Merrick and I had the honor of attending a costume jewelry auction at
Decades hosted by the original Zoebot herself—Rachel Zoe. I die! Events
don’t get much better than that. The people watching was on another
level. Dresses from every decade, necklaces bigger than my head; heels
for which the word “high” doesn’t even begin to describe it; and Hermes
bracelets on every wrist in the house.
As amaazing as the outfits were, the hors d’oeuvres were offensively
wafer sized and even at that scale, the pin thin socialites were
turning their noses up at them. The server looked shocked that I even
took one and, god forbid, ate it! It was tuna tartar with wasabi caviar
by the way and it was delicious (despite its miniscule size). Merrick
had a vision of throwing a Sprinkles cupcake into the crowd and
watching the emaciated socialites knock each other out with their
Chanel handbags as they fought for the red velvet treat.
Don’t get us wrong. Merrick and I love skinny as much as the next
Angelenos. Merrick practically coined the term manorexia and I may or
may not be responsible for the offensively amoral
www.thisiswhyyoureskinny.com blog. But even we had to pig out after
that event.
Los Angeles
Los Angeles
Gelato Bar
Despite the fact I have parents who eat ice cream almost every day (if they could have it at every meal, they would), until
recently I thought I could live happily without ever lifting a dessert spoon again.
I know what you’re thinking. Quelle horreur! C’est impossible! I tell you it’s true. When I gave up my 2-liter a day Coca-Cola habit in college in an effort to regain a good night's sleep (caffeine is not my friend), I found, after a few months, I no longer craved sugar. As my tastes matured, I discovered the savory complexity of wine and eating dessert no longer interested me. Since ice cream was never one of my favorites, I didn’t miss it.
Sri Siam Cafe
Twenty years ago when I lived in
San Diego, my ex-husband and I loved eating at Karinya Thai Cuisine.
The restaurant was up the street from our home in Pacific Beach, and it
was our “go to” dinner place when we entertained visiting family and
friends. We usually requested to eat in the “traditional” dining room.
This meant we’d have to remove our shoes before going in, and sit on
the floor atop beautiful Thai triangle pillows.
The head chef (an American) had married into the Karinya Thai family. Since we were regulars, the chef always took a few moments to tell us wonderful tales of his trips to the Far East. One of the best was about the first time he visited his wife’s family in a remote village in Thailand. He was shocked at the amount of time it took to shop for groceries each day. The entire family, led by the grandmother, would get up very early and drive for hours to pick up a particular type of chili, then go a couple of hours in the opposite direction to buy some galangal, and finally another hour south to pick up fresh kaffir lime leaves. By the time the shopping was done, they had driven five or six hours to get ingredients for THAT evening’s dinner. I found it fascinating that each ingredient was so special and distinct, that it was worth all that time and trouble.
Church and State
Chef Walter Manzke’s smile is
infectious. Wait, maybe I shouldn’t say “infectious” since we’re in the
middle of the H1N1 Flu scare (I refuse to call it the OTHER name
because I love my bacon).
On my first visit to Church and State, I didn’t get to meet the chef until evening’s end, when I stole a few seconds of his time to tell him how much Peter and I enjoyed the restaurant. During our entire dinner though, from across the room, I was carefully watching him as he expedited orders and finished off each plate in the open kitchen.
Between bites of the luxurious beef short-rib bordelaise and the perfectly baked (and cute) tiny ramekins of escargot, I would look over and see Chef Manzke’s face beaming. It’s almost like I could feel his joy drifting through the kitchen, then up above the beautiful, antiquated string of lights, and finally, smack down onto my plate.
Delicious food always makes me happy, but seeing chef Manzke’s ear-to-ear grin in the kitchen definitely made me more aware of the joy and care he (and his crew) puts into each dish.
Bastide, in a class of its own
Under chef Walter Manzke, the Melrose Place restaurant's third incarnation is quite the experience.
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.
Order Champagne and the sommelier waltzes over with a double magnum of vintage Champagne one night, pours an unusual Sacy rosé another time. You might be served breadsticks with transparent gold potato chips and spiced nuts or slender, cheese-laced churros that taste like New World gougères. The effect is somehow so civilized, you find yourself relaxing into another rhythm.
Bastide is back.
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