It For Home’s Cooking?

We often go to movies at the Los Feliz 3. It’s a five-minute drive up Vermont (not counting parking time), it has $4.50 weekend matinees, and it’s relatively small and clean. Plus, it’s still running Juno. But because we were going for lunch beforehand, I did some Yelp-ing, and found Home Restaurant a few blocks away on Hillhurst. And, upon reading that their specialty burger was a tofu burger – not a garden patty burger, but a tofu burger – I picked it as the place to check out while we were at the movies. Last time, it was Superbad and Fred 62, which, while not bad, would probably be better at 1am than it was at 2pm.

We had to cross Hillhurst to get to the restaurant, which wasn’t so bad. It involved some minor leaping over an overflowing gutter, but nothing too bad. Then we were pleasantly surprised when our 30-40 minute wait became a 10 minute wait, during which we had been huddled under a table umbrella outside. Then we were even more pleasantly surprised when the service was fast. Within twenty minutes of sitting down in a cozy corner with cheerful yellow walls, I was working my way through my tofu burger – literally, tofu mashed with spices, on a bun with chipotle sauce – and being happily reminded of the similar creations my mother made when I was growing up. Other people go looking for meat loaf or tuna casserole for comfort foods; I go looking for foods with tofu mashed up in them.

The wet feet happened on the way out. The gutter that we had jumped before had become the size of a small creek, and there was no way I could jump it without slipping. And, to add insult to injury, some jerk in a minivan sped by while I was evaluating the situation, hydroplaned through the edge of the water, and splashed me head to toe. Finally, I jumped, got my right foot hopelessly soaked, and then squelched the three blocks over to Vermont. By that time, the wet right foot was actually kind of funny.

So today, I learned two things. One, that I want to go back and eat more things on Home’s menu. Most of it looked like the kind of West Coast American fare I’m especially fond of – creative salads, ahi tuna burgers, etc. And that it was even worth getting wet feet to find a place that makes a good tofu burger. And two, that I might need galoshes after all, just for days like this when it pours in L.A.

5 thoughts on “Are Wet Feet Worth It For Home’s Cooking?”

  1. No.

    Fred 62 has the worst service. I can tell you, having lived in too many countries, some as far ass the Valley and then a few round the other side of the planet. Home comes in second (I was a resident of the area for a couplea years, north of the boulevard, to boot) with respect to shitty service. And do not get me started about Yucca’s (about which I have all sortsa news, owing to my formerly intimate involvement with not only the neighbourhood but the barely four-year olde LF newspaper in the area.) The best food in the area? Palermo’s. Bar none.

  2. i’m a long-time fan of Home. i think they offer a rainy-day discount, which perhaps compensates for having to sit indoors when it’s not possible to enjoy their lovely outdoor atmoshere and koi pond accessorized with dinosaur action figures. PS: in the warm LA sunshine and a cool spring breeze, the warm spinach salad can’t be beat.

  3. I love Home, though I’ve had both great and terrible service there. When I lived in Los Feliz, I got takeout from Home about once a week, but they revamped the menu a few years ago and some things have changed considerably.

    Palermo’s alright, but it’s far from the best “bar none” and there are a few things on the menu that I think are downright bad. I’d probably put Electric Lotus at the top, but I haven’t tried some of the newer places that have opened in the last two years. Also close to the top is the Brazilian spot Tropicalia, north of Franklin on Hillhurst.

  4. Yes, Electric Lotus is damn good as well. I have to admit I forgot about them because I have only been there twice since in L.A. (I tried them when they had the door by the 7-11, many years ago, and was so poorly impressed that I did not return until some friends urged me to give them another chance in early 2006.)

  5. the place is called ‘ home ‘ , but not for any particular reason that i can discern .

    growin up , i never had a large fountain with little orange koi fish in the pond .
    i never ate breakfast under the great september eighty degree hollywood skies .
    and home never had a great big green neon sign to tell me where i was . that wasnt til i was much older , when it was spelled p – u – b .

    ahh , its true , ya never forget the good times . which is why it took so long to write this review . home is lame .

    i dragged jerryco ™ along with me for a lil down home eatin . cause he’s east coast , and wouldn’t know chicken fried goodness if they it was slipped into his galoshes and left to sit all summer in the humid hole that is everything east of pasadena .

    but , i digress .

    we sat right next to the fountain , remarking aloud how great the place looked and how great it would be to fatten up here , bask in the sun like a dead cat on a window sill , then go see some art .

    after the ordering and a round of coffee served in a paper cup , we sat back and awaited the impending breakfast onslaught .

    and awaited .

    and awaited .

    and awaited .

    when this thing finally made it to me , i thought i had made it to the top of somebody’s shit list for wanting to grab the rubber ducky from the fountain to do a rousing rendition of the ever popular burt and ernie song . larger than half the plate , thicker than a hot stripper’s wad of dollar bills and more brown than a dark hershey bar , this chicken fried steak was the chicken fried steak that the cooks must have called ‘ generalisimo ‘ .

    gravy came in a lil cup , which woulda been nice if there wasnt so much skin on it . potatoes were done appropriately well , upon request . but were certainly no blue ribbon winners at the potato cookoff .

    its not that you ‘ cant go home again ‘ ,
    its just not worth going back to .

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