I wanted so badly to be the cynical New York-er while in LA, but it’s pretty hard to do when your skin has a wicked tan and every time you look in the mirror, you’re like ‘God damn…HOT STUFF’. But I’m still going to try to keep the positivity to a minimum because #sadcheerleader has a reputation to maintain.
So during the week, I did find some time to eat and drink. I wasn’t sure if they do either of those things here, but I can confirm that, in fact, they do. Californians - they’re just like us! Here are some notable places:
Antonio’s on Melrose. I don’t know if I loved this place, but I certainly respected it. The moment we walked in, we were greeted by Antonio, the very old, very adorable man who knew we “were the ones who called twice”. We had a back room waiting and set up for us. And the staff waited on us like we were somebodys, even though we very clearly weren’t.
And here’s where the respect comes in - I never saw such an awesome execution of up-sell techniques. Every time the waiter would leave us, after first telling us the most relevant jokes and infamous stories, he would quickly ask us in the most casual manner if we wanted ::insert anything::, as if it might be free. And whatever it was, we said yes, of course. I mean c’mon, they obviously love us here! Guacamole, tequila shots, a used Honda with a family of ferrets living in the back? Sure, please, bring it all. Even our west coast hosts were enthralled:
Anyway - the food was good. But the experience was one not to forget. Any place where you split a dish of enchiladas and leave paying $50 a person, without anyone in the group even being slightly fazed or upset because your faces hurt so much from laughing, is one that deserves a rave. Good job, Antonio and co.
Wurstkuche. Say it out loud. Laugh. Now continue reading.
Uber-fun classic german beer bar. Great for groups. Vegetarian sausage options. Funky club DJ playing. Super fun.
What a sausage fest.
Boozy boozy champagne brunch at The Overland.
At just about the point where I was cheerfully holding a soy latte outside of a yoga studio discussing how awesome that hike was, I stopped in my tracks with the thought: WHO THE HELL AM I RIGHT NOW? I must get home ASAP if I ever want to recognize myself in the mirror again. But then my west coast friends took me to an all-you-can-drink brunch, and I felt like I was back on track.
New Yorkers understand brunch; it’s a language we all speak. And this ‘ish was so solid. There was a time when there were 3 full champagne bottles on the table, and if you can’t get on board with that, well then, get the hell outta here kid - this is a food and booze blog. Duh.
Hitting San Fran tomorrow. There is more to document, and certainly more to say (of course), about this sunny side of the world.
More to come, folks.