February 2008 Archives

This week's restaurant: Peking Deli, 4183 Chino Hills Parkway Suite F-G, Chino Hills.

Diligent readers will recall this blog's lament about the paucity of non-Americanized Chinese restaurants in the Inland Valley. My hope was that Chino Hills, with its proximity to Diamond Bar's Asian population, might have something a bit more interesting. A friend recommended a place, and some Internet research turned up a second.

We tried the second one -- we'll go back for the first -- on Tuesday. That was Peking Deli, which is in a strip mall off the 71 Freeway at Pipeline. It's a simple storefront operation with table service. Nothing fancy, but comfortable.

The menu has 118 items, and while it includes such American staples as orange chicken and pork fried rice, there are plenty of dishes one doesn't encounter in the 909. As another friend said after scanning the takeout menu later, "This is totally Taiwanese style."

There are two dozen soups, not just hot and sour and egg flower but seafood tofu, shredded pork with preserved pickle, and salted duck. Cold appetizers don't even have English translations but include beef brisket, duck leg, tripe and pig ear. (Try ordering pig ear at Panda Express and see what happens.)

We had pork fried rice cake ($5.25), dry noodle with Peking sauce and sesame sauce ($4.50) and beef with spicy sauce ($8.75). My friend liked the latter two best; I preferred the rice cake. It's not like the diet-food rice cake but rather slices of soft, chewy rice that resemble bamboo shoots.

All the customers but us were Asian, a good sign. Peking Deli has been in business four years and survives on word of mouth, our server told us. But she was delighted to learn that the restaurant had been well-reviewed on Yelp.com.

The only downside to the place is that it closes at 8:30. They didn't kick us out, but within two minutes of our departure, the lights were out.

I hope to go back sometime -- after first sampling that other Chino Hills Chinese restaurant.

First thing that happened to me at Tuesday's Chino Hills council meeting -- after going through the metal detector, that is -- was being greeted by spokeswoman Denise Cattern, who asked if I knew the city has a webcam on the construction of its new City Hall.

I did not. But you can watch it here. Because we're all pressed for time, I especially recommend clicking the "time lapse" button at the top, which allows you to see all the construction to date, including coffee breaks, take place in about six seconds.

If Montclair is more your bag, you can view that city's webcam, trained on construction of its eye-popping new police HQ, here.

Both are about as exciting as watching paint dry, because that's pretty much what you're watching, but there they are.

A line wrapped around Rhino Records on Sunday of people waiting to see singer-songwriter Kimya Dawson, whose songs were featured in the movie “Juno.”

At the head of the line was a high school sophomore named Melanie, who brought a stuffed panda as a gift for Dawson’s daughter, Panda. Melanie told me she discovered Dawson from “Juno” and instantly felt simpatico: “It’s like she pulled these songs from my brain. It’s kind of creepy.”

The store was cleared of customers before some 400 fans, many of them under 30, were allowed inside for the free show. It was said to be the best-attended in-store performance in Rhino's 34-year history. Most of the audience hung on Dawson’s every utterance and seemed thrilled to be there.

In a rarity for an in-store show, Dawson was onstage for a full 90 minutes, performing 18 tunes in her sing-song, stream-of-consciousness style.

And that’s even though she said she was suffering from a cold and got only an hour’s sleep the previous night because of attending the indie-film Spirit Awards ceremony. Her band members took over in the middle of the Rhino show, performing eight more songs, to give her a rest break.

Strumming a guitar, Dawson sang songs from previous albums, the soundtrack and a just-recorded children's album.

“Sorry if you just came today out of curiosity, and then there’s all this,” Dawson remarked toward the end. “But all my shows are like this.”

On my way out I ran into an unexpected fan: developer Randall Lewis. He said he’d enjoyed himself. Who knew he had such out-there taste?

I don’t think he’s going to give Dawson a free house, though.

An anonymous (why? why?) reader sent the following e-mail to yours truly and three colleagues on a food topic perhaps best showcased here:

"I would like to make a suggestion for a food article. I presented this idea to a staff writer about 4-5 years ago and they just filed it away. [Of all the nerve. -- DA]

"I am an avid fan of Bento Boxes. Definition of what these are follows:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bento

"My main interest, however, is where these are available in the Inland Empire -- more so around the surrounding Ontario airport areas. I know of a few that I patronize regularly. It's a lot of good healthy food for an average price of $6. Most Japanese establishments have this available. Some in the fine dining category may not.

"The ones that I am aware of in my general area (around Ontario Mills where my office is at) are:

"Robin Dono Sushi, 4th & Milliken, Ontario, CA (fine dining)

"Also having lived in Orange County, I patronized places that offered these bento boxes daily. There are more of these venues in O.C. so it's a common find.

"I hope this can be considered as an article. If you know of the staff writer that can perhaps do this for the Daily Bulletin, please forward this email. I'm sure they would enjoy these bento box lunches as I do.

"Thank you."

I'll leave it to the features staff whether to write an article about bento boxes, but at least your plea has been heard here at the blog. Anyone want to add to the list of bento box purveyors?

Oh, and let me add that Kazama Sushi is now in Claremont's Village Expansion, where it opened last week. Another sushi restaurant has taken its place at Grove and Foothill.

Among the Seven Wonders Past suggested by readers was the Kapu-Kai in Rancho Cucamonga.

This Polynesian paradise consisted initially of the Kapu-Kai Coffee Shop with an attached bowling alley. As I understand it, the bowling alley also boasted The Hut restaurant, Outrigger cocktail lounge and Tahitian Fire Room. This complex stood on the corner of Foothill and Vineyard from 1962 to 1994, when it was bulldozed, according to Charles Phoenix's "Cruising the Pomona Valley."

The name Kapu-Kai, he says, translates to Forbidden Sea. Ooooh! It was name-checked in Joan Didion's famous essay, "Some Dreamers of the Golden Dream."

Here's what reader Marilyn von Kuhlberg had to say about the Kapu-Kai in a recent e-mail:

"That was a unique design. Armstrong's nursery in Ontario had been designed by the same architect. First, a bowling alley, then skating rink, it had a wonderful restaurant with memorable fried chicken, the best I have ever eaten. After it was damaged in the big flood of 1969, the roof and more could not be repaired. And so it languished."

That corner is now famous for having two Starbucks outlets, one at the edge of the parking lot and a small one inside the Albertsons.

[Every now and then it's fun to do a column to appeal to the younger crowd and publicly renew my I'm-not-dead-yet credentials. It's also fun to try to explain the topic to the generally older crowd reading me.

This column was originally published Aug. 29, 2004.]

G for Glass House: top concerts a stone's-throw away

Greetings! It's a gala day here as "Pomona A to Z" gets the letter G in its greedy grasp. Which G meets my goal of showing Pomona's greatness?

Glom these gems:

* Goddess Pomona, the Roman deity of fruit, who is not only the city's icon but the dominant image in Los Angeles County's official seal.

* Ganesha Park, one of the valley's most gracious green spaces, nestled amid the picturesque Ganesha Hills.

* Garey, Gibbs and Gordon, three downtown streets named for investors who built Pomona.

* Grilled burgers at Golden Ox, the burger palace mentioned in Kem Nunn's crime thriller "Pomona Queen."

Good stuff! Yet our G, as you might guess, is another G entirely: The Glass House.

There's no sign outside and the 84 feet of windows along West Second Street reveals what looks like a vacant storefront.

Yet young people of all shapes, sizes and hair colors line up around the block to get in when the Glass House has a show.

The low-key concert venue manages to attract top-flight alternative-rock acts to good ol' Pomona.

It started with No Doubt, which opened the club with a two-night stand on Jan. 25 and 26, 1996. Among the performers since then: Sonic Youth, the White Stripes, Beck, Weezer, Tricky, the Hives, Sleater-Kinney and the Pixies.

That's right, the Pixies! Wow!

NOTE TO BAFFLED READERS: If these names mean nothing to you, don't panic. You're not old and out of touch! Are you kidding? Music was way better in your era ("your era" being anywhere from the 1930s to the mid-1990s). Yes, yes, it's all a bunch of noise today, ever since the jitterbug. I understand. Forget I brought it up.

So, anyway.

Many bands play one show in an L.A. club and also play a night at the Glass House, which draws "all the kids from Riverside and Orange County" who can't get to L.A., Glass House manager Eric Milhouse told me.

Brothers Perry and Paul Tollett co-founded the club to fill the void left by the demise of the Pomona Valley Auditorium and Montclair's Green Door as live music venues.

How does the 800-capacity Glass House out in the hinterlands of Pomona get such good bands?

The Tollett brothers are successful concert promoters in L.A. and they also stage the popular Coachella Music Festival in Indio, so they have connections. Also, bands often become big only after the Glass
House gets them.

"Usually we get bands on the cusp of becoming successful," said Glass House employee Erik Palma, who handles contracts.

Then again, Sonic Youth, a veteran band of more than two decades that came to Pomona in July, "wanted to play (here). They knew about the Glass House," Milhouse said.

Longtime residents will remember the building as a Thrifty Drugs, which operated from 1949 to the 1970s. Some remember the old layout.

"Where the mosh pit is, that's where they sold hair care products," building owner Ed Tessier told me. "Where the stage is now, that's where they dispensed drugs."

Rock and roll!!

Seriously, if you can look past the tattoos and piercings, the Glass House is a pretty safe environment. Unlike many clubs, all ages are allowed because no alcohol is served. Security guards are watchful.

"Our average age is 14, 15," Milhouse said. Parents can come in for free to inspect the place.

"It's kind of a neat thing to do all-ages shows. It's such a good outlet for kids," said Milhouse, 28, an earnest, soft-spoken music fan who grew up in Riverside.

"There's not a lot to do in the Inland Empire except go to the mall," he added, "and we all know how boring that is."

On the downside, the club has virtually no seating, so aging fans like me have to figure out how to stand for three hours. (This will become easier in a few years, when I can lean on my walker.)

But what the Glass House lacks in comfort, it makes up for in value.

Tickets average $12, parking is free and Cokes are $2. I saw up-and-comers the Shins, whose music is featured in the movie "Garden State," for $19. Try getting that deal at Staples.

One memorable recent show was an April date by the Pixies. Set to play Coachella, the newly reunited band did a surprise show in Pomona the night before.

"You saw Jack Black and Zach de la Rocha singing along to every word, as into it as the kids," Palma said.

To attend the 2002 MTV Music Awards in L.A. and their Glass House show later that night, the White Stripes had to be creative.

"They flew into Pomona on a helicopter," Milhouse said. "They landed a few blocks from here."

(David Allen writes Sunday, Wednesday and Friday, three crash landings a week.)

What a week for weather. Or as J. Wellington Wimpy used to phrase it on the comics page, between requests for hamburgers: "Nice weather, isn't it, we're having?"

Some people are rain partisans. Me, I prefer rain that falls gently at night, while I'm sleeping, before giving way to sunny skies at dawn. Not light rain and gray skies, day after day.

This overcast week, life here is like Seattle but without the coffee and monorail, San Francisco without the charm, Portland without Powell's Books and trolleys. Good weather is all we have. Without it, what are we? Bah.

Bah, I say.

This week's restaurants: Sho Sushi and Route 66 Subs, both at 373 E. Foothill Blvd., Upland.

Both restaurants in a yellow strip center at Third Avenue (I think -- the street signs are missing) notable for a Green Burrito, Digital Color World and Check 'n Go.

At lunch Tuesday I entered Sho Sushi and took a seat at the sushi bar. I had most of my usual sushi items: salmon skin cut rolls, spicy tuna cut rolls, salmon sushi and albacore sushi. I'm inexpert at these things but would judge the sushi to be average -- not excellent but not bad.

Sho seems to be known for "all you can eat." I simply ordered my items off the menu and when the bill came, it was "all you can eat," $19.95. Mentally adding up what I'd ordered, it came to slightly more than that, about $23, so I guess it worked to my advantage, barely.

Sho Sushi, by the way, used to be owned by the people who now own King's Teriyaki on East Holt in Pomona, where I wrote about getting napkins imprinted with the Sho Sushi logo.

Thursday, figuring I'd polish off the strip center, I had lunch at Route 66 Subs. (I've been to a Green Burrito before and that's good enough for my little restaurant survey.)

The interior has a black-and-white motif with Route 66 and car-related decor. I got the Maserati, which is an Italian Trio sub (ham, mortadella and capicolla, I believe), 8-inch size, plus macaroni salad and a Coke, for $9.42. The sub was fine and filling, the salad pleasingly peppery.

They gave me a sub card -- a free sub on your eighth visit -- and you can sign up for e-mail coupons that will also net you a free meal on your birthday.

I'm not a sub guy, and when I am I go to Grinder Haven, but this was a nice little place. On my way out, after almost an hour of eating and reading, the guy behind the counter, who had taken my name with my order, called out, "'Bye, David." So he gets points for trying, and maybe I will go back sometime.

Where are the 24-hour restaurants of the Inland Valley? Most seem to be in Pomona.

Leaving aside Coco's, Denny's and their corporate cousins, here are the places I know about in Pomona:

* La Fuente, 987 S. Garey Ave. at 10th Street.

* Grandma's Donuts, East Mission Boulevard just east of Garey (can't find them online or in phone book).

* The Jelly Donut, 2097 N. Towne Ave. (A sign says it's "Open 24/24." Someone tell Jack Bauer!)

* Golden Wok, 1725 N. Garey Ave.

* Taqueria de Anda, 1690 S. Garey at Franklin.

So Pomona has a lot of night owls. What about the rest of the valley?

* Rancho Cucamonga has Corky's Kitchen and Bakery, 6403 N. Haven Ave. just above the 210. Apparently they do good business in the middle of the night. The fresh-baked pie is awesome.

* Ontario has Fork in the Road, 4265 E. Guasti Road, at the Travel Centers of America West truck stop. The food is surprisingly good. Fork was featured in a segment of the Food Network's "Road Food" in 2006.

Surely there are more 24-hour joints, especially in Ontario. Anyone want to fill in the blanks, or tell stories about 24-hour dining?

I bought two plastic shower curtains on Sunday, one to use in the obvious place, the second to protect the non-tile, painted wall within the shower. Yes, I'm a thoughtful tenant, one willing to shower within a cocoon to preserve my owners' investment.

Side thought: Does anyone ever pay full price at Bed Bath and Beyond? Those blue and white 20 percent off coupons seem to arrive in my mailbox almost weekly. They're so ubiquitous, they even popped up on a cluttered desk in "Kill Bill Volume 1."

(Alternate names I've heard for the chain: Bad Breath and Beyond, or Birdbath and Beyond.)

In any event, replacing my curtains meant perching on the edge of the tub and unhooking a couple of dozen rings, gathering up the old curtains and tossing them, then resuming my perch, punching through the holes in the curtains and hooking them up to all those rings. Pop pop pop pop. Tedious work, but it's nice to have my mildewed old curtains gone.

The problem now is that my bathroom, and in fact half my house, now smells like fresh plastic. I love the smells of napalm and plastic in the morning.

Heading south on Central Avenue from Foothill Boulevard on Sunday, I noticed that the late Mi Pueblo restaurant in Upland was half-demolished.

I'll admit upfront that I know absolutely nothing about Mi Pueblo. It's been closed for months, if not years, with a chain-link fence around the property. It's a large-sized, low-slung building on the east side of Central and may once have been popular. It's at 11th Street and Central.

I'll try to follow up with City Hall to see what's planned there. In the interim, anyone know anything about the place?

Well, it's a holiday for some of you, but not for yours truly. No rest for the wicked, as they say.

Speaking of the wicked, today is when we honor U.S. presidents. I have to say, being born in 1964, none of the presidents in my lifetime have been more than intermittently inspiring. Growing up I was an Abe Lincoln partisan, and as an adult I'll stick with him as my favorite.

On the other hand, the best song I know about a president is "James K. Polk" by They Might Be Giants, a historically accurate paean to the 11th president, and they make him out to be quite a fellow:

"In four short years he met his every goal/He seized the whole southwest from Mexico/Made sure the tariffs fell/And made the English sell/The Oregon Territory/He built an independent treasury/Having done all this he sought no second term."

Who's your favorite prez?

[Now it's time for the F-bomb. So to speak.

This column was originally published Aug. 22, 2004.]

Mon dieu! Pomona's F is for ... French Food? Oui.

Today "Pomona A to Z" flashes forward to the letter F. Which fun, fabulous facet of Pomona should be featured?

* F could focus on Fairgrounds, where the county fair last year funneled 1.3 million folks to Pomona.

* Fox Theater, a 1,700-seat Art Deco jewel built in 1931 whose 81-foot tower is a downtown landmark.

* Fish tacos at El Taco Nazo, which practically constitute their own food group for downtown clubgoers.

* Frantz Cleaners, with a nifty neon sign, drive-thru service and the motto "In By 10, Out By 4," here since 1951.

* Friar Tuck's, the valley's only bar in the shape of an English castle. It was built in 1968 as Magic Tower Burgers.

Fantastic!

But because my philosophy with this series is to avoid the obvious where possible, that scratches the Fox and the Fairgrounds, which get plenty of ink.

So let me throw you a curve: F is for French Food!

For Pomona is home to not one, but two restaurants serving French cuisine: Brasserie Astuce and 2nd Street Bistro. Impressive, n'est-ce-pas?

They're surviving despite Pomona's love of Mexican food and the usual fast-food suspects.

Not that it's easy.

"You talk to customers and they're afraid to come in because it's French," said Brasserie Astuce co-owner Leo Coulourides, a good-humored man with 25 years in food service.

His brasserie shouldn't be intimidating. It's on busy Foothill Boulevard, next door to Route 66 Classic Burgers and across the street from a Burger King.

In other words, not exactly the Champs Elysees.

"We serve the basic four food groups like everyone else," Coulourides told me. "We've got chicken, beef -- it's just a few different herbs and flavors."

Speaking of different flavors, Coulourides is of Greek descent, his wife, Christina, is German and chef Miguel Mercado is Mexican. Vive le difference!

Their menu is regional French and the restaurant aspires to be casual, at least by French standards.

While Brasserie Astuce isn't snooty, you can order escargot, the ultimate French dish.

So, in an undercover visit, I did.

An appetizer, the snails arrived on a bed of garlic mashed potatoes. My colleague Jennifer Cho Salaff, the most adventurous diner I know, was there to talk me through it.

Dark brown, curled up, escargot looked a lot like mushrooms and had a similar taste. One or two chews of the slightly rubbery pieces and down they went.

"Are you thinking about the fact that they're snails?" Jennifer asked conspiratorially.

Until she brought it up, no. (Urp.)

Meanwhile, you can get escargot in the shell with butter at 2nd Street Bistro in the downtown Arts Colony -- but I haven't.

Housed in an 1891 storefront, the bistro opened in May and quickly became a bustling lunch spot, no snail's pace about it.

Owner Alain Girard started Harvard Square Cafe and Viva Madrid, both in Claremont, and Caffe Allegro in La Verne.

Girard told me he'd always wanted to open a restaurant in downtown Pomona. That crazy dreamer.

"Pomona, it's different from Claremont," Girard admitted. "But I think there is potential here. There is definitely room for a good restaurant, which I think we've achieved here."

Girard seems as French as they come. A beefy man with a mop of shoulder-length hair, he looks like Gerard Depardieu and speaks in a strong Gallic accent.

Yet he once ran a chain of fish and chips shops in Scotland and was formerly married to an Italian. He's not running a traditional French restaurant either. Three-fourths of the menu is Italian.

"If I went totally French, I would have scared everyone," Girard confided.

French items include quiche Lorraine, goat cheese salad, mussels and French onion soup ("of course," Girard said).

Needless to say, while the Arts Colony has a Frenchier ambience than all-American Route 66, the funky, punky arts district isn't the Left Bank.

"I'm sure that can be discouraging for people to come and eat," Girard allowed, "but that's part of downtown Pomona life, you know?"

True. His bistro co-exists happily with its neighbor to the west, an edgy store named Monkeys to Go.

Hmm.

With a French neighbor, shouldn't that be Surrender Monkeys to Go?

(David Allen writes Sunday, Wednesday and Friday, more monkeyshines.)

This week's restaurant: Salad Farm, 9090 Milliken Ave., Rancho Cucamonga.

Salad Farm opened recently in the small center on Milliken at Seventh Street that also houses Gandolfo's, a NY-themed deli (already visited). The 'Farm is part of a very small L.A.-based chain that appears to have just five locations thus far.

You order at the counter and they make your salad right then and there for you. The menu shows 28 salads, from $5.95 to $8.50, plus panini sandwiches, baked potatoes, soup and quesadillas. A helpful photo menu depicts virtually every item.

I had the Greek salad with chicken ($8.45), and it wasn't bad. It was also enormous and I don't know who could finish it. It came with two pieces of pita bread.

It's a similar concept to So Fresh Salads and More in the Claremont Village Expansion (also visited before), and perhaps slightly better -- at least at Salad Farm I didn't have to wait, I got what I ordered and the amount of dressing was reasonable.

The Onion, of course, is the hilarious website and newspaper that presents fake news. Lark News is a fake-news website for Christians that is at least amusing.

Courtesy of my ex-colleague Jason Newell, here's a Lark News story about churches sanctifying iPods that has a Montclair angle, even if it's, y'know, not real. An excerpt:

"Several churches nationwide are using iPod-related rituals to get kids' attention. One church in Montclair, Calif., hosts regular playlist burnings, where kids set fire to a list of songs they promise to delete from their iPods.

" 'It gets quite emotional,' says youth pastor Ronny DeLane who founded the 'God on the 'Pod' services at Evangelical Free church. 'The kids lay their iPods on the altar and dedicate them to God. Then they set fire to a CD or list of songs in a metal bowl and promise to delete them from iTunes when they get home. There's a lot of crying.'"

I'm sure there is.

Driving Imperial Highway in Brea on Sunday -- and thinking of Randy Newman's "I Love L.A.," with its line "Rollin' down Imperial Highway" -- I stopped for gas at a 76 station. When I went to clean my windows, I found the squeegee had a handle 3 feet long.

I'd never seen one like it, but it was darn handy. I could wash my windshield without stretching halfway across my hood. The long handle may be a response to today's oversized vehicles but for my little Corolla, it worked wonders.

Anyone else ever see one of these?

Steve Gerber is my all-time favorite comic book writer, maybe even moreso than Stan Lee. Gerber is best known for his absurdist, psychologically acute writing for Marvel in the 1970s, where he warped many a mind, including mine, with Howard the Duck, Man-Thing, The Defenders, Omega the Unknown and many other series.

I was 10 years old when I discovered his work, at the same time I discovered comics, and while I didn't get every nuance, I was a sophisticated reader and knew Gerber's stuff was different, wacky and exciting. Time has only deepened my opinion of his writing.

He was rarely allowed to write the major comics characters, which was too bad -- he'd have been a great Spider-Man writer -- but his work on fringe characters, often of his own creation, gave him the freedom to experiment.

Howard the Duck, his best-known character, was the Sandman of its day, garnering media attention and becoming the first Marvel character to get his own movie. Unfortunately, the result was awful in a legendary way, but that shouldn't reflect on Gerber, who had nothing to do with it.

He wrote sporadically for comics after the 1970s, most recently a Dr. Fate series for DC, in which his knack for wild concepts remains intact.

Well, Gerber died Sunday. If anybody reading this likes comics, or just wants to know more about him, here are links to obits and remembrances about him: one at the New York Times, one at the L.A. Times, one at Newsarama, one at Mark Evanier's site, one at Gerber's own blog and one at Wikipedia. And here's an appreciation by Heidi MacDonald.

If you want to read Gerber at his best, go to Borders or Amazon or your local comics shop and look for Essential Man-Thing, Essential Defenders Vol. 2 or Essential Howard the Duck, not to mention recent issues of Countdown to Mystery, which contains his ongoing Dr. Fate series.

A story titled "The Kid's Night Out" published in Man-Thing (nominally a horror comic about a swamp creature) is one of the most moving comics stories ever published, a tale about a bully, a sensitive kid and the dark side of high school. And The Defenders, in which a superhero team fought such menaces as an angry fawn with the mind of an evil magician, a pop psychologist-led cult who all wore Bozo masks and a woman named Ruby Thursday whose head was replaced by a red globe, is almost Dada in its brilliance.

For you cognoscenti, he was Grant Morrison before there was Grant Morrison, Alan Moore before there was Alan Moore. Comics are at last being taken seriously as culture, entertainment and literature. Steve Gerber, who brought an artistic sensibility to comics 30 years ago, was ahead of his time.

It was Sept. 12, 2007 -- six months ago today* -- that I launched this blog. How time flies when you're posting daily. Also, having fun.

Blogging, admittedly, has been more work than expected, in part because I didn't intend to post seven days a week. Once I started, though, I kept up the pace.

Many days I wondered what I would post the next day -- usually I write these posts a day or more in advance, timed to pop up around 5 a.m., so there's something here first thing in the morning for you -- and yet even when I'm stuck, something always suggests itself. In that way it's been a good writing exercise for me.

This blog has proved to be a good outlet for sharing reader mail, occasional stray thoughts, cultural notes, nostalgia and accounts of my dining adventures. I think of it as "my column, only moreso." Half the fun is your comments, so thanks to all for your contributions.

My column remains my main thing, of course, with the blog being a sort of adjunct. (Readership here is a tiny fraction of print readership, albeit growing.) And yet it's taken on something of a life of its own, and that's awesome.

At this half-year point, any general feedback on this blog's usefulness or focus would be appreciated. Anything different you'd like to see here? Posting my columns here is one idea that's been suggested, although I've been reluctant to do that, thinking it seems redundant.

* As reader Randy Volm points out below, from mid-September to mid-February is really only five months. I mistakenly counted the months themselves, which add up to six, but he's absolutely right. Since I already hung the streamers and paid for the band, can we celebrate five months? Thanks.

Guasti as we knew it, a rural enclave, is essentially gone, for good or bad.

Because of construction, the Post Office has moved, Saffron Cafe has closed, Filippi Winery closed its tasting room, the Guasti/Homestyle Cafe moved to Chino, the patio furniture places are gone and the school has been bulldozed.

Construction is under way on a mixed-use complex that seems intriguing, if very different than the hodgepodge that was there.

Months ago I spoke to Jim Maples, a former advertising rep at the Bulletin, about Evel Knievel's jump at Ontario Motor Speedway. He also lamented the changes then beginning to happen at Guasti:

"I got to California in 1957 and one of the first things I did was go to wine-tasting at Guasti. That's when all those little houses had inhabitants," Maples told me.

He said a wine festival was sponsored circa 1958-1962 by the Secondo Church. You could buy a bottle of wine, fill up a bota bag with it and walk around, sipping as you went.

So there's a topic. Anyone want to share memories of what Guasti used to be like and what you did there?

[Back to "Pomona A to Z." Coming up with a good "E" column wasn't, you know, easy. Not much is known about the Edison historical district, my first choice. I can't remember why I didn't write about the Ebell Club.

This column originally appeared Aug. 15, 2004.]

A little horse sense offered in 'Pomona A to Z'

Extra! Extra! Read all about it! Letter E featured in "Pomona A to Z"!

If you came in late, each week we're examining another essential element of that endearing, eclectic entity known as Pomona, and doing so in alphabetical order.

As we eagerly embark on E, what are the possible entries?

* The Ebell Club, whose stately headquarters has been a visual tonic for passersby since 1922.

* Eldridge Cleaver, the former Black Panther who spent his final years in Pomona.

* Edison Historic District, comprising 637, 611 and the 500 block of West Second Street, all on the National Register of Historic Places.

* Espiau's, a fruit stand on Holt in the 1930s that sold "all the orange juice you can drink for a dime," and later became a popular coffee shop, now located in Claremont.

* Emerger, a gallery in the Arts Colony that, because people can't pronounce its name (e-mur-zhay), is familiarly known as the e gallery.

Exemplary examples, all. But our E is entirely different.

E is for Equine Education!

It's not that horses are getting degrees, like a bachelor of oats. But at Cal Poly Pomona, students are learning about horses at the university's Equine Research Center, and so is the faculty.

In fact, Pomona and UC Davis have the only facilities in California devoted to the study of horses. Well, aside from the grandstand at Santa Anita.

Pomona's Equine Research Center plays with ponies more scientifically: They're put on treadmills.

"For us it provides a platform for very controlled studies," said Steve Wickler, the center's director and an animal sciences professor. "They take amazingly well to it."

To prove it, he and his assistant, Holly Greene, put a thoroughbred on the treadmill for me.

Horses, incidentally, are responsible for Cal Poly Pomona's existence.

Cornflake magnate W.K. Kellogg established a ranch for his beloved Arabian horses on what is now the Cal Poly campus. He deeded the property to the state in 1932 with the stipulation that Arabian breeding and horse shows continue -- and to ensure Cal Poly's continued life, they do. Call (909) 869-2224 for details.

But back to the barn.

This day's test subject was Anakin, a 7-year-old named after the "Star Wars" character. He was a washout as a racehorse, but his gentle nature makes him a winner at Cal Poly.

Like any gym rat, Anakin was decked out in sporty fashion, colorful wraps wound around his two front legs. At least he wasn't in culottes.

A student started the treadmill and Anakin walked, transitioning into a trot as the speed increased.

"If you listen you hear two sounds," Wickler explained. Two limbs, right front and left rear, hit the treadmill diagonally, then the other two. It's an efficient gait, but not comfortable for a rider, as the horse's back rises and falls.

When the speed increased, Anakin broke into a canter, which is more of a rocking motion. Two feet were on the mat at any time. The other two touched the mat at different moments.

Then the incline feature was activated, so that Anakin was cantering at a 10 percent grade, as if running uphill.

"It increases the intensity two and a half times," Wickler said.

Feel that burn!

Exercise over, Anakin ate from a bucket of horse feed -- the power bar of the equine world -- and was led off to cool down. He didn't act winded, but Wickler pointed to Anakin's right rear leg. The horse's blood vessels stood out from exertion.

At the research center, veterinary and animal sciences students learn horse handling -- many have never been around horses -- and about horse anatomy and treatment.

Meanwhile, Wickler and Greene study how horses move and how they function at high altitude. Sometimes white markers are placed on the horse, similar to a human stress test, to calculate the amount of force on each limb.

It's a little trickier than working with people.

"With humans, you can say, 'Is this comfortable? Is this too much?' With horses, it's tough to ask them that," Wickler joked. "So we measure their metabolism."

Anakin was taking my own measure, sniffing my elbow as I took notes. It was a shame I couldn't interview him.

That way I could have learned about equine education straight from the horse's mouth.

(David Allen writes Sunday, Wednesday and Friday, feeling his oats.)

This week's restaurants: El Perico Ranchero, 1401 E. Foothill Blvd. (at Grove), Upland, and El Cerrito, 7201 Archibald Ave. (at Base Line), Rancho Cucamonga.

Yes, we're riding the El this week and we're nowhere near Chicago. El Perico Ranchero was pointed out to me by one of you readers recently when I wrote about Mexican restaurants in Upland. I'd overlooked it. So I rectified that omission by dining there for lunch on Tuesday.

It's mid-range Mexican with table service and some seafood on the menu. I had the chile verde ($9.95). The plate itself was hot, which always makes me suspicious that the plate is prepared in advance and stuck in the oven. The chile verde, though, was very good. And there was a lot of it. I don't know who can eat all that; I could barely finish half. I took the rest home and got a snack out of half of it Wednesday night. I had the other quarter Friday night. That's a lunch that keeps on giving.

On Thursday I hit El Cerrito after a visit to 4-Color Fantasies, the comic shop across the street. Entering El Cerrito was disconcerting because it looks like half a restaurant. All there was to see was a long, narrow space with booths along each wall. No employees or even kitchen in sight. I sat myself and saw the kitchen is tucked away through a doorway on the left. The lone employee I saw during the meal was pretty busy.

I had three soft tacos with chicken, beef and steak ($2.25 each). They were big too and loaded with cheese. I should have asked if they were Mexican style (small) or American style (big). Oh well. They were fine for what they were. The menu was fairly extensive, just like El Perico's, but I wasn't in an ambitious mood, so this is a feebler than usual account, sorry.

Maybe next week, instead of eating at another El place, I can do the opposite: a Le place.

Tying in with today's column, here's the clip from YouTube of the "Late Late Show" host in Pomona...even if he thinks it's San Bernardino. Here's Ferguson reciting the Pledge in Pomona.

Here he is taking the citizenship test, in L.A. by the looks of it, and here's his take on why he loves America.

After deadline for my column, the Kristin Bell clip turned up on YouTube as well. The "circus grounds" comment comes up after the 9-minute mark.

This was posted recently on the "things that aren't here anymore" thread, but let's give it its own blog entry. Take it away, Judi Guizado:

"I was telling my mom, Jeanette (Acuna) Holsten, about this thread, and she was wondering if anyone remembers one of the first drive-in restaurants in the '40s called Mona's Drive-In, on Holt near Campus in Ontario. Two of her aunts worked there as car hops, wearing short skirts and serving food wearing roller skates. She remembers it was owned by a man named Price Barrett."

Leaving aside the visual of "food wearing roller skates" -- sorry, Judi, I couldn't resist -- we may as well talk about drive-in restaurants.

I hadn't heard of Mona's, but I've written about McDonald's BBQ, a drive-in in Ontario on Holt at San Antonio in the 1940s. It was no relation to the McDonald brothers' operation in San Bernardino. Then there was Mel's at Holt and Palomares in Pomona, which opened in 1952, closed in 1995 and sold burgers initially for 18 cents. And let's not forget A&W on Holt near Mountain in Ontario, which closed in 2006.

Anyone want to share memories of any of these places, or others?

You may recall that my New Year's goal was to read "Moby-Dick."

Well, at the one-month point, a progress report: I'm at page 248, out of 577, or Chapter 54 of 135. At this rate I'll finish by the end of March, which isn't bad; I initially thought it could take me to the end of April.

Did you know Barack Obama cites "Moby-Dick," and also "Beloved," as his favorite books? When I read that, I suddenly became an Obama fan.

"Moby-Dick" is an amazing book -- there's a reason classics are classics -- although it's not what you would call a quick read, owing to long sentences filled with semi-colons that sometimes require a second or third reading to decipher. Some of the language is jaw-droppingly lyrical, though. My schedule is such that it's rare I can find even a half-hour a day to read it, further limiting my progress.

Still, I've managed to read a little bit every single day since Jan. 1, usually six or eight pages. It's not much individually, but nibbling at it daily does make a difference.

Call me Incrementalist.

Fat Tuesday, the end of Mardi Gras, is today, and reader/foodie Charles Bentley has a question:

"I was wondering if you have any suggestions for local eateries to enjoy some Mardi Gras cuisine?

"But if you know someplace local – especially a good spot that makes good crawfish etouffee – I would dearly love to know about it. Plus points if they have nice beignets like at the Café du Monde!"

Crescent City Cafe was the restaurant by Montclair Plaza that had to relocate to make way for a Chili's but ultimately couldn't survive in its Ontario location as New Orleans Express.

With them gone, the best I could come up with was Kelly's Cajun Grill in the Ontario Mills food court. The Inland Valley surely must have a soul food restaurant or two, but I'm unaware of them.

Anyone have any suggestions?

A mid-week exchange at Trader Joe's in Upland:

Male clerk, making banter: You gonna watch the Super Bowl?

Me: No.

Clerk: Why not? Everybody watches the Super Bowl.

Me: That's why I don't watch it.

This was, I think, Super Bowl 42, if my Roman numeral skills haven't left me, and at this point I have a streak going, not having seen any of them. Not to be a snob about it; I understand the value and comfort and fun of American communal experiences, and I wouldn't say the Academy Awards, which I sometimes tune in for, are any less ridiculous.

That said, I resist the Super Bowl hype and generally enjoy an afternoon in which the streets and shops are semi-depopulated. Because of the weather, a trip to Pasadena or somesuch was less appealing this year. I considered eating lunch at Ontario's Super Bowl Thai just for the joke of it; for that matter, I could have ordered joke, which is the name of a porridge, but as ironies go, that's awfully reductive.

Instead, I had a late lunch out in Pomona in a mostly empty restaurant and bought groceries in Claremont with only one person ahead of me in line. Noticed that 21 Choices frozen yogurt, which usually has a line out the door, appeared empty, but I wasn't in the mood for something cold. Went to a coffeehouse and read a novel in relative peace.

If you didn't watch the Super Bowl, what did you do Sunday?

Today's print column is about watching the Top 100 U.S. movies as chosen by the American Film Institute in 1998. The list was revised in mid-2007, but by that point I just stuck to the original list. I'll get to the "new" movies on the revised list sometime.

As promised, here are links to see the two Top 100 lists. From there you can get to the AFI's plethora of other lists. You can visit the AFI and see the lists there, although you have to register.

For the sake of comparison, here are two other best-American-movie lists: a Chicago critic's Alternative Top 100 and GreatestFilms.Org's Top 100.

And, to broaden the base beyond American movies, here are the National Film Critics Essential 100 and the British Film Institute's Top 100.

Happy reading, and happy viewing.

To me, a car is simply transportation, while for others, it's a religion, or a status symbol. Despite driving a Toyota Corolla, I really do like the NHRA Museum at Fairplex. You can't help but be impressed by the shiny old cars on display indoors, and the obvious affection for the sport of drag racing evinced in the displays. It has that cool '50s-'60s vibe.

This column was published Aug. 8, 2004.

D is for Drags: 'Pomona A to Z' gets up to speed

It's D day as "Pomona A to Z," my alphabetical survey of the city's delights, dotes on the letter D.

Which delights should we dwell on? Among the dazzlers:

* Diamond Ranch High, the hillside school whose design, by rising architect Thom Mayne, has been written up in the New York Times.

* Donahoo's, the popular take-out chicken restaurant with the fiberglass rooster on the roof.

* Dedication of Disaster City, the civil defense bunker under the Police Department whose opening in 1964 was presided over by -- whoa! -- nuclear physicist Edward Teller.

* Desi Arnaz, who performed at the Fox Theatre in 1947 with Lucille Ball.

What a dilemma! But after some dithering, my decision is that D is for Drags, as in Drag Racing.

Pomona didn't invent drag racing -- I think that was Ben-Hur -- but the two go together like peanut butter and jelly.

The reason will rock you. Hot rodding became (gasp) respectable in large part because of the Pomona Police Department, specifically, car-loving Police Chief Ralph Parker and a young motorcycle sergeant named Bud Coons.

By 1950, hot rodders who had been racing in dry lake beds were taking it to the streets instead: peeling out, speeding, causing a racket and sometimes killing themselves or others. It was a national problem.

"In the '50s, if you were a hot rodder, it was the same as being in a gang today," Coons, now 80, told me by phone from his home in Lake Havasu City, Ariz.

One night Coons was on patrol when he saw a "real nice" Chevy, similar to one he was working on in his spare time. So he pulled over the driver for a chat.

"He thought I was going to write him up," Coons said. "I was interested in his car."

The motorist was on his way to a meeting of the Pomona Choppers car club and invited Coons, who practically caused a riot when he pulled up in uniform.

Coons explained his interest in cars, as well as his interest in safety, and found a receptive audience.

Soon he was helping to organize rally runs, shows and barbecues for racers. The Choppers were even allowed to meet in a nook of the police station. The co-opting had begun!

With a pitch from Parker, Coons and the Lions Club, the fairgrounds set aside space for a dragstrip in 1951.

Hot rodders had a controlled, legal straightaway. Deaths from speeding fell dramatically, as did complaints, Coons recalled. That prompted a writeup in an FBI bulletin to police departments nationwide about Pomona's approach.

In 1954, Wally Parks, who had just founded the National Hot Rod Association, hired a group of four hot rod enthusiasts to travel the country to promote drag racing and safety.

Among them was Coons, who took a leave of absence from the force to join what was dubbed the Drag Safari.

No, they didn't all wear dresses.

Their Dodge station wagon towed a trailer containing inspection gear and timing devices, everything they needed to run a drag race except white T-shirts and hair gel.

As a police officer, Coons commanded respect from city leaders wherever the Safari stopped. Dragstrips sprouted in their wake. Racing rules were honed.

"Pomona helped legitimize the hot rod movement and drag racing," Coons said.

Pomona also was the site of the first National Hot Rod Association-sanctioned race, in 1953, and today is home to the association's Motorsports Museum, housed in a stylish Art Deco building at Fairplex. For museum info: (909) 622-2133 or nhra.com/museum.

Amateur races still take place quarterly on the original Pomona strip, as do the professional Winternationals, to the delight of fans and consternation of neighbors.

Pomona has the oldest dragstrip in the United States still in use, and its bleachers turned drag racing into a spectator sport, museum director Sam Jackson told me.

The connection is even immortalized in song.

"GTO," the 1964 classic by Ronny and the Daytonas, has the singer expressing his desire to buy a GTO, "take it out to Pomona and let 'em know/that I'm the coolest thing around."

And that's why D is for Drags. Did you doubt it?

(David Allen, the lukewarmest thing around, writes Sunday, Wednesday and Friday.)

Monday I ate at two new-to-me restaurants, Richie's Diner for lunch, Harry's Pacific Grill for dinner, both at Victoria Gardens in Rancho Cucamonga.

I'm familiar with the Richie's in Victorville, an occasional lunch stop when I lived and worked there in the mid-1990s. That one, if memory serves, had a virtually all-white interior and was fairly utilitarian. The food was OK but nothing exciting. The VG one is more a modern take on a diner, outfitted in browns and gray, with comfortable booths and classier touches. It's a little disconcerting to see a wall niche with bottles of wine not far from a lineup of classic bottled sodas and emblems of old-school gas station pumps, but it mostly works.

I ordered the California tuna melt ($8.95) on sourdough with slaw as my side and a Pepsi with vanilla flavoring ($2.19), which came in a metal cup. A tuna melt is my baseline sandwich. This one really was a melt -- sometimes the cheese isn't melted at all -- and was one of the better examples I've had. It came with avocado, probably a treat for most people, but to be honest, I've never really liked avocado. The slaw was good too.

All in all, Richie's beat expectations.

Dinner that night was at Harry's. I've been to Honolulu Harry's, owned by the same chain, but this is virtually nothing like that. It's a more upscale experience, without the tropical gimmickry (which is fun, by the way).

I had the Paniolo skirt steak ($17), which was said to have been marinated 24 hours, with fries; my friend had the Asian Pacific Pescado ($16), which came with baby broccoli, kalamata olives, fresh tomatoes and white wine reduction.

What was Asian or Mexican about the fish's preparation wasn't clear, but it was flavorful and served on a bed of scalloped potatoes. My steak was tender and juicy. Even my fries were good. Harry's atmosphere hit that sweet spot where you feel you're in a nice place but it's not so stiff that you're intimidated.

So, two meals, two winners. If only all days were like this.