Sadly, deviled eggs do not have their roots in the witch trials of Salem, or in one of the dark, soul-ratting tales of H.P. Lovecraft. But they do have a history, dating back to ancient Rome, when they were a special treat for the upper crust, who would begin their meals of boar stuffed with chicken with a hard-cooked egg sprinkled with herbs and spices.
The more colorful descriptive of “deviled” didn’t come into common usage till the 1800s, when just about any spicy food was given demonic roots — such as deviled ham and fra diavolo sauce. (They must get a lot of heartburn down in Hades!)
But despite being taken from Satan’s cookbook, deviled eggs evolved over the years into a standard at church picnics, and family get-togethers on Sunday afternoons. Though in a more polite society, they would be cleansed of their hint of fire and brimstone with neatly manicured names like “stuffed eggs,” “salad eggs” and “dressed eggs” — none of which are nearly as colorful as “deviled eggs.”
And none of which existed for me growing up in the Bronx.
We ate hard-boiled eggs. We ate soft-boiled eggs. We flavored them with salt. Life was simple. We did not use mayonnaise, mustard, vinegar or pickle relish. I didn’t know what I was missing. For the rest of America, deviled eggs were as standard as apple pie and a tuna fish or chopped chicken salad at picnics. For me, they were just rubbery eggs with coarse salt.
I was totally out of step with the taste of the nation.
One survey found that 61 percent of Americans ate deviled eggs at Easter Sunday feasts. Egg cartons were saved to carry deviled eggs to picnics. My hard-cooked eggs seem pretty weak compared to the caviar and anchovies mixed in deviled eggs served around the globe. This particular devil has a worldwide reach.
And, after many decades of being as Middle American as Jell-O salad, deviled eggs are making a comeback in restaurants — both down-home and trendy. Chefs who have spent years doing interesting things with compound butters and quirky herbs have come to see the deviled egg as a tabula rasa — a dish so mundane in its essential ingredients that it’s open to just about any variation that can be dreamed of.
These days, I always order deviled eggs, if they’re on the menu, just to see what twists and turns Old Scratch has in his bag of tricks. The devil may be evil, but his eggs sure do taste good.
Boneyard Bistro
13539 Ventura Blvd., Sherman Oaks; 818-906-7427, www.boneyardbistro.com
Boneyard Bistro is one of the most unexpected hybrids in town — and that says plenty, for our hybrids are, by definition, pretty darned outré. From Peruvian sushi to Mexican-Cajun, there’s no way to grow weary of dining out in SoCal. And Boneyard Bistro adds one more layer of happy eccentricity to the mix.
On the one hand, this is a very good classic barbecue shop — serving hickory smoked pork ribs, Santa Maria red oak grilled beef ribs, pulled pork and pulled chicken. But on the other hand, “bistro” is not simply a bit of useful alliteration. Though this is an “American bistro” and not a French one. Not much more than just a little bit.
That little bit is found in the pan-roasted petit filet mignon with foie gras and haricot vert, blue cheese risotto and a blackberry-balsamic reduction — a big chunk of which sounds properly Gallic. Ditto the roasted garlic gastrique served with the oak-grilled New York strip. And the shaved fennel, crispy shallots and tarragon vinaigrette with the Bibb lettuce salad. And let’s not forget the miso glazed bone marrow with toast. The miso is Japanese, but the consumption of bone marrow is very French.
From there on, the “bistro” side of the menu runs happily amuck, with bacon as an underlying theme. There’s bacon in the hickory smoked deviled eggs, further flavored with smoked jalapeños and Sriracha — a dish that can’t be resisted.
There’s a small mountain of bacon in the immodestly named Boneyard’s Famous House Cured & Double Hickory Smoked Bacon Building Blocks. There’s bacon in the cornmeal crusted okra poppers — along with cheddar and cream cheese, and Cajun ranch dressing. And, of course, there’s bacon on the Wedge iceberg lettuce salad. And on most of the burgers. Believe me — I’m not complaining.
Horseless Carriage
Galpin Ford, 15505 Roscoe Blvd., North Hills; 818-351-5027, www.galpin.com/horselesscarriage
I guess if you’re a high-roller customer at Galpin Jaguar, or Galpin Lincoln, you might opt for big deal dishes like shrimp and New York steak combo, or the deluxe prime rib.
But I drive a hybrid, which is why I opted for the hybrid meal of a half sandwich with soup or salad at the Horseless Carriage Restaurant. The soup was a very tasty bowl of chicken and vegetables. And, for the half sandwich, I went with a textbook tuna salad on whole wheat toast — though the deviled egg sandwich and the BLT were darned tempting. There’s corned beef and pastrami too, along with turkey, beef, ham and cheese.
And, yes, I always wonder what becomes of the other half a sandwich; maybe it’s saved for later?
There’s a tempting section of club sandwiches; the triple-decker club, Californian-style, sounds so tempting. (The California-style probably refers to the avocado.) There are Galpinburgers as well, as recognizable as the Fords parked for display in front of the restaurant — including a Hawaiian burger made Hawaiian with a slice of grilled pineapple (so old school!), and a somewhat, slightly, almost modernist buffalo burger. (“25 to 30 percent fewer calories than beef, and less cholesterol than chicken or fish,” they say).
Breakfast, which is served all day, runs to pancakes, waffles, French toast, and egg dishes — and more egg dishes — from the ubiquitous two eggs any style served with a choice of proteins, with toast or an English muffin, and with fried spuds topped with sour cream and scallions, through half a dozen three-egg omelets, one made with buffalo chili, another with a spicy Louisiana sausage. You can mix and match, and build your own omelet as well.
This is the sort of deeply American eatery where a pair of poached eggs over spinach topped with melted cheese is listed under “Healthy Side.” I guess the spinach does it.
There’s a South of the Border section of the menu. And there are pastas as well, many of them, a page of “Lean and Luscious” dishes. And for desert … strawberry shortcake, hot fudge sundae, Jell-O with whipped cream, tapioca pudding and more. The wine list consists of … “glass of wine.” Truly, 1966 lives at Galpin.
Dark Horse Tavern
5507 Reseda Blvd., Tarzana; 818-881-8328, www.darkhorsetavernla.com
Like several of the locals — Springbok Bar & Grill, The Dirty Bull, The Tipsy Cow, The Crow’s Nest, The Surly Goat — Dark Horse Tavern has an animal name. Dark Horse is easy to zip by on Reseda Boulevard, for it’s a bit hidden in plain sight, just north of Ventura Boulevard.
Parking can be a bit of a challenge. But once inside, it’s a cheerful place — not nearly as dim as the name suggests — with a menu of dishes not often found in sports bars.
There are, of course, certain dishes that must be properly honored — the wings in a choice of hot or sweet sauce, the burgers, the tacos. But even without those, there are twists and turns that are more than a little unexpected.
The Devilishly Pickled Eggs are not just deviled eggs, but pickled pink with little ribbons of bacon sticking out the top. Cute. There’s a poke stack, though I guess ahi poke has moved well beyond the fringe to mainstream bar food. There aren’t just potato frites, but cauliflower frites as well, as if this was a vegan sports bar.
And indeed, there are oddball touches throughout the menu. There are sliders made with stout-braised short ribs. A trio of mini schnitzels on Hawaiian rolls, called “Bubbie’s Schnitzel.” Bubbie’s? “Bubba’s” would make more sense!
The presence of a kale and quinoa salad definitely rattles the notion of bar food. On the other hand, the notion of bar food is well represented by the DH Evil Burger (ground chuck, bacon, sautéed shallots, feta cheese, pastrami, chile aioli, shredded romaine, and parmesan crisps, served on a buttered grilled brioche bun). Oddly, the menu makes it clear that this is available “medium-well to well only.” To wash it all down, there’s beer.
The Front Yard
The Garland Hotel, 4222 Vineland Ave., North Hollywood; 818-255-7290, www.thefrontyardla.com
The Front Yard — which, I guess, also could be called “Adjacent to Valet Parking” — is a rambling space, with a sizable outdoor area (adjacent, etc.) that includes a blazing fireplace, several interior dining rooms with a private dining room in the back, and a big bar with various booths and a communal table.
Related Articles
Mother’s Day dining: 5 great brunch, dinner options in the San Fernando Valley
Middle Eastern food in Northridge has many fans at this restaurant
Cuban food is a delight at this casual Burbank restaurant
Mexican food has an Oaxacan accent at this Sun Valley restaurant
Dominican food in North Hollywood is a tasty treasure at this restaurant
The chorizo deviled eggs are scattered with chorizo chunks that tasted a bit like beef jerky. There are tuna tartar tacos and chive flatbread. But mostly, there’s hotel food served in a hotel setting.
The Front Yard’s menu begins with standard-issue in the morning, and works to less standard-issue as the day goes on. Show up for breakfast, and there’s a buffet, along with buttermilk pancakes, and Nutella-stuffed French toast.
Dinner dishes begin to appear at lunch time, along with half a dozen salads, and half a dozen sandwiches; you want a ground short rib burger with a fried egg and “secret sauce,” there it is. Ditto ricotta gnocchi with gruyere.
If you opt to hang around in the bar, there are french fries slathered with dried chiles and Mexican oregano, a smoked pork quesadilla, and grilled mahi mahi tacos with pineapple-corn salsa.
It all can be washed down with an eclectic selection of artisan beers (Venice Duck Hemp Brown Ale? Bay Hawk Chocolate Porter?), and cocktails with names like the Cranky J, the Lobby Boy and the Dirty Santo.
The communal table in the bar is pretty accessible throughout the evening. But the booths tend to fill up fast with groups from the nearby studios, talking gross and net points, and luxuriating in word of a competing studio’s failure; Hollywood is fueled by schadenfreude.
Finney’s Crafthouse
164 E. Palm Ave., Burbank; 818-572-4610, www.finneyscrafthouse.com
Finney’s Crafthouse — which also has locations in Porter Ranch, San Luis Obispo, Westlake Village, Santa Barbara and Ventura — has a sizable menu of dishes that go well with beer. Familiar favorites like hot wings and crispy tacos. But much more as well.
Indeed, even wings and tacos take turns unique at Finney’s. The wings come seven ways. But actually, since we have a choice of with bones and without, I guess that’s 14 ways. There’s yuzu Buffalo, orange chili, garlic parmesan, Cajun 7-spice, Nashville hot, mango habanero, and sauceless “naked.” And there’s a choice of two out of the four dipping sauces — ranch, blue cheese, honey mustard and umami. (And how much does it say about our culinary world when terms like “umami” and “yuzu” can be simply batted around with the ease of a Wiffle ball.
These days, we all know our quinoa from our tofu. And we know there’s nothing especially outré about an order of tacos packed with cauliflower and chickpeas with cilantro crema and yuzu sauce. Or mahi mahi with “firecracker” aioli.
There are mini ahi poke tacos as well, up in the Starters & Snacks section of the menu, next to the deviled eggs packed with candied bacon and Sriracha sauce. The Sriracha is turned into a maple butter served with the chicken and waffle bites. And yes, retro happiness incarnate, there are Bavarian pretzels, thick and crunchy, served with pale ale cheese, sweet mustard and … caramel? Which seems like a sin against the god of beery rituals. Mustard, yes! Caramel, not so much.
There are no entrées here, no platters of ribs and such. But goodness knows, there’s plenty to eat. The biggest dishes are the Sandwiches & Burgers, to which you can add tater tots, fries, sweet potato fries, truffle fries or a small side salad. (Which isn’t nearly as much fun as the rest of the menu!)
The burger meat is a combo of chuck, brisket and hanger steak, though there’s also an Impossible Burger, a veggie patty and a bison burger. You can order a gluten-free bun, or substitute a lettuce wrap.
Go that route, and what you’re doing in a beer house is a bit of a mystery. It’s a bit like the fellow I used to know who went to Lawry’s Prime Rib for the fish. Even the servers looked at him as if he were strange. And he complained every time that the fish was awful. Well … yeah! It’s Lawry’s Prime Rib. And this is Finney’s Crafthouse. Crafty is the way to play it.
Merrill Shindler is a Los Angeles-based freelance dining critic. Email mreats@aol.com.