Los Angeles

Flouncing along La Brea Avenue one windy day looking for a great cup of coffee which, by the way, is rather difficult to find in Los Angeles, I happened upon a rather stark building. Being the warrior that I am, I knocked on the door and asked a young lady there if they served coffee and was it any good?  She told me that they only made french press café. How pleased I was to hear this.

It was rather late in the afternoon and I enjoyed my cup in this quite provocative wine lounge. As I was about to go on my merry way, I noticed a young man sitting in a deep, red velvet chair sipping on a glass of wine. It was 3.30pm and knowing the habits of people who love their wine no matter what time of day or night, I decided I must return…a quick glance at their menu also helped me to make that decision.

I did return for the best coffee in town a few days later and chatted with the owner, Edgar Poureshagh, a very interesting and educated person.  He was, in fact, the young man I had seen sipping wine.  We spoke of many things – food, wine and the Assyrian empire and after telling him I wrote restaurant pieces, I decided this would be a grand place to write about.

I'm pretty sure LA is the only place that it can be hard to find a restaurant marked by a gigantic neon sign. That's because in a city that's made up of a string of strip malls, neon signs are easy to overlook. And this one is tucked behind the parking lot of an unassuming boba place. It reads 'park' above an arrow pointing one way and 'drink' above an arrow pointing the other way, towards Beer Belly.

Aptly named since (refreshingly for LA) there's not one remotely dietetic thing on the menu. Even the broccoli rabe is drenched in burrata, and don't get me started on the duck fat French fries. Or do, because they're the perfect combination of crispy and greasy.

And the grilled cheese might just be the best I've ever had.

When relatives come for the holidays in the words of the Eagles, it can be “heaven or it can be hell”. In our case it was delicious!

My favorite Aunt and Uncle escaped the blistering cold of NYC during this past holiday season and came to visit my family and get a bit of LA sunshine. My uncle is a man who loves his food. It is second only to his wife, my aunt who he’s been married to for 32 years and he is still as gaga and giddy as a love struck teenager. It is quite beautiful to behold. As is his wide eyed appraisal of a good menu.

It is fortunate, indeed, that my uncle has done very well financially so he can indulge in both of his passions; spoiling his wife and satisfying his taste buds. Living in NYC and traveling the world they eat in the best restaurants so needless to say when they come to LA, we eat well. Since they stay at the Beverly Wilshire Hotel and enjoy driving in LA traffic about as much as we do, we confined our restaurant hopping to Beverly Hills.

This is like an April Fool’s Day joke; a BBQ joint write up by a vegetarian! There is a method to this madness. After all there’s more than one way to come at anything!

Here’s the theory; there are a lot of men out there who love BBQ. It’s such a manly man food. A lot of those manly men have wives, girlfriends, partners who are vegetarians. This makes going out to BBQ with their loved one difficult. Probably an adventure saved for boy’s night out. You know, after playing poker, shooting hoops, or screaming at TV skirmishes, they go grab a few ribs and some beers.

Ladies. I’m taking a page out of my book and handing it right to you. Want to make your hungry he-man happy, take him to Bludso’s BBQ and Bar on La Brea where you both will eat well and be happy. There probably won’t be any romance that night because he will be stuffed like the pig he just ate, but he will fall asleep with a bloated smile on his face and you will have won several gold stars! (To be cashed in later for jewelry, an i-pad, a weekend away with (or without) him or whatever your need might be at the moment.)