Los Angeles

Chef Walter Manzke’s smile is infectious. Wait, maybe I shouldn’t say “infectious” since we’re in the middle of the H1N1 Flu scare (I refuse to call it the OTHER name because I love my bacon).

On my first visit to Church and State, I didn’t get to meet the chef until evening’s end, when I stole a few seconds of his time to tell him how much Peter and I enjoyed the restaurant. During our entire dinner though, from across the room, I was carefully watching him as he expedited orders and finished off each plate in the open kitchen. 

Between bites of the luxurious beef short-rib bordelaise and the perfectly baked (and cute) tiny ramekins of escargot, I would look over and see Chef Manzke’s face beaming. It’s almost like I could feel his joy drifting through the kitchen, then up above the beautiful, antiquated string of lights, and finally, smack down onto my plate.

Delicious food always makes me happy, but seeing chef Manzke’s ear-to-ear grin in the kitchen definitely made me more aware of the joy and care he (and his crew) puts into each dish.

I love food. And I love going out to eat and trying new places. And I love talking about food. In fact, I love food so much that whenever I'm eating I actually try not to get too full so that I'll be able to eat again in another two hours—which is something I think I inherited from my mother. When I was a kid, I thought it took five hours to get to Santa Barbara from LA because she would take the Pacific Coast Highway and stop to eat three times. (If you are not familiar with the geography of Southern California, it shouldn’t take more than an hour and a half to get to Santa Barbara).

But despite that fact that I grew up in a household where it was the norm to discuss what we were going to eat for lunch during breakfast (even if breakfast was at 12pm), I am not a foodie. I hate restaurants that pile food into thimble sized pyramids in the middle of oversized square plates. And when things like soup are served in shot glasses (unless you're Hatfield's and then you can do whatever you want). But the other night when my lovely boyfriend realized that not only did he not owe extra taxes, but he was getting a hefty refund, I wanted him to take me somewhere nice to make up for all those nights of sopitos at Poquito Mas while he anticipated paying what he thought was going to be a huge bill from the government. It turns out my step-dad is not the only man in my life who can’t do his own accounting. No offense, Alan.

Three weeks into all night shoots in Chatsworth on a low-budget indie movie with the same caterer twice a day serving us burgers for “breakfast” every single day (not even I can eat a burger every day, 4 times a week is my limit) and the least I can say is crew morale was low. Hence my excitement that the upcoming Thursday we would go a few hours early (and by early I mean late but time gets completely backwards on a night shoot), and we needed to bring in a second meal, not only to avoid paying meal penalties but, more importantly, to keep everybody happy.

I took off to scour the Internet and find the best possible food truck to grace our set, and one willing to visit us at 4 in the morning. My best friend texted me a list of his favorites and one name stuck out: The Hungry Nomad. We had become sort-of nomads ourselves, living in motorhomes and camera trucks and pop-up tents as we set up in various locations to shoot a high-school-age-rom-com all over Chatsworth. And the name promised Middle Eastern food, or, as I soon learned, Middle Eastern Fusion, my new favorite genre.

Tables lined up along the windows at One Pico offer not only an ocean view, but also a glimpse of Santa Monica's glitzy new Ferris wheel. Its complex computer system dials out the colors, changing light patterns the way a kaleidoscope does when the barrel is turned. In the foreground, palms nod their shaggy heads in the breeze, and the sand below is dimpled with hundreds of footsteps. Joggers streak down the beach as the waiter in a fitted vest pours glasses of Guigal Viognier from the northern Rhône.

Something is different about the restaurant in Shutters on the Beach hotel in Santa Monica, and it's not just the reasonable wine prices or the interesting selection. To celebrate the iconic beach hotel's 15th anniversary, One Pico has undergone a much-needed makeover. And the powers that be have had the good sense not to go for a trendy restaurant-slash-lounge, but a comfortable and casual place with an updated California menu that emphasizes simplicity over complication, seasonal ingredients over the pricey and precious. It's a strategy that's bringing in locals along with summer's hotel guests.

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