Just to state the obvious, we've been on break for the reason below. But with my new MacBook up and running, I might be able to get things going again before this blog presence is completely erased from cyberspace and my readers (all five of you) vanish. Thanks for your patience!
In a week or so -- it could be any day now, but hopefully I'll have a little more time -- I'll be delivering Baby Ritz-Myers at Good Samaritan Hospital, which is vaguely located Downtown. (In L.A. planning geek terms this area just west of the 110 along the Wilshire corridor is technically known as Central City West.)
While I'm glad to avoid the maze and parking difficulty that is Cedars, I'm mildly envious of some food options around there (e.g. Breadbar and Joan's). So, where can we get take-out near Good Sam? Maybe friends and family will be able to help feed us so immediate geography doesn't matter. Still, it doesn't hurt to be prepared.
So far the best prospects include: Pacific Dining Car; pricey, but I'll need cow and apparently this landmark restaurant does a nice set-up for new parents at its neighbor hospital. Plus the hours are in our favor. And Mama's Hot Tamales and Langer's are a quick shot west along Wilshire. Kuishimbo is between my folks' house and the hospital.
Hopefully our stay won't be too long. But you never know what's gonna go down, so please share suggestions.
If I don't get a last minute reservation at Cut steakhouse (yeah right!), I'm without a backup plan for my birthday tonight. I totally dropped the ball planning something this year -- so unlike me. Where else to go? Not much excites these days. Any thoughts, suggestions are welcome.
A little bit of crazy:
The Standard Hotel Downtown undoubtedly retains its mojo as party central. I love the design, rooms are cheap, the pool is delicious, and its success is good for Downtown. Still, it's sort of an odd place for us to spend part of our first anniversary weekend, since we wound up practically hiding in our room to avoid the crowds of good-time seekers.
Yet if you want to celebrate a milestone event with memorable food, I can't recommend the Standard's room service. Even if it's well priced compared to other room service charges at other hotels, breakfast arrives cold and they mess up a couple of items. Oh well. No biggie. We enjoy our mini-local vacation Downtown anyway. Despite these glitches the Standard has a decent if not innovative wine list, including Sea Smoke Ten for $115; not bad for a wine that retails for $70-80. Those fools might not know what they've got.
A lot of sentimentality:
Most of our many out-of-town guests stayed at the Standard for our wedding and it's close to Traxx, where we had dinner on Saturday night (technically the night before our anniversary). How strange to think back on our big noisy festive celebration and see Union Station so quiet and nearly deserted this past weekend. Hello, memory dissonance.
A little bit of bargain hunting:
A trip to Compton to get a scratch and dent model Vinotemp wine fridge is recommended anytime. If not the most romantic of activities, many good deals are to be found there.
A little bit more trendy with a dash of classy:
The glorious freedom that we currently enjoy to go out as a couple without babysitters and lots of fuss is soon coming to an end � all the more reason to have two nice dinners. We spent a couple nights at the hotel during our nuptials, thus we're sticking to the theme by having a big Sunday night meal at Whist at the Viceroy. When we came here last year with a big group I was still reeling from all the goings-on, so uncharacteristically I forgot what I ate.
This year I'm more clear headed. And many hours later the side of sauted wild mushrooms and the main course of sea scallops topped with caviar, separated by a procession of fresh potato chips standing at attention, and placed over potato puree and lobster butter is very much still with me. For better or for worse, portions match the prices at Whist and if I didn't hate to waste food, I wouldn't finish my plate. Heavy stuff. With the exception of the under-cooked, completely bland braised leek and perhaps too much salt on everything else, the food at Whist is quite good and suave. As is H's elk, and how often do you see that on a menu? For those who wonder, it's textured sort of like a filet and not gamey. Dinner turns out to exceed my modest expectations based on the tepid reviews I read.
A lot of awesome cake:
Ah, the best coda to the weekend, and the one I most greatly anticipate. I carefully unwrap the multiple sheets of silver foil, anxious to see how will the cake hold up a year later. Well, it does, and beautifully! Not as good as fresh; saying so would be an insult to Roxana's masterful work, right? But the hazelnut flavors chime through as if it were recently baked. Giandujia remains smooth as the butter with which the cake is loaded. A perfect way to mark the occasion, maybe with some friends over later to help us finish it off and taste Sauternes.
But not the Chteau d'Yquem. That's for a later anniversary.
How am I supposed to keep track of all the foods I'm supposed to avoid? I didn't know soft cheeses like feta and the queso fresco served with the Andean mega corn at Los Balcones del Peru are off limits. And I thought I was being responsible by ordering the choclo and boiled sweet potato on the side so as to avoid the ceviche juice. But I ate the cheese. I am already proving to be a terrible mother.
My doctor also gently suggested I put away the heels I was caught wearing on my last visit, even if they were my comfy old lady Ferragamos. There's no denying that it's time to enter the flats-only shoe phase, so I waved a sad temporary goodbye to the many boxes in my closet. Now the cruel irony is that my favorite flats feel a tad too snug.
To my credit, I managed to baby sit my friends' 16-month-old without incident (she's happens to be a joy and an early-to-bed, deep sleeper), eat balanced meals and snacks, and make sure to touch only the super well-cooked pieces at Soot Bull Jeep.
Which leads to some exciting news. SBJ is back up to an A! No more facing that fat red C in the window that we sorrowfully avoided. I'm so happy to have their charcoal grilled meats again -- the cooked stuff over gas at other BBQ restaurants doesn't compare. All they gotta do next is fix the overhead hoods, since the intense smoke might be not so great for Baby or for any of our lungs. (OK, enough already.) When we got home our clothes went straight into the hamper.
Soot Bull Jeep
3136 West 8th Street (at Catalina)
Los Angeles 90005
213.387.3865
Getting on a jet plane tomorrow to spend the weekend in the D.C. area. Then it's onto I-95 to NYC with my sister and the kids to meet my dad and grandpa, plus more mishpucha time in Jersey to celebrate Passover with the extended fam.
Slated on the eating agenda: The Spotted Pig, Bouchon Bakery, pizza, Baked, Town, Lupa, and the requisite Zabar's and Fairway stops.
Not that I expect y'all to pay much attention, but posts of late have been fairly light on the booze talk. See, these days I longingly stare into the wine fridge thinking about the bottles we haven't yet gotten to. Reading restaurant wine lists is a purely intellectual exercise, and I fervently smell cocktails. Seder will be a strictly grape juice affair por moi. This is what happens when you have a biscuit in the oven (due in October) and along with it, a hearty appetite and restricted food choices.
Add alcohol to the list of verboten foods Americans are so friggin' neurotic about, along with sushi, raw milk cheeses, and regular coffee. (That being said, Cold Turkey really does work.) Driving is more dangerous than any of the above items, but it's all about your individual comfort level with risk.
I still add a small spoonful of espresso into my steamed milk to get the day started. You gotta live a little, right?
Whatever you do, don't eat out.
Many years of working at a flower shop on February 14th when throngs of unimaginative (but to be fair, conscientious) dudes descended on the store en route to their romantic dinners taught me this is the night to stay away from popular restaurants. Unless you like set menus, harried service, and canned romance.
Best to stay home, cook, open a nice bottle of wine, bake cookies, go see Midnight Cowboy, whatever.
Happy Valentine's Day.
Waiting for terrible fever to subside and insomnia to end explains no posting.
Shit is hectic at the Brazilian Consulate. Thankfully the chaos is ameliorated by the glorious Flynt Publications (formerly Great Western) building at Wilshire and La Cienega (1972.)
It's Pereira & Assoc. at their anomalous best. The OTT surface treatments, oval footprint, and lack of right angles diss and ditch "International Style sermonizing," as Gebhard and Winter observe.
Two words: Gold Mosaics. (No pics, sorry. You have to go see it for yourself.) It's our very own Domus Aurea right here in Los Angeles! Plus the white carport sculptures are amazing works of art. No wonder Larry Flyint chose this place as his HQ. Wouldn't you? The biggest strike against it is the horrendous "public" plaza where benches are nowhere to be found, a fact which rouses my inner Mike Davis.
And although the site fits into the context of Los Angeles 1970s shaglicious opulence, what better building to get me thinking about Brazil's national hero of Modernist architecture? Oscar Niemeyer embraced curvilinear and organic forms, and he refused to be a blind Miesian, much like this building does.
So, here's the start of what might be a semi-hiatus and what will be a fabulous adventure. I have no idea what internet access will be like in Lima, Cuzco, Buenos Aires and Rio. But travels are to be experienced, not blogged about in real time, right?
This past weekend was spent at holiday ftes. None hosted by us, thank god. I don't think I could do Latke Fest again, at least not for a very long time from now. I did host a gaterhing for about 12 folks last week, and we had friends over for brunch on Saturday. Still, all in all, a semi-light week for us.
The holiday season highlight always comes in the form of Morgan's ninth annual party. We even wound up with the Campanile cert after the brutally competitive gift exchange. Hehe.
Her house is like a candy store for grown-ups, meaning it's full of top shelf liquor. All over the damn place. This magical transformation can be a problem for some of us. (The crazy spread with approximately 200 goodies from Sweetcake is a little closer to actual candy, and not much of an issue.)
I was, how do you say…well, Marissa's BF quite accurately described my state as um, "hammered." At least I shed some inhibitions about showing off my fishnets, 4-inch Pradas, and outfit from the best store ever.
Before the crash: some of us girlz.
Following a very large, ill-advised tequila shot, I make an unceremonious exit from the party. Better to extricate myself and crash for an hour rather than wait to embarrass myself or god forbid, someone else.
I hate being That Girl at the party. Yet I live with the consequences, and move on.
Sunday feels like a loooonnnng day of recovery, featuring numerous stops and various food and beverage locations. The pain from the night before is eased somewhat by brunch with our posse at Cliff's Edge (not great, but decent crepes), coffee at Urth in Santa Monica, and dinner at Javan.
But we're most tickled by stopping for tea at The Trails, a new snack purveyor in our neighborhood. Living next to Griffith Park always has its excitements, like fires and coyotes, and now this century-old wooden shack structure with homemade treats is a super special one. Doesn't hurt to have extra incentive to take long walks and hikes.
By the end of the weekend I couldn't help but feel like we're living in an ever-shrinking world, a notion that's both comforting and claustrophobic. Whatevs, at this point in my life I just know a fair number of people, but more importantly, I'm curious and make connections. It happens on its own because of a few factors: Jewish Geography, redundant socio-economic circles, certain schools, non-profit stuff, small writerly worlds having to do with my dad or my husband.
However, figuring out during the course of conversation with a stranger at a party that his sister works in the same field as I do was a novel shocker. This NEVER ever happens to me. (Rarely do I get the "do you work in historic preservation" question before I have to explain why I'm nattering on about architecture and planning-related drivel. Then again, I'm hardly big on networking within my own profession.)
Sometimes the social overlap happens because of easily explainable six degrees sort of circumstances, a few of which are noted above. When we stopped by to visit Eileen at the studio, her stop motion animator colleague went to college with our friends whose house we had just left. Go figure. And sometimes it's a little more random. Like seeing Ben's radio co-producer at our friend Jeanine's awesome kid-centric, chaotic cookie bake party. (Speaking of which, this week's episode is fantastic.)
I decorated some cookies and they turned out very pretty, if I do say so myself. Or "better myself," as my niece would say.
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