Most of my friends are of Latin American, Asian or Black ancestry. But multiculturalism is a pain in the kiester, when I drive in front of a meth-crazed cholo, and he threatens to dismember me for obeying the stop sign, ahead. In my highly ethnic neighborhood, walking across a street- anywhere near traffic- can be like navigating an Afghani minefield. Basically, merchants and children are the only ones speaking English. Yet, taxes are allotted for special schools designed to teach it. Recently, a Korean-American interrupted my convenience store purchase, to flash a 100 dollar bill and order the clerk around. I wished we had been in the southern Philippines. There, he’d be unceremoniously slapped to the ground, with the full approval of the police. Yeah, I know that extremes are negative. But this is just one of those cases where the “Middle Way of the Buddha” really sucks. Finally, I don’t flaunt my Russian Jewish ancestry by blaring Klezmer dance music from my car radio. So, I’m aggravated whenever 180 decibels of Mexican pop blare out of the Chevy Tahoe I’m stuck next to, in traffic.
Just when I feel the need for an extended vacation, accompanied by major, central nervous system depressants, I see an alternative. It’s the uplifting, substantive milieu of Downtown-Chinatown. It may be the monthly art walks, with the hippie-throwback, artist types, or the 2nd Street Cigar Shop scene (between Spring and Main Streets). Near the latter are nightly crowds of highly-adorned females and their suave dates, waiting to be let into the Edison, to party down. Having your car parked there is a sign that you’ve made the “hip and cool” grade, but locals find them to be a source of jest when some exit, intoxicated. Still, they are laid back and refined people of many backgrounds. I love the ancient flavor of the herb shops, eateries and shopping malls of Chinatown- it’s a great area in which to buy a gift- a hat, book or porcelain figurine- and homosapiens of every variety are there.
So what makes the difference? Why are my friends from well-defined, ethnic ancestries? It’s about acculturation, stupid!
Twenty-eight year-old Greg Leeha, operator of Liliya’s Restaurant, embodies this phenomenon, remarkably. Liliya’s has the finest-tasting, most healthful and reasonably-priced Asian food I’ve ever sampled. Chinese and Korean cuisine is represented nicely. Vegetables and other ingredients are fresh, prepared to order and blend magnificently. There are no less than six nourishing and savory soups. The Hot and Sour drives me more stark-raving-insane than I am already. Everything, down to the appetizers, is masterfully rendered. Greg’s Pot Stickers are no exception, and his Shrimp Rolls are so delectable, they’re addictive. I have become a connoisseur of Asian, chicken and vegetable dishes, and for me, Liliya’s Kung Pao is the pièce de la resistance.
More importantly, Greg is a personable, quiet individual who takes a proud hand in his business. It is a common site to see him cruising down the Second and Spring Street area, making deliveries in his Cadillac. Greg has a generous spirit, and an irrepressible interest in people. If given the chance, he will ask you questions about the various aspects of your life, especially related to your work. I initially feared that his inquisitiveness arose solely from a desire to acquire me as a customer. Then, realizing that Greg is without ulterior motives, I said to myself: “Idiot! You’re reacting like the paranoiac you’ve been conditioned to be in L.A. Knock it off!” It was at that point that Greg Leeha and I became friends.
Liliya’s small band of employees has Greg’s knack of making you feel extraordinarily at home. Greg’s mother, a very warmhearted woman, always greets you with a smile and hello, and creates a dish so good, you may die in ecstasy.
Greg grasps the necessity of dedication. I asked him if he had any hobbies. “At the moment I don’t,” he responds. “On Sundays, there’s Church, a little hanging out with my girlfriend, and lunch with my parents. In this tough economy, you’ve got to work harder, because once you fall, there’s no getting up- I‘ve never worked this hard in my life.” Up until recently, he also manned another of his family’s many restaurants, in Koreatown. At that point, he toiled a combined, 65 hours a week. One could hardly accuse him of slouching now, putting in 50 hours weekly at Liliya’s.
Despite being “always a salesman” and a part of the business since age 17, Greg’s nose wasn’t always to the grindstone. “I hung around with a lot of the wrong crowd,” he reflects. “You know how it is. When you’re in high school, there’s a lot of peer pressure. After a couple of experiences….you want to focus and get your life on track…”
One of those experiences seems to have been a near-fatal car accident he had had, which put him in a coma for five days.
As a further explanation of the development of his maturity, he says: “I’m getting kind of old, too. I’m not…17 or 21.” (I only wish that I was as “old” as Greg is.)
A significant portion of his generosity may have been instilled by his mother, the Korean part of his parentage. A sincere Christian, she regularly visits the sick in nursing homes, and continues to provide 100’s of meals for the homeless on a regular basis.
Understanding that he may be tiring of his involvement in the eatery, I ask Greg what other plans he may have for the future. “I would like to get into Real Estate. This [the restaurant business] would be something to fall back on.”
Comparing the two restaurants he has had involvement with, leads him to a telling point. “Liliya’s is a change, where for the first time, customers are not Korean, but mostly American. Here, you have to learn to adapt to different standards of customer service.”
On deliveries for his Los Angeles Pizza Company, 39 year-old Oscar Arce echoes Greg’s sentiments, without ever having met him. “This country was founded on customer service,” he claims. “A lot of people have forgotten about that.”
As far as quality and pricing, Oscar has the same standards for pizza and pasta as Greg has for Bulgogi and brown rice renditions. He is also the driving force behind his enterprise. His mother, like Greg’s, is a beautiful and endearing person, who is integral to the operation of the business.
But Oscar Arce is as different from Greg Leeha in temperament as crushed red pepper is to Kimchi. One facet of that is his boundless sense of humor. A little before Thanksgiving, he reminisces: “Around this time of year, KCET used to run a Marx Brothers film festival. My two cousins and I would imitate the Marx Brothers, jumping around on the furniture and everything. Can you imagine three El Salvadoran kids trying to be the Marx Brothers? That’s ridiculous!”
Between pizza duties, Oscar will sometimes sing a few bars from his voluminous repertoire of Broadway show tunes, or tap dance. In fact, he surprised me by mentioning that he possesses a Masters in Fine Arts in Theater Directing and Choreography. With amusement, somewhat stocky Oscar recalls: “I was a hoofer.” But being a humanist, he regards dancing as something which should transcend mere entertainment. “People like Nureyev and Astaire showed how much they could defy gravity…. Michael Jackson never left the ground. James Brown was grounded. People like James Brown and Michael Jackson brought unity with their moves.”
I asked him how he got from performing to pizza. He starts answering in measured, Shakespearean terms: “That- was a big- mistake. But it worked out for me, because as you can see, I like to eat!” The “mistake” was allowing his brother to influence him to open, after which the former married and bolted. At this point, Oscar starts singing Sinatra’s “That’s Life.”
He makes an analogy between his philosophy of restaurant operation and theater. “You can only do it…one at a time. It’s like a performance. No two are alike, but you give it your best.” Not surprisingly, one of few things Oscar decries about Los Angeles is the shortage of substantive theater. (He criticizes the artificiality of the movie influence, when he mimics a struggling actor on set. Screwing his face up, in confusion, Oscar yells: “’Line!!’”)
He possesses an incredible affinity for Los Angeles’ diversity, integrating it into the menu with inimitable creativity. He calls the Italian wide-noodle, ricotta and ground beef dish: “L.A. Sagna.” I’ve had it, and it’s “magnifico.” Then there’s my favorite, the Chavez Ravine pizza, containing the sweetness of red sauce and mushrooms, perfectly counterbalanced by the briny, minced garlic, mozzarella, artichokes, goat cheese and pesto. No less than four cultures are represented by the Bruce Lee pizza: Italian (Mozzarella, red sauce), Filipino (Langonisa sausage), American (green pepper and red onion) and Asian (Hoisin sauce).
If Oscar has an insatiable appetite, it’s for local history. I ask him how the ingredients of his dishes reflect the Los Angeles-related names he assigns them. “How do they? They don’t,” he replies, referencing the Chavez Ravine. “A lot of people don’t know what that is. I felt that if I named it that, they would ask and find out- same thing with the Bruce Lee-because Bruce Lee had a dojo in Chinatown, at one time. A lot of people don’t know about that. People talk about Disney and Pixar, but Bruce Lee was the real special effects, and he doesn’t even have a plaque in his honor, here.”
Like Greg Leeha, Oscar Arce had a second business, a rare music and book store. His store contained virtually every type of music imaginable, including that of the only Black, Jazz bagpiper, Rufus Harley. I never dreamed anything like a Jazz bagpiper even existed, let alone a Black one. Rufus always rocks my socks off, when I hear him being played at L.A. Pizza.
Oscar still has quite a vinyl record collection, a medium of recording that was the subject of one of his many documentary films. His crowning achievement in DVD production necessitated a recent pilgrimage to Spain. There, he video-chronicled the path that landmark filmmaker Luis Buñuel took, when making “Land Without Bread (1933). The latter, a graphic expose of poverty in two small towns, sparked a backlash against Buñuel from the existing Fascist government. With a concern you can almost cut with a kitchen knife, Oscar notes: “He [Buñuel] was the first to film his subjects facing front- so he would have close-ups of people’s rotting teeth, or a guy shaking with palsy.”
I feel a great sense of inclusion at L.A. Pizza, as I do when at Liliya’s. Oscar has made me a part of his wonderful family. One of his employees mentored my attempt to sling and form pizza dough in the air. Even though the result was a bit “rough around the edges,” she encouraged and complimented me. Oscar’s generosity is apparent in his sponsorship of a high school athletic team and the Studio for Southern California History. He periodically invites schoolchildren over for pizza and math drills, the latter realized through counting toppings.
I have observed many “Angelenos” who have used their ethnic backgrounds as a springboard for the development of extraordinary talents. But it never happens unless it is accomplished within an American context. This means a framework valuing individual effort as well as a cooperative good-neighborliness. It also signifies an eternal optimism, a faith that supreme effort will overcome extreme adversity.
All of this should be a source of inspiration. It is also what makes Los Angeles the city with the most opportunity in the universe.
Liliya China Bistro
102 West 2nd Street 101
Los Angeles, CA 90012
(213) 620-1717
Los Angeles Pizza Company
712 N. Figueroa Street
Los Angeles, CA 90012
(213) 626-5272
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