There is nothing to say about this particular piece of L.A. scenery except for the fact that this steeple, complete with gyrating globe, sits above a conspicuous yet curtains-drawn-always-closed-possible-restaurant (best guess). I have yet to fully understand what the building functions as (or what search terms to enter in google), except as an ode to the “world,” and it’s unending axis spin – or a possible meeting place for Scientologists. No theory should be rejected.
Parking is hell. For every streetside spot we saw open, a car was already on its way to take it. Then finally, three blocks away from India’s Oven, we found a parking space. Which turned out to be awesome, because I walked right past Banksy.
…the city’s hesitation to clean up Banksy, may have resulted in leniancy for others…
Beverly Boulevard
Happy Friday! Surfing the web this past week led to the find of several articles from New York Magazine and Vogue (among others), touting Los Angeles neighborhoods as the next this and the new that, plus highlighting some great places to eat along the way. I can’t summarize the entire article, but here’s a whiff:
Photo by Larrie Knights
With the exception of some seriously run-down neighborhoods and sketchy gang territory, it’s hard to pinpoint an area of Los Angeles that isn’t so-to-speak “up-and-coming.” Though I’m sure Jamie Brisick of the New York Times did his homework, a friend of mine said in response to the verdict of Highland Park as the newest addition in charming neighborhoods and low-cost eateries, “I think its funny that the nytimes does these articles on these little ‘up-and-coming’ neighborhoods…when, they are in NEW YORK. they wrote an article on the demise of glassell park and eagle rock (which, hello, is directly next door to highland park; same occidental students…), that was completely out-of-touch and inaccurate. i say: nytimes, stick to your burroughs, leave our barrios to the latimes, thankyouverymuch.” Since she grew up here, and I have just three years under my belt, I’ll refrain from a judgment call here.
NEW YORK TIMES: SURFACING: HIGHLAND PARK
The recommended?
Cafe De Leche
Orecul 77
York on York
Johnny’s
While the piece on Highland Park is focused on the bourgeois artists and local fare, Vogue’s article is decidedly posh. James Steingarten chronicles his visit, alongside L.A. Weekly editor-in-chief Laurie Ochoa and her husband Jonathan Gold, to restaurants located in and around Beverly Hills and West Hollywood, read: costly; but he’s right about L.A. Weekly, the local weekly (duh) newspaper. It is a must in L.A. – a well-written, culturally informative, free newspaper.
VOGUE: FAVORITE L.A. RESTAURANTS
The recommended?
The Bazaar
Chung King
Animal Restaurant
Osteria Mozza
Rivera Restaurant
I recommend:
Osteria La Buca: owned by true Italians – the freshest pasta, very romantic.
Street: If you ever wanted to eat hot dogs in a restaurant, this is your place.
Bon Appetit!
Never in my life has waiting for a table for 50 minutes been so enjoyable. The casual elegance of Bottega Louie and it’s Downtown Los Angeles location make it a hipsters paradise. When we arrived at 8pm, we quickly registered our names with the hostess, were told it would be thirty to forty minutes and so quickly proceeded to the bar. The restaurant/patisserie/gourmet market, with lofty ceilings and white-washed walls, exposes everything. The cooks can be seen behind pellucid glass – chopping the onions, preparing Capreze, stuffing the artichoke; while distant ovens advertise fire cooked Italian pizzas. The crowd is eclectic. Charming in its fashionable sensibility, a conglomerate of the high-end and casual; t-shirts and jeans, short shorts and low tops aka club gear, colorful eccentric vintage and designer suits. There are no rules (especially in L.A., especially Downtown L.A.). On the shelves in the Gourmet market, I find Squid Ink spaghetti, canned Octopus and a variety of imported goods. Though the Bottega is largely Italian, it’s patisserie and comestible fare speaks to its European neighbor, France. While I sip my Vodka in the shop, a waitress offers a complimentary appetizer of delectable white or chocolate chipped bread.
When we are called to the Hostess’ table, she introduces herself as Erica, and Erica politely lets us know it will be just a moment. When we sit down, our waiter promptly attends our table and also makes his introduction. His name is Will. Will serves us perfectly. He takes our order, fills our glasses, brings our food and wine and delivers the check when asked without any vexatious hovering or leaving us elaborately gesturing for his attention. I am thrilled and the food is delicious, our bill manageable. Bottega Louie was recommended to me by a friend, and after our inviting experience, I would do the same.
What would Americans do without their imitation European cafes? Sitting among grossly expensive imported items and white linens, served by snobby waitstaff, and ordering off a pricey menu whose items manifest in servings the size of tuna cans (no, smaller). Americans, and Angelenos can maintain some level of denial that what they are experiencing is a small slice of foreign European bliss, at home. Such is the destiny of The Little Door, a tucked away cafe off of 3rd street. French accoutrements abound in the form of bright cobalt blue walls, menu’s written on chalkboard and mirrors, waitstaff in crisp white shirts or striped tees (think your local venice canal boat guide), canned homemade jams, an assortment of organic teas, coffees and plenty of pastries and colored macaroons. There is an outside covered patio, shrined in leafy vines, and small vases of fresh wildflowers sit on each table; while the inside is awash in white light from outside and the back wall showcases a selection of available wine for you to purchase. The effect is a cafe that is both old world and modern, and very charming with all its European references.
The upscale clientele buzzes; with lunching ladies, business meetings, and the interruption of model-esque women running through to pick up a quick bite to eat at the deli. This cafe is obviously an enjoyably secluded spot. I’d say the patrons are as charming as the gold filigree detailing on the teacups.
My disappointment showed up in the form of the succint and only slightly titillating menu. There is very little to say about the menu, hence the reason I left out mention of it. The Little Door offers organic helpings – among them, ginger salad, Quinoa and Salmon. I decided to order the chicken salad however, hence the cautionary note on healthy. The chicken mixture is a little heavy considering the mayonnaise they put on it, and topped with a white roll, I’m pretty sure it’s resting place will be in my arteries.
I enjoyed the atmosphere and the cafe’s lack of pretense, but a cafe really hits the spot when the food is as enjoyable as much as the atmosphere and energy. A future visit will not be planned, but if I end up here again, I hope the bad taste left in my mouth will have gone the way of the dinousaurs.
It just so happened that L.A. is now officially Japan-infused. With Japanophiles popping up across the city’s landscape, and since L.A. is a bonified hub of the cutting-edge, welcome Royal/T cafe; a capitalization on the maid cafe trend of Tokyo’s Akihabara district. Although the little cafe off of Washington Boulevard is a bit more art gallery oriented, its novelty is enough to bring an influx of curious patrons and manga maniacs alike. However, nothing can replace the original design. See Here…STOP THE MAIDS!!
Modeled after cafes in Tokyo’s Akihabara district, Royal/T garnered a lot of attention, as it is the first of it’s kind in this big city.
Travel + Leisure reports, “One of the quirkiest phenomena in Japan has come to L.A. with the opening of Royal/T in Culver City (8910 Washington Blvd., Culver City; 310/599-6300; royal-t.org). The 10,000-square-foot, Japanese-themed space houses a contemporary art gallery, a shop with artist-designed toys and clothing—and a café where the waitresses are dressed up as French maids. ROYAL/T, owned by Whitney Museum Council member Susan Hancock, was conceived as a 21st-century “guerrilla” version of a traditional museum. None of the art in the gallery is for sale, and the café features Japanese comfort-food dishes such as tomato-rice omelets and macha milk. The debut installation, “Just Love Me,” includes works by Yoshitomo Nara and Takashi Murakami, from Hancock’s private collection.”
Oh pick up lines. Let me count the ways. When you go out with the girls (and I mean friends, not the nicknamed duo that reside on a chest), it is inevitably seen as an open invitation to men; especially after downing liquid courage. Unfortunately for the unwitting male counterpart, nothing makes me go frigid faster than a drunk hit. Inevitable it is, so what better way to brave the waters than at a local Russian bar.
One Sunday night, I hop into my car and hit up Lubitsch, a tucked away bar in my West Hollywood neighborhood. The ivy-covered entrance leads to a stone walled patio and is guarded by the usual bouncer, but with the typical LA twist – as our bouncer, whose name we learn is Daniel – is wearing black skinny jeans and Italian boots. More nerdy emo than buff gym rat, and a lot more fun than either. Two rooms, illuminated only by a handful of orbs and lamps around the bar make you feel like you walked into Eastern Promises, and you’re hoping there’s not a body in the back. This place is dark, and I’m digging it. If you want to hide from your friends, here’s good place to do it.
NO SAINTS IN L.A. 