Headaches are the worst. And if you don't catch them right when they start, they're hard to cure. I've had one for four days. My mom told me to drink lemonade.
Lemonade?
I've taken naps, sat in dark rooms, taken Aleve, even taken Fiorinal. What the eff is lemonade gonna do?
But I was desperate, and unable to operate a motor vehicle, so I walked to Cabbage Patch.
I told them my mom sent me and was convinced they could cure my headache. As if that was a normal thing to say to a cafe owner.
He told me of course they could and prescribed French lentils (which were beautifully presented with avocado and drizzled oil and tasted like they could purify your soul) and told me the mint lemonade was on Dr. Cabbage Patch.
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.
It's all my friend Jo's fault. She brought me to LudoBites 3.0 at Royal T in Culver City just over 2 years ago. I had never heard of Chef Ludo before and really wasn't that into food, but I was happy to go along for the ride. This was still in the early days of the "pop-up" phenomenon – where a chef takes over a restaurant not normally open for dinner for a night or, in Ludo's case for a few weeks. At that point it/he was still a novelty, so getting a table was still possible and not left up to the whims of fate. I learned quickly that while dining with foodies you are required to share plates (something I'm still not always a fan of) and at least try everything that is put in front of you – unless it will kill you. Ludo hooked me with my first bite of his food – a foie gras beignet – and sealed the deal forever with his crispy fried chicken. (Now thankfully available on a regular basis from his 
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.
Everybody has them. Those neighborhood joints you walk/drive by a
million times but never go into. For no good reason. The place looks
nice enough and clearly has customers, but you always just pass it by.
We've lived in the Valley for over a decade, within walking distance of
the Great Greek and we never went until last month. Our friends, S and
K (who used to live nearby) were horrified. Turns out the GG is one of
their all time favorite places. Or so they claimed. You'd think if that
were true they would have drug us there long before the night K was due
to leave the country for an extended length of time. Of course, it was
the one restaurant she just had to eat at one more time before she
left, so that has to count for something. I guess there isn't a lot of
Greek food where she's going.
