Eating family style

So, Wonder Woman has resurrected her version of the Restaurant Club. Exciting, because it means discovering lots of interesting eateries in the LA area.

First up was Orris, a Japanese tapas place over on Sawtelle, the westside's version of J-town.

However, before I get any deeper into this delicious tale, I should provide some background information on my restauranting habits.

As a child, I never went to a lot of restaurants. There was the odd celebratory dinner at Sizzler's, where we all (or, mostly my mother) delighted in the All-you-can-eat popcorn shrimp and salad bar. But mostly we ate at home. And, with a mother who was interested (and generally successful) in experimenting, and a grandmother who had decades of tasty Japanese cooking in her repertoire, it was a good life. An eclectc mix of sukiyaki, lasagne, beef stroganoff over rice, curry, Korean BBQ, ramen and soba, tempura, layered chocolate mousse, sushi and hamburgers. Besides, doing anything (restaurants, visits to Disneyland, music and sports lessons, family vacations and trips to asia) for seven, could never have been cheap.

The one exception to the Sizzler rule was family get-togethers with my father's side of the family. My father was the first of the clan to move out to the United States, but it wasn't too long before the rest of his realtives followed suit. So it was that my grandparents lived in Koreatown, an aunt and her family settled in Orange County, another aunt's family in Saugus, an uncle and family in LA, and a far-off brother on the east coast. Any national holiday was an opportunity to get together in K-town for a large dinner. The type where we'd take up several large circular tables at the Chinese restaurant down the street from my grandparents' apartment, and order tons of food! Exotic vegetables. Sweet and sour pork. Noodles with that savory, black, onion sauce. Shrimp. Cashew chicken. All with steaming bowls of glistening rice in metal bowls with lids. It was free-range eating, as long as our arms could reach the dishes that cavorted merrily on the fascinating lazy Susans.

What I'm trying to say is that single-plate dining is not in my food vocabulary. When I eat out, trying to choose just one dish to order is a trial and ordeal. Of course, there are some things that I am always drawn to. Anything with eggplant, squash, zucchini or succulent mushrooms is automatically appealing. Carmelized onions are also a huge draw. And anything that looks to artfully combine potatoes and garlic is always a benefit. But, on the whole, ordering just one thing is never satisfying. And I do try to experiment with interesting restaurants when I'm travelling solo, but it's always much more gratifying to go to a restaurant with a bunch of other food-sharers, order a plethora of dishes, and share and share alike.

Which brings us back to Orris. It was so fun to look over their menu, and each decide on two dishes. I chose the tempura squash flowers and the pate' with eggplant (surprise, surprise). And when it came to ordering, our likewise delicious waiter volunteered to bring everything to our table portioned for eight (me, Wonder Woman, T Diddy, Venetian, Party Girl, Superman, Daddy-O and DW). And so began the parade of food. It was so tasty. Enough of each dish to tantalize the palate, with the excitement of more to come. Don't get me wrong, we cleaned each plate. And it was a small enough group to be able to converse with each person at the table. The beet dish was divine. And we had enough fish dishes to satisfy my craving. But the best was the pate' with eggplant. Small, succulent and divine.

In the end, the meal was a tad more costly than we'd anticipated. Our delicious waiter had indeed portioned the plates for eight, instead of whatever would have traditionally come on a dish. However, we were too happy to make a fuss, and $50 per person was not outrageous for the lovely feast we had just partaken of.

Leaving the restaurant was the hard part. We'd had such a good time. Plus, the huddled body warmth was keeping us seated (on the patio, just a foot or two too far from the heaters). As we walked DW to her car, I appropriated the arms of Venetian and T Diddy to make a Dora-sandwich to conserve heat. We then bid farewell to Venetian (who I'm so glad has come to our latest gatherings), and piled into T Diddy's car for the ride home.