Livin' the Good Life in Van Nuys
I confess, or Brian does in fact, that his parents do not live in LA proper, they call the Valley home. The Valley is suburban sprawl at its most perverse, where one town seamlessly blends into the next, and north and south of Ventura boulevard delineate the right, from the wrong sides of the tracks. But there are good things to be had in the Valley: the Schindler house, in its dilapidation in Woodland Hills; bookstores with smelly, old copies of Charles Lamb's collected works; and Dr. Hogly Wogly's Tyler Texas BBQ in Van Nuys.
The bright green astro turf beckoned me inside, and the smoke from the BBQ lay thick in the air. Carnivores need be the only diners to apply for a plum dinner seating at this local joint. With a quick glance at the menu, of hot links, various types of pork products, both beef and spareribs, chicken, and the brisket, Brian and I, encouraged by our fellow diners, decided to split the two way combination of beef brisket, and spare ribs. When the meat arrived, not swimming in BBQ sauce, but resting haphazardly in a plate of rich au jus, with a small pitcher of sauce on the side, we knew that we were in for a gluttonous treat. The spareribs were succulent, the meat literally falling from the bone, no need to exercise the canines. And the brisket was not the typical fatty and tough pieces of meat; these were prime cuts of beef, fork tender and still juicy.
Now in my history, BBQ joints are not known for their sides, but this was not the case for Dr. HogWog. We selected the baked beans; delicately sweetened with brown sugar, and clearly given a boost with liquid smoke; and cole slaw, tangy yet not too vinegary, nor swimming in heavy mayonnaise-based dressing. These sides were so ideal, we actually ordered more to round out the meal. Each diner was given a flaky, chewy, homemade dinner roll, the size of a hamburger bun, to sop up the liquid heaven that was left on the plate.
When the bill came, wetnaps and toothpicks included, and I sat back, surprised by just how much Texas BBQ was consumed during my dinner hour. And when I read "Was it as good for you?" fadingly emblazoned on the tray, I nodded solemnly in agreement. Dr. Hogly Wogly's is the best thing to come out of Texas, and one of the best things about the Valley.
1 Comments:
Happy to see you singing the praises of life in the San Fernando Valley. To the uninitiated, it may just be the “Valley” or the San Fernando Valley or that place over the hill where people who can’t afford to live in Los Angeles move to. But to those of who make it home, it is the “Valley of the Stars”. And not just those distant objects that twinkle in the heavens above, but those even more distant beings that twinkle on your television screen every night. Back in the Forties, (that’s the 1940’s) there was even a hit song sung about the place… by Roy Rogers, the King of the Cowboys, himself. When royalty sings about you, you know you’re special. A few years ago, when we Valleyites were waging a valiant but futile struggle to pursue our dream of establishing a shining new city on the hill, (futile because 95% of the place is flat as a pancake) - one of the suggested names was Camelot. After all, it’s hard to travel the broad reaches of the Valley, passing mini-mall after mini-mall with their dry cleaning establishments, donut shops, fast food dispensers and all things Arthurian and not be reminded of pre-historical England. While some may try to paint the Valley as completely lacking in a cultural or intellectual life, we Knights of the Roundtable Pizza, proudly point to Universal Studios and say “hah.” So for those of you who have never made the drive through the Sepulveda Pass to travel the length of Ventura Boulevard - (Sunset Magazine likened it to the Champs Elysee. You can look it up) - and savor the pulsating rhythms of life in the “Valley” we say “Dude - slip in that original cast CD of ‘Camelot’, turn up the air conditioning and come on down.” You can’t miss us. We’re that stretch of the 101 you sit on for hours on your way to Santa Barbara.
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