Los Angeles

People who don't live in Southern California forget that in the winter, the temperatures can drop into the 40s and even the 30s at night. That's mild compared with the weather experienced by our friends and relatives who live in other parts of the country.

But even here, a sunny day is appreciated all the more after several weeks of gloomy weather. The last couple of days were beautiful. Bright blue, clear skies and temperatures in the mid-70s. Just about everyone switched to shorts and t-shirts.

A perfect time to drive up the coast and have lunch at Malibu Seafood (25653 Pacific Coast Highway, Malibu, 310/456-3430, 310/456-6298, fax 310/456-8017), 1 1/2 miles north of Pepperdine University.

Even though the menu has a lot of variety, I always order the same thing, a very politically incorrect basket of fried fish with fat cut fries and tartar sauce. Michelle likes the ahi tuna burger or the grilled fish taco with a side of cole slaw. If you want to keep the calories down, there are salads and grilled fish and for anyone flush with cash, the Maine Lobster plate.

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. 

One for the Table has never engaged in deliberate snarkiness. I’ve certainly avoided it as I scrupulously adhered to the motto “if you can’t say anything nice…” But, in this economy, I find myself being a bit cranky when certain chefs hold themselves to a particular standard and humiliate others on national television, when they themselves have a restaurant that is pitiful. Gordon Ramsay has set himself up as the arbiter of quality, but after eating at The London twice now, I can tell you The Emperor has no clothes on.

The first time I went there, I was really excited to have the English Breakfast. I loves me sausages. What I got were these dry, jerky-like, lukewarm salt tubes accompanied by a roasted tomato whose flavor was incomprehensibly bad. How can you mess that up?

The second time I went was because my daughter’s admissions counselor for the college she’ll be attending in the fall was staying at the Bel Age hotel where The London is located. Looking over the menu, I felt like a pinball being battered around from bad choice to bad choice.

There’s a new cake in town. Actually, it’s a whole boutique full of cake and it’s here to stay! Lady M, the glorious cake boutique with three locations in New York City opened in LA last August, quietly without much fanfare but with a line out the door. It seems word spread fast among cake connoisseurs.

Coming upon it by accident while taking my daughter, in from NYC, to AOC for lunch, my daughter informed me that although I was at the wrong valet parking spot for AOC, I might be at the right parking spot after all.

“Huh?”

“Parking for AOC is half a block up, Mom, but if the Lady M on that valet sign is the same as the one in NY, we’re skipping lunch and going straight to dessert.”

“Hmmm , that good?”

“Seriously ridiculous.” (Her highest compliment).

Since we’re both over 21, I figured we we’re old enough to go straight to the good stuff.