So I know I’m about two weeks too late. Remember the post about me realizing that I’m not so young anymore? Well before bumping and grinding and then fizzling out at The Roosevelt, the girls decided to have dinner at BLD (located at 7460 Beverly Blvd in Los Angeles). The initials stand for Breakfast, Lunch and Dinner – the name alone tells you this place is all about the food. And we could tell. The décor is very simple yet inviting. No shellacked dark wood floors or faux marble that you can barely slide to your table on in your heels. To the contrary it reminded me more of the housing of an art gallery in the Eastern Market district of Detroit. Simple so that you can focus on what’s important. In this case, it was the food.
I chose the wrong week to go meat free (I’d eaten chicken twice a day for 3 weeks straight and decided that I hand a flesh hangover). Tuesday nights just so happen to be fried chicken night. Initially I didn’t care that I couldn’t indulge. Honestly Los Angeles restaurants version of fried chicken is bare bones. It’s chicken and it’s fried. Eat up. Sooooo not the case at BLD. My Strozzapreti Pasta with goat cheese and grilled vegetables was pretty amazing. Even Giselle and Liza oozed allover their clams. But Kendra, who clearly knew better than the rest of us, got the night’s special.
The fried chicken breasts (they were far from stingy with the helpings) came along with collard greens, cornbread and a heap of cheese grits. I’m always shocked by how many upscale SoCal haunts specialize in the southern treat. Anyway, according to the girls the chicken was juicy and marinated from tip to tip. Apparently the breading was to die for. I sampled the grits and nearly jolted right out of my seat! The food was so good we had the chef come out so that we could personally compliment her.
The wine was good, the service was great and the food was even better. If ever you’re in L.A. and looking for good food without all the fanfare, give BLD a try.
Last night the girls decided to do dinner and dancing. First stop: BLD (review of BLD in tomorrow’s Singular Opinion Feature) for dinner and drinks then off to The Honey Collective party at Teddy’s at the Hollywood Roosevelt. Now, being that it’s a holiday week and there are tons of parties around town I initially thought I might club it up every night this week.
But I’ve come to a realization: I’m getting old! DJ Rashida is known for spinning great dance music so Kendra, Giselle, Liza and I were all set to “dance the night away.’
Well, we headed over there at about 11. A few “entertainer” (Raheem Devaughn, Farnsworth Bentley and Will.I.Am – or his evil twin) sightings and one more round of drinks later we were all shits and giggles and dancing like it was 1999. But it’s not 1999. It’s 2008, we’re 9 years older, and our bodies know it.
Liza was the first to fizzle as she decided to lean her two step up against a pole and just sway. After doing the take-a-break-from-dancing and quick club walk through (you know, just to see and be seen) we ended up in the VIP amongst some of the most comfy, irresistible father’s library leather sofas ever. Liza and Kendra gave in but Giselle and I pressed on. But I was rapidly losing the good fight. As if in slow motion, my gyrating slowed down to a mere hand wave back and forth. I simply couldn’t go on. I tried, but just couldn’t. However, Giselle seemed to have gotten this radical burst of energy. She was the last diva dancing. Ironic too, because earlier that day as we chatted over IM she lamented that she knew she was too old to try and dance the night away, and might have to call it a night after dinner. Surrrreee. It was all a ploy.
Sad. But, in my defense, 4 inch heels, 2 hours of dancing and being just shy of 30 is NOT a good combination. Ladies, take heed. Learn from my mistakes.You may look young, but Mother Nature knows better.
So while you think of the good old days when you actually had to be put out of the club, enjoy my Boogie Nights throwback.
Remember that old 80s hit? No? Well here’s the video:
Though L.A. is supposed to be the “it” place to be, very often the party scene sucks. Most people are thrilled by the possibility of being in the same spot as a celebrity on any given night. Not I. Nope old L.A. veterans like me (after you’ve been here four years you can almost say you’re “from” here) are so over seeing celebs and having paprazzi blocking traffic all the time. So I avoid the scene if possible. But then, everywhere I go ends up being the scene. Hmmm.
Anyhow, a couple of weeks ago I had one of the best party-from-day-into-nights that I’ve had in a while. Giselle, of course, was down for the debauchery and tagged along. Here’s a quick run down
