Los Angeles

beerbellygrilledI'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.

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ImageI try really hard to be a health-conscious dancer. I go to the health food markets and buy spinach and avocados and turkey breast and trail mix. But the truth is, I am a carb monster. "C stands for cookie. That's good enough for me." But for me, the real C stands for croissant, and I just couldn't find the perfect one. Until one day I was walking around the neighborhood and saw it. Tarte Tatin. In that little mini-mall on Olympic and Oakhurst. Yep; the one with the frozen yogurt place and the nail salon.

Owner Kobi Tobiano (the former pastry chef at Charles Nob Hill in San Francisco) makes everything in-house from all natural ingredients. It's perfect. Clean, cozy, and filled with croissants! Their almond croissant has become an almost daily indulgence for me--buttery and rich, made from real almonds, not that disgusting paste everyone else in town seems to be using.

If you are a freak of nature and almond croissants just aren't your thing, try to the cinnamon vanilla swirl or the fluffy, powdered sugar covered brownie (or if you are like me, maybe you should get all three). Their egg salad is light and fresh, made with homemade mayo and on fresh baked bread. Their muesli is nothing short of a work of art.

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320southlogoFlouncing 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.

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stanslogo.jpg 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!”

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yamashiro.jpgThough I've lived in Los Angeles for two decades, I still don't consider myself an Angeleno. Mostly because we rarely do anything that's considered interesting or hip in this vast and ever-changing metropolis.  We have our own wine cellar – well it will be someday, but right now it's an office with cases of wine stacked in it – and a kick-ass Rock Band set-up, so we're pretty much self-entertained. It's hard to pay for drinks when you have so much waiting for you at home. However, every once in awhile I feel the need to explore our horizons and wander out into the City. The Man goes along with "the plan" because he has no real choice in the matter. Putting up a fuss just wastes energy in a fight you aren't going to win. Lately, our excursions have centered around vintage Hollywood venues, which are regaining their popularity due to an "old is cool" mentality sweeping the city. We're not only old-fashioned, we like our drinks that way too, so the new classic cocktail culture is giving us a reason to step out once again. Being a fan of Hollywood history, I am slightly embarrassed to admit that there are many old school, infamous places I've never been to like Musso & Franks, The Polo Lounge, Chateau Marmont and Spago. Didn't have any money when I moved here. Still find it hard to spend $12 on a martini. There is however, one place I can now cross off the list: Yamashiro.

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