Los Angeles

There’s something about being up at 4:00 a.m. that I feel, gives me permission to go to hell in a hand basket, gastronomically speaking.  I dropped my husband and kids off at LAX so he could escort them to Connecticut for summer camp. I always  feel bereft when the kids are away.  Especially our younger daughter Hannah, who I think on the eve of leaving, feels obligated to be sweeter to make up for the fact that her older sister Lena, urged by her teenage-ness, becomes, well, let’s just say, not so sweet.

I slept with Hannah last night and it was like being 13 all over again. Although I think our combined ages when we do that amounts to about 10.  “Quit tickling me!” “I’m not Mom.” “Are too!!” “Am not!” “Oh, Christ, you farted!” “Miss me yet?”

Driving home from the airport, I thought, ‘what would be open at this hour that would be absolutely decadent and bad for me…..?”  “Stan’s!”

Bread.  I love it, especially when it’s well made.  But I freely admit that I try to avoid it.  I’m of a certain age and weight when the dangers of too much free carb styling can take a toll.  But how hard is that to do now?  It’s really hard with all the neighborhood bakeries opening all over town.  Yesterday I checked out Bread Lounge in DTLA.  Tucked away on the southeast corner of 7^th and Santa Fe the location is an indication of just how much DTLA is thriving. 

I walked in on a Friday during late lunchtime and it was filled with people dining in and taking out.  If you park in the back and walk through to the front the first display you see is packed with all manner of packaged sables, biscotti and other little nibbles.

The production area is on display to your right and there is bread everywhere from large boules and batards to skinny crusty baguettes and a good selection of whole grain and white sturdy sandwich breads.  And of course there are the small coffee cakes and viennoiserie that we’ve come to expect.  

I've studied wine for a decade and have worked on my palate, expanding my personal taste to include styles from all over the world. Red, white, sparkling, dessert. I've tried them all. Yet, when it came to food, I still treated most meals as the means to an end – which was drinking great wine. So the fact that I've dined at the Petrossian Cafe twice in 3 weeks is more than a little out of character. It wasn't until I started following a bunch of LA foodies this past spring on Twitter that I realized how limited my experience with food really was. I was embarrassed by the long list of delicacies that I had never eaten and was actually afraid to put in my mouth. So, I started making a concentrated effort to eat outside my comfort zone and jump on the foodie bandwagon. Within the last six months I've eaten Wellfleet oysters on the half shell (a must when on Cape Cod), Escargot a La Bourguignonne (anything smothered in garlic and butter tastes good) and a Scotch Egg (a deep-fried delight).

I was beginning to understand what all the buzz was about, but was still a bit hesitant when invited by my friend Jo to join her and a group of local foodies at Petrossian, a restaurant that specialized in two of my biggest food challenges – caviar and salmon. I've tried both several times over the years and have been unable to overcome my overall dislike. Just when I think I've turned the corner (our friend Charles' amazing poached salmon with homemade dill sauce comes to mind), I encounter a variation that sends my palate running for the hills yet again.  However, since Petrossian makes their fame and fortune via these delicacies I decided to try the best before giving up for good.

I know I’m really late to the game on this one, but I finally went to Fraiche in Culver City. I’m not going to lie, it wasn’t just chance that kept me from trying it. It’s not that I don’t want to give Culver City a chance. I do. And I have. I’ve been to Wilson – terrible and terribly expensive (good riddance). I’ve been to Akasha (and will probably go back)—I highly recommend the lamb sliders, but it’s a little expensive for me. I’ve even been to Royal/T where, although I do like the idea of eating in an interactive art gallery, the food is only so-so and there are way too many children running around. But my mom would not stop raving about Fraiche. So I decided to swallow my bias about Culver City and try it. Plus, Matt and I really needed to go on a date—for both of our sakes.

It was surprisingly easy to make a reservation and I guess they sensed we needed a “date” because they made us wait a few minutes so that we could have the best table in the house. The menu is full of fresh ingredients (baby beets, house-made ricotta), surprising combinations (white wine and saffron) and besides the shellfish platters, nothing is over $25. And the drinks are some of the best I’ve had in LA. I ordered the Summer Sage which is like spiked spa water and Matt had the Bourbon Street (Bourbon, Grand Marnier, egg whites and orange bitters) which I thought I was going to spit back up on the table but ended up liking so much that we’ve since tried (unsuccessfully) to make it at home.