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Weekend in LA | DAY 4: (Pt. 2) Curry House CoCo Ichibanya + Flight to Toronto

8/21/2017

 
Read Part 1 HERE !
The original anticipation for Los Angeles’ Koreatown varied not too vastly from that of our own – you know, that tiny stretch between Christie and Bathurst? (Don’t get me wrong, I love it nonetheless.)
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Imagine my surprise at discovering the expansiveness – not to mention grandeur -  of California’s only from the brief trek between Western and Normandie. Regardless of whether I strayed north or south from the major streets, I continued to encounter endless strips of independent shops, restaurants, plazas, and more.​
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​Copious commercial buildings lined Wilshire Blvd, with the most prominent one being that of The Korea Times. The curved buildings loomed above me, leaving me to gaze in awe at the size difference between the lush shrubbery and series of fountains centred between them. 
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​Weather was wonderful and the path free was of society’s outcasts. The only downsides were the steep surges in temperature and lack of cloud cover causing the walk to be more draining than relaxing.
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I debuted a sticky forehead upon finally arriving at the doors of CoCo Curry. 

​Officially referred to as “Curry House CoCo Ichibanya”, the chain of Japanese curry restaurants has locations throughout Asia as well as several in California and Hawaii. The idea of journeying to the spot for lunch had been proposed by yours truly after a memory jog from a grueling hunt for bubble tea in Taipei a few years back.
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While en route, I had called (long distance, mind you) to ensure that there would be seating available for the entire party amidst the lunch peak. The male that answered the phone could have adhered to a more pleasant tone of voice, though the point was that we would not arrive and need to wait for a table.
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Frankly speaking, I could have omitted this step since over half of the restaurant had vacated by the time of our arrival.
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​CoCo Curry’s Koreatown location was a typical casual diner serving up Japanese-style curry plates in a no-frills environment. Cooking fumes were strong, the environment was loud, and laminated menus were placed directly at the table. Choices were plenty, encompassing anything from salads to udon to omurice.
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Spice levels could also be customized to one’s liking: Regular was the mildest option we were offered (though I believe there is in fact a “Mild” on the menu), while Level 10 was the most extreme. Although I don’t believe any member of our party took to adjusting the rice and sauce portions, the menu clearly stated the associated charges (or credits) with each upgrade/downgrade.
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​The plates appeared much too significant for me to consume in one meal, so I pitched the theory of sharing to my favourite fangirl. She rejected this approach, for she was confident in her consumption capabilities.
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View the full album HERE !
In fear of being unable to finish my desired item selection, I almost veered in the direction of the kids’ meals and appetizers. However, my heart spoke loud and clear – Curry Omurice!! – shattering hesitance in all forms.
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 < Pictured above and below: Chicken Cutlet Omelet Curry, Karaage Curry Udon, Stewed Chicken Curry, Chicken Cutlet Omelet Curry w/ Tofu, Cheese Chicken Cutlet Curry, Karaage Curry ​>

​​As the single member in desperate need of vacating the premises in a timely manner, I requested placing my order sooner than the others. The waitress, though, made no attempts to quicken the processing of orders. Respecting the other members of the party is important, but crucial is arriving at the airport in time for a flight. Thankfully, CoCo was swift in its operations. Our table was lined with the comforting fragrance of sweet roux in under ten minutes.
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I salivated at the sight of my Chicken Cutlet Omelet Curry Rice, bathing in its savoury, herby aroma and fluffy omelet casing. It wasn’t long before I succumbed to its beckoning.
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The first few spoonfuls were phenomenal! The combination of delicate egg, warm rice grains, and mild curry sauce was satisfying and absolutely delicious. The curry sauce itself was none too reflective of Japan’s lighter palate, but rather a thicker, more flavourful rendition to suit the tastes of North Americans diners. Chicken katsu pieces decorated the surface of the dish. To my delight, they were crisp without being greasy, and tender without exhibiting signs of dryness.
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 It would have been nice to see additional preparation efforts being put towards the rice. The norm is to serve omurice with ketchup fried rice, though plain rice was ultimately revealed as a more appropriate choice to combat the boldness of the curry sauce.
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In my haste, I hadn’t reviewed the downgrade (rice reduction) details as meticulously as I should have, for I was only able to consume half of the dish before admitting defeat. Others around me found themselves in a similar situation; it was as if the fare had instantly settled into one’s digestive system, bringing about sluggishness and food coma(s). I could have easily saved the remainder for another meal, but transporting perishable foods on a stifling subway then to the airport did not sound too appealing a task.
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​Several visits were paid to the bathroom during this occasion, each proving worse than the previous. Firstly, the door to each gender-separated stall was locked. Keys could only be obtained at the reception area should a member of staff be available to find it. Along the perimeter of the ladies’ stall was the thickest layer of dust bunnies in existence – more compact that the layers of soy curds found within firm tofu. The toilet handle had detached completely from the apparatus and could only operate by forceful rotation. Two paper towel dispensers were located on either side of the sink and mirror, though its levers were partially dysfunctional. Unpleasant odours escaped the garbage bin, and more dust surrounded the sink and its dispenser of commercial pink soap.
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Truth be told: CoCo’s bathroom was only a smidgen more favourable than the 7 Eleven at Donlands and O’Connor. And that’s saying quite a bit.
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I relinquished my fifteen dollars and zoomed back to Downtown LA in hopes of capturing a few more shots.
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A nearby bakery by the name of 85 Degrees had caught my attention for its close proximity to my place of residence. With a little under fifteen minutes to spare, I detoured to its sleek storefront, only to find a weaving lineup forming inside the premises. Mondays were apparently discount coffee days.
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​A friendly man opened the door for me, but upon seeing the endless lineup, I thanked him and bid him good day.
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​My Super Shuttle had been booked in advance for 5 PM. The online confirmation noted an approximate arrival window of fifteen minutes, so I grabbed my belongings and took a seat amidst the humidity in anticipation of this ride.
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 After much prying, she answered that “Your driver is about a mile away.”.
In all honesty, this meant next to nothing to me as one who seldom uses metric units. Upon requesting additional clarification though, she simply spat, “I don’t know how long that is. It could be five minutes. It could be longer. I don’t know the traffic intersections in that area….” As she trailed off, I could not believe the level of common sense and degree of severe inefficiency I was hearing over the phone.
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With a dying phone battery, I continued to wait. Editing time had been lost. Stress levels had reached new heights. Anxiety was as prominent as ever.
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At 5:40 PM, an automated call was received. The recording notified me that my driver would be arriving in approximately eight minutes, and that I should be ready to leave as to not hinder other passengers. Well I’ll be. I truly wonder who was the real hindrance in this equation.

At 6:00 PM, exactly ONE WHOLE HOUR after my specified pickup time, the Super Shuttle pulled in. The driver, a jolly old man, waddled from the seat and heaved my luggage in the back.

At 6:05 PM, we were finally headed in the direction of departure.
It wasn’t long before we hit the infamous LA congestion, but fortunately there was minimal volume on the highway.
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At 7:00 PM, the other passengers on the shuttle had disembarked, leaving me to roll my baggage into the Air Canada with no assistance.
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​For a self-proclaimed “airport shuttle”, Super Shuttle’s ridiculous delay was wholly unacceptable. Their lax attitude certainly did not go unnoticed either (no pun intended).
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​Security procedures were quicker than when departing Toronto, so I managed to salvage a solid hour for souvenir browsing and sustenance acquisition before rushing to the boarding gates.
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​As expected, the flight was delayed, with the excuse being that the aircraft had yet to be cleaned. When we finally boarded, it was observed that the ancient aircraft hadn’t been cleaned at all. The washrooms reeked and the garbage bins were overflowing with nastiness.
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​A red-eye flight meant unanimous snoring in all parts of the aircraft, so I suppose the status of the facilities mattered the least in this particular flying instance. For our overall wellbeing though, they could have lowered the A/C several notches.
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The flight attendants were at least reasonable this time around.
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Man, it’s good to be back.​

Curry House Coco Ichibanya Menu, Reviews, Photos, Location and Info - Zomato

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    Formerly an avid owner of several interest-based portals, Random Thoughts of a Quirky Blogger presents precisely the elements expected. From experiments in the kitchen to miscellaneous musings, from IGOT7 reflections to developments in transportation infrastructure, it's all consolidated here. Welcome to the raw, unfiltered side of Quirky Aesthetics.



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WHAT DOES "QUIRKY AESTHETICS" MEAN?

Quirky =  a term that commonly refers to something/someone distinctly different and unique
Aesthetics = the visual aspect of things



Together, Quirky Aesthetics refers to the things, events, and happenings seen and perceived by this blog's creator - quirky perspectives in a visual form.

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