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David Weidman has spent a lifetime prowling Los Angeles in a quest for culinary marvels. From pre-dawn voyages into La.'s ethnic bazaars, he has wrested the rarest of spices. On expeditions to tiny specialty farms nestled deep in shadowed valleys; he has discovered the secret hiding places of produce so fresh you want to slap its face. And with an alchemical, almost diabolical sense of flavor, he creates ethereal confections for the most exclusive, demanding clients. Davidoff Cigars burned to ash over his mesquite-broiled sate'. Ground Zero Advertising coos over his exotic centerpieces. Ixtlan Pictures and the Austrian Chamber of Commerce yearn for his gossamer pastries. The LA Weekly endowed him with its Best Cheesecake Award. While as co-owner of Silverlake's Grassy Knoll coffeehouse, he has acquired an FBI dossier as dense and mysterious as the cheesecake itself.Does he trade with exiled Tamils for Sri Lankan cardamon? Smuggle sumac in body bags from the burning Kuwaiti dunes? An entire army of shady back-room middlemen can't say exactly how, but they all know why. "It's something in the eyes," they murmur, reaching for their absinthe. "He is an aficionado, a gourmet, a holy fool." "He is lost," they sigh, "lost on a pilgrimage to a Mecca none can imagine. Until his very Last Supper, he will roam the city in a fever of desire that can only end in tragedy." "But meanwhile," they all agree, "his food is: To Die For."Check out my food blog http://www.wwofood.com