Sherry Seduced by Freddy Smalls; Besha Meets Hoodie Brigade at Mother Dough

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Wall of Fred Photo: Tatiana Arbogast

Freddy Smalls manages to work its charms on S. Irene Virbila, who wasn't always such a fan of tight, thumping spaces like Black Hogg and this guy in the past. In a review, she admits to being initially reluctant to come here (no reservations, GASP!), while also boasting that she's the leader of a "dining crew" known for getting itchy when they have to wait. Next thing you know, Virbs is getting down and dirty, sizing up Freddy Prinze Sr., drinking beer, eating head cheese and tongue pastrami, and raving over Charlie Parker's "polished" and "seductive" cooking, which includes some of the "best" Brussels sprouts "in town" (we agree) and a panzanella she goes cuckoo for. "Freddy Smalls is the complete package hip but not so much that it's off-putting," she concludes, echoing our own long-winded, initial feelings that this is a well-chartered neighborhood bar that backs up a great booze program with engaging eats. [LAT]

As is the thing to do these days, Besha Rodell compares the scene at Hollywood's Mother Dough to one of those beat-a-joke-to-death gags inPortlandia, referencing a staff shirt that has "a bird on it." Eavesdropping on a bunch of douches in hoodies (one is "Pepto-pink," another resembles the patterned mumu your grandma favored), she recounts one of the inspired pies (shishitos and pistachio, "beautiful char on the crust") before abruptly ending on a mention of the restaurant's antique railroad nails. She pretty much sums up what you can expect here, more or less, short of offering her own feelings on the pie-slinger's output. Maybe that is what has the piece's sole online commenter comparing these observations to "10th grade writing assignments." [SI]