October 26, 2005 |
ONCE upon a time in Southern California, there was a thing called a fancy restaurant. The chef had pretensions, the service was haughty, the decor stuffy, the check heart-stopping -- and the experience altogether intimidating. You probably thought restaurants like this were ancient history, especially in Los Angeles. I certainly did. But that was before I experienced a few meals at the Belvedere, the restaurant in the Peninsula Beverly Hills hotel.
CALIFORNIA | LOCAL
June 8, 2001 |
Earlier this week, several readers asserted that a 99 Cents Only ad (see accompanying) was redundant, pointing out that a broom is obviously perfect for sweeping. I suspect they were not sports fans and therefore were unfamiliar with the term "sweep"--meaning, for one team to win a series without losing a game. Of course, inasmuch as the Lakers succumbed ingloriously to the Philadelphia 76ers in the first game of the NBA finals, the joke in the ad has been rendered inoperative. Unless . . .
CALIFORNIA | LOCAL
April 17, 1986 |
The grunion were running the other night on the sand across from the new The Boathouse restaurant in Pacific Beach. As the silvery fish frantically belly-flopped across the beach, they seemed oblivious to everything but nature's firm decree that they be fruitful and multiply. But an observer looking down from the restaurant's terrace could not help but wonder if the grunion, split, breaded and sauteed, might not have been superior to one of The Boathouse's $19.95 orders of breaded abalone.
June 14, 1987 |
It was, I believe, Michael Caine as Alfie who once announced that "Everybody's got a fiddle." He was not, I hasten to explain, proposing that violins were ubiquitous. He was using fiddle in the sense of a swindle, a lifting-of-greenbacks-from-the-till. The restaurant business, of course has long been sort of a fiddle heaven; the possibilities are positively a la carte .
June 1, 1989 |
J.J. Wall seems like a very nice man. And if that sounds like the kind of comment a mother would make to her daughter about a pleasant but unremarkable and slightly boring suitor, you're reading the message loud and clear. Actually, headlining Tuesday at the Irvine Improvisation, Wall turned in a much stronger set than in past appearances there. But that's pretty relative. No one's going to accuse Wall, even at his best, of being on the cutting edge of stand-up. For one thing, much of his material is bland, tedious and unfunny.
June 1, 1985 |
A waiter, taking a break the other night at Alex Tambellini's downtown restaurant, sat at the bar and talked to a diner at a nearby table. "We got the worst hockey team," the waiter said of the Pittsburgh Penguins, who lost about $2.5 million last season and may be sold and moved to another city. "Yeah, but we got voted the No. 1 city," the patron answered, referring to a Rand McNally survey that was published in March.
November 30, 1986 |
Koutoubia, 2116 Westwood Blvd., West Los Angeles, (213) 475-0729. Beer and wine. Street parking. Dinner only, Tuesday-Sunday. All major credit cards accepted. Dinner for two, food only, $30-$50. There I was in Marseille, having a perfectly satisfying meal when the man at the next table leaned over and said abruptly, "You ordered all wrong." "But I like fish soup," I was saying before it occured to me that my meal was none of his business. The man shook his head impatiently.
December 6, 1987 |
To anyone who's ever tippled tepid soup, the term world's fastest waiter seems at least slightly oxymoronic. It's Roger Bourban's title, though--has been for years--and one he is proudly defending this morning. Catch him if you can; annual 10K waiters' race starts at Beverly Hills High at 8:57 a.m., contestants in appropriate regalia and toting a full bottle on a tray. Bourban, 39, is no longer a waiter (he's GM and maitre d' at Nicky Blair's on Sunset), possibly no longer as swift.
May 21, 1989 |
Claude, who is 82 and hungry, wonders if six oysters apiece will be enough. "Maybe we should each have nine," he offers. I agree. He thinks for a moment, squinting at the small, separate shellfish menu we have been given along with the regular carte . "And maybe we should have some bouquets roses , too," he adds, referring to the delicious little rosy-pink prawns that are so abundant in France this time of year. I agree again. The waiter appears. We order six plump Belons, the pride of coastal Brittany; six Belondines, similar but raised in fresh water; six salty, smooth-shelled plates from Holland; and what an American Midwesterner might well have described as a "mess" of the rosy-pink prawns.