During the Great Depression, Hollywood did its part by providing
people with the ultimate escape. It didn’t try to provide its audience
with everyday situations that just reinforced their misery. Sullivan’s
Travels made that point brilliantly. Instead, Hollywood gave them
fantasy and opulence. The glamour of the Busby Berkley movies, the
optimism of Shirley Temple; all these movies were a respite from the
bleakness that awaited them when the lights came up.
Nobody wants to admit that the country might be facing a
depression. At the very least, right now, times are tough. That’s why,
when I tell you about Gold Class Cinemas, you must understand the
spirit in which my husband Chad and I went. First of all, we were
invited by our friend Nigel, who is already a member and was very
excited to see our reaction to the whole experience.
We were to see Iron Man 2 and the theatre was in Pasadena. When I went online to check it out, I saw that there were, what looked like big orange Bark-a-loungers with smiling people resting with cocktails. Hmmm.
Last week, I had two major disappointments. I did not win the ticket
lottery to attend Michael Jackson’s funeral at the Staples Center and
the red velvet doughnut at the Nickel Diner in Downtown LA was not red
velvet.
My mom makes the greatest hamburger in the world. I don’t know how she does it — it’s not the cut of the meat or the way she marinades it (she doesn’t) or the fact that it’s organic (which it is) or that it has some fancy cheese on it (though it usually does). It’s just the greatest hamburger you’ve ever had. Which is why I’m always hesitant to try the great, new burger stand around the corner — especially, when it’s a gourmet burger stand. Don’t get me wrong. The idea of maple grilled onions and blue cheese and truffle oil on a hamburger is certainly appealing to me, but somehow those gourmet burgers — even the ones from Father’s Office — just never taste as good as my mom’s plain, old patty melts.
Mario Battali’s newest haunt in L.A.
I hold restaurant grudges. Big time. If they take french fries off the menu and replace them with sweet potato fries (ahem, Melrose Bar & Grill), if I get sick from the seaweed salad (ahem, Reel Food Daily), if the take out portions are unreasonably small and unbelievably expensive (ahem, Nook), mark my words, I will never come back. EVER. But what happened the first time I went to the Foundry, might not have been entirely their fault. 
