Savory

"Coffee and Danish": You can't help but think of a stale pot of truck stop brew sitting next to gunky jelly-laden pastry. But that couldn't be further from the original. Sure Denmark is a country that runs on coffee, but rather than the dense lump of dough that we know, their daily cups are accompanied by delicate, flaky, marzipan-filled morsels that we rarely see in America. "Coffee is an integral part of the daily lives of Scandinavians," says Beatrice Ojakangas, author of "The Great Scandinavian Baking Book."

Basic savory pie dough No. 1 Total time: 15 minutes, plus freezing and chilling times Servings: Makes enough dough for 1 double-crust (9-inch) pie or 6 individual hand pies 1/2 cup lard or vegetable shortening 1/2 cup (1 stick) butter 2 2/3 cups (11 1/2 ounces) flour 1 teaspoon salt 5 tablespoons cold water 1. Freeze the lard and butter until solid, at least one hour (up to overnight). 2. In a large mixing bowl, mix together the flour and salt.

Savory pies are the culinary equivalent of a down quilt: warm, cushy, uncomplicated -- and precisely what I want to tuck into once winter has settled in and I've found myself safely on the other side of the high-stakes holiday cooking gantlet. After all, December may be a monthlong orgy of creamy pumpkin and candied pecan, rare roast beef and chestnuts, and Champagne and oysters to toast the new year -- but January and its resolutions seem to demand simplicity and thrift. Thrifty needn't mean dull or meager, however, and savory pies -- with their combination of tender, salted crust and hearty filling so elementally formal, yet endlessly varied -- fit the bill perfectly.

More than 50 crafty vendors will hawk handmade wares at the Bust Holiday Craftacular , a holiday celebration of old-fashioned creativity. Handbags, jewelry, clothing and seasonal cards will be for sale, along with savory edibles from Two Boots Pizza and the Grilled Cheese Truck. Raffle prizes and DJs round out the entertainment. Goodie bags will be given to the first 250 attendees. The Echo and the Echoplex, 1822 Sunset Blvd., L.A. 10 a.m.-6 p.m. Sat. $2. (213) 413-8200. www.attheecho.

For ages, it was accepted that there were only four primary tastes on the tongue from which all others arose. Those would be sweet, sour, salty and bitter. But over the last few decades, a fifth taste called "umami" has gained acceptance among gourmands worldwide. A Japanese scientist identified it in 1908, and it can best be described as savory. That flavor (enhanced by an all-natural umami rub made of proprietary ingredients) is the secret in the sauce at the ascendant L.A. chain Umami Burger.

Sunny-side-up eggs with flowing yolks and house-made Lebanese beef sausage top the khachapuri at Zaatar Factory in Burbank. Made to order and served warm from the bakery's oven, the boat-shaped flatbread with high-fluted edges has the look of a chalupa . Your topping choices can vary: cheese or sautéed potatoes instead of sausage, or any combination of these. However you order it, khachapuri ranks up there with eggs Benedict or a smoked salmon omelet as a luxurious morning meal (although this 8-month-old bake shop serves it any time of the day)

When the new Metro Gold Line extension rumbles into Boyle Heights this summer, it will bring visitors from all over the city to a neighborhood that has long been a threshold for newcomers. Named for Irish immigrant Andrew Boyle, it has been home to Jewish, Japanese and Mexican arrivals over the last century. Today, the predominant Mexican community has shaped this bluff above the L.A. River into a vibrant center of cultural pride where bright murals, handmade tamales and mariachi tunes await.

The aroma of kebabs grilling over smoldering charcoal will lead you to a shipudia, or skewer house, almost anywhere you wander in Israel. The allure of these simple restaurants, though, is more than just the meat. Typically, even the most unpretentious places lay out a generous spread of Israeli-style salads and dips that, no matter how casual the ambience, surrounds you with a wonderful sense of luxury.

A baguette, still warm from the oven, its golden crust trellised with cracks. Sandwiched inside, a bright green thatch of cilantro and jalapenos, a tangle of pickled carrots and daikon, a smear of pate. Loaded between that, maybe a layer of rich barbecued pork or zesty meatballs, even spicy sardines. This is banh mi, an addictive Vietnamese street food and the culinary pay dirt of French colonialism.