sunny los angeles

But nothing beats the weather, eh?

L.A., nice weather, most of the time, sure. But I am beyond tired of talking about it. Honestly, I'd prefer more rain (not just because of the drought); and, my gosh, I dream of a legitimate wintery chill. Basically, I miss the rejuvenating nature of seasons. Pun intended. What's more, I balk at the implication that clear sunshine is Los Angeles' most redeeming quality. It's dreary today, for the record.

{The Last Bookstore, for instance}

A friend of mine from the Midwest once told me he reveled in the misguided disdain that tries to characterize this city. What he meant, I think, is that it's a pretty incredible privilege to have gotten to know a place so quickly misunderstood. Los Angeles is not easily defined, neither literally nor figuratively, and it's sure as hell challenging to get a ahold of. This whole nother beast might as well be our beautiful little secret.

Before my time in New York, I saw City of Gold. It was fantastic for all the reasons above; and because, in telling Jonathan Gold's story, it celebrated the democratization of food criticism as well as the pure wealth of "culinary adventure that, he argues, are unique to the area in their proximity and commingled global influences." It reminded me of how much I appreciate L.A. for being L.A. And with that, I give you an introductory guide I created for a colleague who recently relocated to establish our DTLA office...

DINE
Best group meal: Korean BBQ (Koreatown)
Eat more ramen: Mitsuwa Marketplace (Mar Vista) or Jinya Ramen Bar (Mid-Wilshire & other locations)
Local date spots: Barbrix (Silver Lake), Cliff’s Edge (Silver Lake), Little Dom’s (Los Feliz)
My favorite “L.A. restaurant”: Eveleigh (West Hollywood)
Restaurants worth the hype: Birch Restaurant (Hollywood), Bestia (Arts District), Faith & Flower (DTLA), Pok Pok LA (Chinatown), République (Mid-City/La Brea), Sugarfish (multiple locations)
Tacos, part 1: Guisados (Echo Park); Tacos, part 2.
The best in Mexican-American burritos: Al & Bea’s (Boyle Heights)
Try the original French-dip sandwich at: Cole’s (DTLA) or Phillipe’s (Chinatown)
P.S. If you go to Cole’s, consider the speakeasy in the back with great cocktails and live jazz
For your bf: pancakes.

DRINK
Best hipster cocktails: Tenant of the Trees (Silver Lake)
Best beer & wine in the neighborhood: El Prado (Echo Park) / 1642 Beer and Wine (HiFi)
Best rooftop bar: Mama Shelter (Hollywood)
Drink beer and play board games: Sunset Beer Company (Echo Park)
Drink beer and play arcade games: Eighty Two (Arts District)
Get to know tequila & mezcal: El Carmen (Mid-City) or La Cuevita (Highland Park)
Have a martini at an “Old Hollywood” bar: Bar Marmont, Formosa Cafe, Musso & Frank Grill
Priceless DTLA views (& pricey cocktails): the Ace Hotel and Perch
Stay caffeinated.

HIKE
Elysian Park: West Loop, Angels Point
Griffith Park: Ferndell Trail, Mount Lee Trail, etc.
Malibu: Tuna Canyon,Corral Canyon, etc.

DO
Add to your library with gems from our neighborhood bookshop: Stories & Books Café (and Skylight!)
Best view of L.A. on the East Side: The Griffith Observatory
Best view of L.A. on the West Side: The Getty Center
Bike in Santa Monica; and in Long Beach
Check out local live music: The Echo and Echoplex
Go to a cheap comedy show: Upright Citizens Brigade
Museums worth the drive: The Autry (Griffith Park), LACMA (Mid-City/Miracle Mile), Natural History Museum (South L.A.), Petersen Automotive Museum (Mid-City/Miracle Mile), The Getty Villa (Malibu)
Pick your beach. My favorites: Cabrillo Beach (San Pedro), El Matador (Malibu), Manhattan Beach
Rent a boat or go paddleboarding: Marina Del Rey
Reserve free tickets: The Broad (DTLA)
Shop at the best farmers markets:

Monday-Thursday: The Original Farmers Market

Friday: Echo Park Farmers Market

Sunday: Atwater Village Farmers Market

Stroll the Venice Beach Boardwalk (because, weird) and dine at Gjusta ($) and/or Gjelina ($$)
Spend an afternoon in Pasadena: Huntington Library & Gardens, Norton Simon Museum, Magnolia House
Walk/shop on the East Side: Los Feliz, Silver Lake, Highland Park
SaveSave

être dans son assiette

The weekend before last, I went home to New York. It was my first "just because" visit, a getaway simply planned in order to fully enjoy family, friends, and fall. And it was delightful, truly. For the first time in a long time, I appreciated everything about my hometown. I also got along with my parents better than ever have, which I can only account to a culmination of maturity and therapy. Le sigh.

And this is all relevant because visiting Paris was not dissimilar. I saw the city with new eyes and found myself deeply moved by the company of those who'd supported, mentored, and cared for me there. In one of the rare afternoons I spent alone, I retraced familiar steps with a heightened consciousness, attempting to experience my new self in the "same old". Talk about romanticizing saudade...

During those hours à moi même, I luxuriated in the specialness that is intimately knowing a place so superficially celebrated; easily recognized, but less often known. What a privilege and a mindf*** to feel at home in New York, Paris, Los Angeles.

But back to Paris for now. That evening, after the MAM, I reconvened with Lorelei and Rachael at a new-to-us cave à vins in the 12th arrondissement. We replayed our hours (and months) apart with the pleasure that is wine, beer... and a cheese plate. Quelle horreur ! Because, how defiantly American of us to have cheese as an appetizer. I'll admit it was my idea,  and it was perfect.

Three hours later, I sat at table with four desserts and an empty bottle of red wine. Mes parents françaises had come into Paris to dine with me--bringing my gratitude to a dangerous high. Patrick leaned over to ask how I was really doing in L.A. "I'm good, better," I responded, nearly brought to tears by his unwavering kindness. After everything since I'd last seen him, I was liberated by that truth.

bonne journée

The last time I spent a day in Paris with absolutely nothing to do but enjoy, it was 2008. Seven years later I found myself with the same great fortune, with knowledge of the city's geography and the company of best friends. 'Twas so much more than "a good day".

{A croissant from Du Pain et Des Idées & coffee from Ten Belles on the Canal}

{"Elle s'appelait Jackie" and a brasserie lunch}

{Meandering through the old neighborhood}

{Happy hour at Cafe de l'Industrie}

{Dinner at Au Passage with Rachael & Lorelei}

{Red House nightcaps}

As you may have gathered from the lack of text above, there are few words to describe this day. It was coming home to people who love you for you and receiving a hug from the strange, beautiful place you've been forever molded by and that sigh. We ate and drank well, but it was the ease with which we wandered that I savored most. (Insert all the warm, fuzzy feelings and exuberant inspiration here). And so, I cried that night in Paris' warm embrace; one of those tipsy "let it all out" kind of cries, because life is more than pretty pictures with the most perfect light (that Paname has so gracefully mastered). Man, oh man... how I'd missed that light.

then paris, of course

The ride from Amsterdam to Paris was a long one; exceptionally unpleasant, too. The train's air conditioner stopped working halfway through; the conductor stopped the train in an attempt to restore it; he was unsuccessful, four times over; our arrival time was delayed by one hour and countless beads of sweat; fin. I hadn't thought I could be any more eager to be in Paris again. I was.

Then, once we'd settled into our 10e airbnb and freshened up, the euphoria set in. Rachael, Lorelei, and I were reunited in/with Paris.

After much deliberation, we decided to start with an apéritif at Rosa Bonheur sur Seine. For the record, I hadn't known this place existed--it was one of many bars/restaurants that had come to be after my move back to the United States. Also worth mentioning: my first visit to the original Rosa Bonheur marked my first night out as a Paris resident. Our chosen happy hour spot was, thus, perfectly "full circle". And as we discussed how wonderfully ordinary it felt to be in the City of Lights again, over a casual spread of charcuterie, cheese, and rosé, Rachael and I felt a push. A man sitting on our bench but with the group at the table behind us was making room for himself with complete disregard for our presence and entitlement. We laughed. Yes, sir, we were back.

Being there, for me, was like one deep and restorative sigh. There was an innate sense of comfort and belonging; an "of course I'm here in this city with these two". That first night, we went from Rosa Bonheur sur Seine, to Mary Celeste, to Glass, to Le Grand Pigalle. We reveled in the relief of the familiar. We clinked glasses to Paris, and to us.