Six kitchen chats with some of Long Beach’s finest

When it comes to food, some say we live in a forgotten corner of the county map, a void of a place that can’t compete with the upper reaches of LA’s high-end sectors. But we all know otherwise. Here, it’s not just about the upper-crust cuisine—you can find everything from the perfect pancakes and the spiciest salami to the best tortas and the finest pho. So it’s here that we put faces to the food and talk with the chefs and restaurateurs that serve up the best meals around. Some helm spots still in their infancy, others walk dining rooms with the same proud footsteps of parents and families past. For all of them, cooking is a love supreme—a pure passion tied not to the reviews and the ratings, but to the food itself.

PHOTO by ROSHEILA ROBLES

BEN SHEPHERD, CASAVINO
Grounded for the entire summer following his sophomore year in high school, Ben Shepherd served his sentence in the back yard. “I was 17. It’s Lakewood. There’s not a lot to do,” recalls Shepherd, now the head chef at CasaVino wine bar and restaurant in downtown Long Beach. “I had all this time—I’d read Brave New World—and began landscaping—growing tomatoes—and watching food television.”

Did the punishment fit the crime? Shepherd can’t say. (Mom wouldn’t like to see it in print.) But it did start the 28-year-old on a path that has led him from washing dishes (at a Bristol Farms, his first job after graduating from St. John Bosco) to plating—with a few stops at deli and smoothie and cheese counters along the way.

“You don’t have to go to school to get a sense of taste,” says Shepherd, who has never received formal training (though he currently plans to finish a double major in English and Latin Jazz at Cal State LA; he’s a hand percussionist). Instead, during those in-between years—six of them spent vegetarian—Shepherd discovered his “natural ability” for flavors—harnessing, he says, the bitter, sweet and sour components of a dish.

Today, he stands in contrast to the capital-C Chef—your Gordon Ramsays, your Bobby Flays—as something of an anti-chef: no ego, no flash, no cynicism. He is the furthest thing from what Anthony Bourdain once named the principal export of the restaurant industry: assholes.

And so you worry for a moment that this guy is perhaps too nice for food—for much of life, even. But then he starts talking about food: “Peasant food really does it for me,” he begins. Peasant food? “A really really good tomato is best unadorned. Sometimes, being direct [with dishes] is nice.”

From there, Shepherd waxes ecstatically about burritos (“I’ll eat a burrito for breakfast, dinner, dessert. Strawberry, mascarpone, balsamic—in a tortilla!”); his family (“Mom eats chocolate seven days a week. Dad eats fish seven days a week. I was the freaky veggie kid—jazz and Thai food!”); Thai food itself (“It courts excess—the bitter next to the sweet, so vibrant!”); the roles of art and narcissism (“You make sacrifices to focus on your work—you have to shut off your receptors, and that fosters narcissism”); and even breaks into recipes for mac and cheese (with smoked gouda and Tapatio) and pork shoulder (simmered for hours in Arrogant Bastard Ale, achiote, orange juice and chipotle).

Finally, it’s back to CasaVino: “I walked in for a serving job. They said, ‘We need a cook. Can you cook?’ I’m happier in the kitchen than on the floor.”

His favorite nights at the restaurant (which features a small but nicely priced menu of cheese plates, small pizzas and pastas, among larger bites) are when he gets to experiment—tastings and private events (including a recent one featuring a dish with roasted tomato cream sauce and a dollop of basil pesto in the middle—“The colors!”). “My goal is to get the bulk of the menu seasonal,” he adds.

Makes sense, coming from the grounded kid playing with homegrown tomatoes: “You only need to learn once that garlic doesn’t taste good black—and that the basil comes at the end!” // ELLEN GRILEY

CASAVINO 51 S PINE AVE | LONG BEACH 90802 | 562.216.1590 | CASAVINOWINEBAR.COM

PHOTO by ROSHEILA ROBLES

ALI KOBEISSI, OPEN SESAME
Ali Kobeissi got his first taste of Long Beach on the back of a motorcycle. It was nearly two decades ago that he sat speeding down Second Street, cruising through the beach-bound drag, instantly reminded of home—a section of city life packed with the kind of neighborly air he had been looking for ever since he left Lebanon.

Long Beach wasn’t Kobeissi’s first stateside home (it was New York), but he knew it was where he had to be.

And we’re lucky, too, because what Kobeissi brought with him is something the city won’t easily forget: a sharp sense of flavor honed by hard work in a Lebanese spice factory and an even keener passion for cooking; it’s been with him since he was 13.

“The feeling of the knife in your hand, the chance to get to create something—it’s all so amazing,” he says. “I can’t imagine doing anything else.”

It took a while for Kobeissi to secure a space on Second Street and turn that passion into profit, but there’s no question of Open Sesame’s current success. The place is packed at practically any hour—every hour—jammed with eager eaters dipping pita slices through bowls of hummus, finished off with skewered cubes of meat.

Kobeissi points to the restaurant’s success as stemming from Long Beach’s people, climate and restaurant scene—Frenchy’s is one of his favorites, Café Piccolo, too. But that doesn’t mean he won’t try branching out: A second Open Sesame is set to open in Pasadena in a few months.

Still, just talking about this is humbling for Kobeissi—a constant reminder, he says, that this really is the land of opportunity. When I ask him what dish he’s proudest of, he leans back and gives an easy answer: the spicy hummus.

Spicy hummus, he explains, is something of an unknown in Lebanon; that kind of spice is something more unique to America and its ability to assimilate all sorts of cultures and flavors. As it happens, not long after he added the dish to the menu, Kobeissi took a trip back to Lebanon and found that spicy hummus had made its way over to his former home.

“It’s so uncommon there that I just knew someone, somewhere had to have eaten at or at least heard of the restaurant,” he says. “And something like that really puts a smile on your face.” // MILES CLEMENTS

OPEN SESAME 5215 E SECOND ST | LONG BEACH 90803 | 562.621.1698 | OPENSESAMEGRILL.COM

PHOTO by ROSHEILA ROBLES

ANTE PERKOV, ANTE’S
It’s noon on a Tuesday at Ante’s Restaurant, and Ante “Tony” Perkov is stuck in the dining room. He seems to know everyone here, and try as they might to drag him back to the cavernous kitchen, his feet inevitably dance him back out to a booth or a table where an old friend or acquaintance eats lunch. That’s okay; this is his place.

And this week marks the 50th year in the restaurant business for Perkov, who has become the face of his father’s Croatian restaurant—a San Pedro institution—since the elder Ante Perkov’s death in 2001. (A proclamation from state Senator Alan Lowenthal recognizing Ante Perkov’s long life and contributions hangs in the lobby, with many other certificates of recognition.)

That Ante’s survives, 60-plus years after its humble beginnings as a Beacon Street cafe in 1945, says much about its owners—but the food says more.

Had Croatian food before? Well, you’ve never had it like this: soft, homemade apple strudel flanked by lines of hand-whipped cream; grilled cevapi—little sausages formed of ground beef, pork and lamb; and rough, hearty mashed potatoes elevated to main course strength with flakes of black pepper, garlic and bits of chopped onion.

Culinarily, Croatia has the advantage of being one country away from Austria—and across the Mediterranean Sea from Italy—so Ante’s serves tangy, delicately flavored sauerkraut, and tender pot roast served over mostaccioli, the southern Italian penne pasta.

“It’s a melting pot,” Perkov says. “That’s why all the fighting—it didn’t melt too well.” Except perhaps in your mouth. Between them, Perkov and his late father have been in the restaurant business more than 100 years, an apprenticeship evident in what they serve.

The elder Perkov was actually born in Tribunj, a village of 1,100 on the island of Dalmacia—but he entered the food business at age 12, when his mother shipped him off to work in the galley of a cargo ship.

Sounds like a movie—1943’s Action in the North Atlantic, maybe, with Mickey Rooney or Eddie Bracken as Ante—but 17-year-old Ante jumped ship in 1941 at South Carolina. He made his way across the U.S. to Southern California, where he did a nine-month stint in the immigration jail on Terminal Island—his papers being out of order. And cue the punchline.

“When he was in there, he went to work cooking for the men,” says his son, whose large right hand gives a surprisingly sensitive handshake. Of course! How could he not cook?

And after having cooked on a ship and in a prison, opening Tony’s Cafe in 1945, then opening Ante’s in 1960, then moving it to its current location in 1970 (on what’s now named Ante Perkov Street), must have seemed a little easier.
No one working at Ante’s seems to take for granted what they have here—a gem of a Croatian restaurant.

“We’re so glad you want to try the authentic dishes,” enthuses waitress Helen Wood, before I tell her I’m eating them for work. (If anything, that makes her happier.)

Maybe that enthusiasm is what helps keep Ante’s young and fresh. // THEO DOUGLAS

ANTE’S RESTAURANT 729 ANTE PERKOV WAY | SAN PEDRO 90731 | 310.832.5375

PHOTO by ROSHEILA ROBLES

ANTHONY ZERVAS, BOUCHEES BISTRO
At 27, Anthony Zervas was the youngest head chef ever at Newport’s Accents, inheriting the office from the man who’d pushed the restaurant to a Zagat rating of 28—two points shy of perfect. When he’d started as a part-time second cook—after three months washing dishes at the Newport Hooters, his very first kitchen job in California—he knew it was an opportunity; for the first time, he says, he really saw “what the world had to offer.” And after he became Accents’ head chef two years later—and after he won four consecutive Golden Scepters, the annual award given after stringent considerations by the Southern California Restaurant Writers Association—he gave his notice; he leapt out of the career he’d climbed into and put the restaurant he’d thought about starting for five years into Long Beach’s CityPlace shopping mall, a new neighbor for Wal-Mart and Hometown Buffet.

“I don’t think we’re wrong for being here,” he says. “We get that constantly. But it’s where we chose—in the middle of the city. I hope we can pioneer.”

Since July—with a menu invented two weeks before opening—Zervas’ Bouchees Bistro has lit up Fifth and Long Beach Boulevard with a sign visible all the way to Alamitos and a menu that, he says, is an attempt to bring a Starbucks model to the traditional burger and sandwich shop: “Gourmet casual dining. A step up from normal without being fine dining.” Everything Bouchees serves comes from scratch, he explains—the handmade veggie burgers, tweaked for weeks until Zervas was satisfied with texture and taste; or the homemade ketchup; or even the bread, which Zervas comes in early to make; or the crab cakes, which he always personally prepares. He also handles the books, washes the dishes, even drives out delivery orders if necessary, arriving in full chef’s uniform to deliver a perfect burger in a bag. (“People I know will say something: ‘Ah, well, the boss is delivering!’”)

And they are just about perfect burgers: a dollar or two more than the usual fast-food cow-puddle but enjoyable at a level approaching the philosophical. After six months serving, he can spot when someone is going to walk in by the way they look up at his sign, and he can predict what they’re probably going to order. He calls it the trilogy: the much-loved mini-burgers that are a Bouchees trademark, especially the fresh-ground ahi, crab and bacon-cheeseburger varieties, so appealingly presented that by now Zervas is used to the usual “Ooh, cute!” reaction.

“I’ve cooked a lot of things in my life,” he says. “Fifteen years at different restaurants and a lot of things from abalone to wild boar—but I’ve never had so many compliments as on that bacon-cheeseburger. People who haven’t ever tried it like it right off the bat.”

“I like to wow people, you know?” he continues. “Exceed their expectations. The beauty of it is that everyone loves a burger and a sandwich.” // CHRIS ZIEGLER

BOUCHEES BISTRO 515 LONG BEACH BLVD | LONG BEACH 90802 | 562.951.8222 | BOUCHEES.COM

PHOTO by ROSHEILA ROBLES

LIBETTE MAGALLON, OAXACA MIO
Libette Magallon has just finished taking your order at Oaxaca Mio, which lasted a little while—mostly because food from this southerly coastal state of Mexico has its own distinctive variations on south-of-the-border cuisine, but also because Libette ends up talking you through the process.

She’s explained the tlayudas (akin to a Mexican pizza), the memelas (thick hand-made tortillas), the molotes (deep-fried stuffed corn rolls) and she’s let you sample the six different kinds of mole sauces that are the foundation of most Oaxacan dishes. She’s been very friendly and helpful. And talkative. She laughs when you tell her that.

“Really, it’s a part of my job,” she says, which gets her talking again. “My boyfriend, Manuel Cruz, and I and our friend, Abraham Rivero, are partners. We all met in the restaurant business. My boyfriend and I met at Green Field Churrascaria, the Brazilian restaurant. I was a server and he was a busboy. Now we’re in business together.

“We all have specific responsibilities. Our restaurant was my boyfriend’s vision. It’s his structure and organization. I do the paperwork . . . and, I guess you could say, the talking.”

Libette is laughing again, but she figures that word of mouth is important to a new restaurant, and it might as well start with her. Oaxaca Mio only opened last fall.

“We’re so new that we’re all still working at other places while we get our restaurant going,” she says. “I’m a manager at P.F. Chang’s in Torrance, my boyfriend works at the Gaslamp here in Long Beach and Abraham works at both Sachi and the local P.F. Chang’s. With all our coming and going, we really rely on my boyfriend’s sister—and her boyfriend—to keep the restaurant open every day. Together, we all contribute a little bit of what we need.”

The essence of Oaxaca Mio is its devoted and detailed attention to its regional cuisine, along with the art and traditions that embellish it. Oaxaca is still very much its own place, featuring foods as distinctive as its rugged geography and the many Indian dialects that are still spoken as everyday languages. All of that came naturally for Cruz and Rivero, who come from Oaxaca.

“But it’s been quite a learning experience for me,” says Libette, who was born and raised in Compton, the first-generation daughter of Mexican parents from Michoacan and Guadalajara. “The north and south of Mexico are completely different. But I’ve enjoyed deepening my knowledge and experience, and I think I can be a good bridge between the cultures for our customers, no matter what their heritages.”

Speaking of that, “Libette” is a very distinctive name, and as you begin to mention that you quickly realize you’re not the first person to do so—before you even finish your sentence she has begun drawing in the deep breath it’ll require for her well-worn reply.

“Everybody comments on my first name, and I don’t know why my parents named me ‘Libette,’ especially because my mother has always called me ‘Yvette,’’’ she says, and while you’re wondering whether to ask the obvious follow-up question, she answers that, too. “I don’t know why she calls me ‘Yvette’—it doesn’t make sense—and when I’ve tried to find out—and, believe me, I have tried and tried—she just says that she always wanted to name her daughter ‘Libette,’ but she thinks ‘Yvette’ sounds prettier, and besides that it’s easier to say.” // DAVE WIELENGA

OAXACA MIO 1169 E 10TH ST | LONG BEACH 90813 | 562.599.7212

PHOTO by ROSHEILA ROBLES

LAWRIE BYRNES AND DONNIE LARSON, SHILLELAGH
A lot of people think a lot of things about Shillelagh, but Lawrie Byrnes and Donnie Larson like to keep their excellent restaurant open to interpretation. Still, here’s a couple things Shillelagh is not:

Shillelagh is not an Irish pub. True, the name of the joint is Shillelagh, and yes there are a few wood cudgels on the wall and yes, Shillelagh is located next to and shares a doorway with O’Connell’s bar, but it is not an Irish pub. Irish pubs do not offer the variety—Mexican to Chinese, steaks to grilled pizza, mac and cheese to gnocchi with browned butter and sage—and sophistication of fare found at Shillelagh. No, Shillelagh’s menu is more closely associated with an upscale restaurant. Which reminds me . . .

Shillelagh is not an upscale restaurant. Yes, the food is varied and sophisticated and elicits Yelp.com raves, but more than a few people have read the raves and assumed the place is all white tablecloths.

“Yeah, we can kinda spot those people right away because their faces kinda drop when they first see the place,” Donnie says, referring to Shillelagh’s innards, which are clean, comfortable but definitely not Christy’s. “Of course, by the time they actually eat the food, they get it.”

Byrnes and Larson, who were already operating a successful catering business—Wild Thyme—opened Shillelagh a couple of years ago with the hopes of creating a great neighborhood restaurant, the kind of place that people walk to and sit outside on the funky porch with their dog (they do).

They also planned out a kind of place where a good portion of the menu is created that day, determined by not only what’s fresh at the farmers’ market that day, but what the weather is like (it is cold and overcast when I visit the pair: “I’m thinking comfort food tonight,” Lawrie says. “I’m thinking meatloaf.”) Shillelagh is the kind of place where when you ask the chef, “Lawrie, what would you say is your signature dish?” the chef pinches her face in mock pain and says she really doesn’t want to have one.

“That’s not really what we’re about,” she said. “We want to be the neighborhood restaurant that can do almost anything. That can surprise you and give you your favorites.”

And Shillelagh does. For a restaurant so well known for its steaks, veggie burgers—proclaimed the best by more than a few—and omelets, they also make a smashing grilled pizza and a whole menu full of simple, surprising pleasures.

Lawrie and Donnie live just a block and a half from the place and start their day at the market looking for ingredients. They have this, the catering business and there are plans for a soup kitchen they hope to open soon. They’re kinda into food. So, where do they go when they want to eat out?

“Our friend just opened Pates Fraiches on First and Elm,” Lawrie says. “It’s fresh, organic pasta. Simple, clean food.”
Mostly, though, they spend their time at Shillelagh, where they not only cater to their customers, but their dogs—canine patrons have been seen munching on steaks and vegetarian biscuits.

“We want to be the kind of place that when someone asks, ‘What’s the specials?’ we’ll say ‘Whattaya want?’” Lawrie says. “Hey, if I’ve got it in the fridge, I’ll make it for you.” // STEVE LOWERY

SHILLELAGH 2742 E FOURTH ST | LONG BEACH 90814 | 562.916.3288

Tags: ali kobeissi, ante perkov, ante's, anthony zervas, ben shepherd, bouchees bistro, casavino, chefs, donnie larson, Food, lawrie byrnes, libette magallon, Long Beach, oaxaca mio, open sesame, San Pedro, shillelagh