Los Angeles

Not only were we celebrating our nation’s birthday this past weekend, but the birthdays of two of our closest friends as well, one born on the 4th, one on the 5th. Since nothing says summer like burgers and hot dogs, we all rendezvous'd to "The Stand" in Encino to get our grilling fix with no preparation or clean-up necessary on our part.

This modern diner/burger joint is so right up our alley we couldn’t believe we’d never heard of it before, especially since it’s only 15 minutes from our house in Studio City. My husband has an uncanny knack for sniffing out any establishment that serves a true Chicago-style hotdog, so perhaps its location on the west side of the always-congested 405 Freeway has something to do with his failure to find this place. I think the constant traffic must have jammed his radar.

I think there might be a reason most of the neutral or positive reviews of Olio Pizzeria focus mainly on breakfast. Their overhyped pizza crust tastes like english muffins. And, unfortunately, it's not quite Thomas'.

It's a tiny restaurant – in a neighborhood pizza parlor way, not a candlelight date kind of way. Not that there's anything wrong with pizza parlors. I am borderline obsessed with Vito's and sitting at a sidewalk table at Village Pizzeria on Larchmont always puts me in a great mood. But Vito's and Village won't empty your wallet and their locations don't force you into shelling out for valet (a completely ridiculous thing to do if you're going out for a slice). At Olio, dinner for two cost almost as much as dinner for two at Sushi Ike.

Under chef Walter Manzke, the Melrose Place restaurant's third incarnation is quite the experience.

The blue door, shuttered for more than a year and a half, is open once again, and the stage is set for Act 3. Step in, and you're welcomed with the offer of an aperitif in the enchanting garden where a pair of gnarly olive trees cast lacy shadows on the wall, water falls into a basin, and the air is scented with lavender.

Order Champagne and the sommelier waltzes over with a double magnum of vintage Champagne one night, pours an unusual Sacy rosé another time. You might be served breadsticks with transparent gold potato chips and spiced nuts or slender, cheese-laced churros that taste like New World gougères. The effect is somehow so civilized, you find yourself relaxing into another rhythm.

Bastide is back.

Read article in the Los Angeles Times...

I recently joined Facebook and that is another story for another time, but its relevant to what I’m telling you because I’ve never made a friend this way until recently.

I was reading my favorite magazine, The Believer. I always turn to Sedaratives when I first get it and this month it was written by a girl named Julie Klausner.  It was very funny and caused me to look up her web site where I read some of her other material. Even funnier. I wrote on her “wall” telling her how much I liked her writing. One thing led to another and I was taking her out to lunch because she was here from New York on a book tour. Her book, I Don’t Care About Your Band, had some of the funniest things I’d ever read about relationships. 

When trying to figure out where to eat, she assumed that I might have that “California” thing and be all ‘food restriction-y”. I told her I was a native and that kind of crap was usually behavior adopted by people who move here. One thing we got out of the way right immediately was that neither of us was a vegan or vegetarian. We had some really arch things to say about people who are, but I’m not going to repeat them because you never know, right?

So, I thought, “Burgers!”