Let me tell you about last week.
On Wednesday I had one of the most delicious things I've ever eaten. Candy and I had drinks at Big Bar prior to dining at The Alcove. I had the Chaton de Mer, a precious looking cocktail with St. Germain and Sailor Jerry's and some other nonsense. It may have tasted a little soapy but I can't remember anymore. The memorable part was the Pig Dates a Goat, which were dates, stuffed with goat cheese and wrapped in bacon and skewered on little toothpicks. I don't enjoy eating dates alone because they're so sweet, but I would enjoy them sweet and savory, stuffed with soft warm goat cheese and wrapped in crispetty bacon, all day long.
On Thursday I dined with Mr. Thum, The Eternal Bachelor, and associated pals at a truly hole-in-the-wall Filipino Barbecue restaurant on Temple, near the old secret speakeasy that used to serve alcohol into the wee morning hours until it became the worst-kept secret in town and was shut down. After stuffing ourselves with coconut beef and sausages and sugar-crusted cornbread we walked to a beer place, half bar, half store, run by a friend of theirs. We walked the scenic route through a part of Angeleno Heights that I never knew existed. It's a historic district on Carroll Avenue, populated by a collection of august old Victorians manors from the eighteenth century. The streets were lit by antique, period-appropriate streetlamps. When we had wandered out of the neighborhood, the area became familiar and we had arrived on a raggedy stretch of Sunset Boulevard, lo and behold, across from The Short Stop, the mangy little bar that I have the most tenderest feelings for. But we didn't go to Short Stop, we went to the beer place, where we tasted every beer the taps had to offer.
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On Wednesday I had one of the most delicious things I've ever eaten. Candy and I had drinks at Big Bar prior to dining at The Alcove. I had the Chaton de Mer, a precious looking cocktail with St. Germain and Sailor Jerry's and some other nonsense. It may have tasted a little soapy but I can't remember anymore. The memorable part was the Pig Dates a Goat, which were dates, stuffed with goat cheese and wrapped in bacon and skewered on little toothpicks. I don't enjoy eating dates alone because they're so sweet, but I would enjoy them sweet and savory, stuffed with soft warm goat cheese and wrapped in crispetty bacon, all day long.
On Thursday I dined with Mr. Thum, The Eternal Bachelor, and associated pals at a truly hole-in-the-wall Filipino Barbecue restaurant on Temple, near the old secret speakeasy that used to serve alcohol into the wee morning hours until it became the worst-kept secret in town and was shut down. After stuffing ourselves with coconut beef and sausages and sugar-crusted cornbread we walked to a beer place, half bar, half store, run by a friend of theirs. We walked the scenic route through a part of Angeleno Heights that I never knew existed. It's a historic district on Carroll Avenue, populated by a collection of august old Victorians manors from the eighteenth century. The streets were lit by antique, period-appropriate streetlamps. When we had wandered out of the neighborhood, the area became familiar and we had arrived on a raggedy stretch of Sunset Boulevard, lo and behold, across from The Short Stop, the mangy little bar that I have the most tenderest feelings for. But we didn't go to Short Stop, we went to the beer place, where we tasted every beer the taps had to offer.
in the day:
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1 comment:
jealous jealous. i want meat. i want a princess house. why do you do this to me.
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