













occupying the tiny intersection where fashion and carbs meet
One last dispatch from LA.
Everyone knows the stories about the booze- and drug-filled parties at Chateau Marmont, but now it seems Bar Marmont has taken to actually serving drugs, because their gougeres must be cut with crack. Otherwise there's no way to explain why they were pounced upon like an illicit, jones-for substance that has to be quickly consumed before it's confiscated. Granted, we had to wait over a half an hour for the gougeres to appear after ordering from our kinda spacey waitress in white go-go boots, but they were worth the wait. Piping hot, with a crisp exterior and fluffy within, these fancy cheese buns are a must-order. And they go beautifully with wine and cocktails.
The extensive menu is easier to navigate if you've learned a few tricks from the Spotted Pig. Boozy bacon prunes are a variation on the Spotted Pig's Devils on Horseback, but without any pear within. I missed that contrast in texture, but we loved the sinfully candied taste of the boozy bacon prunes. Smoked trout with creme fraiche in potato crisps sounded like a reinterpretation of the Spotted Pig's fabulously fishy roll mops, but Bar Marmont's were comparatively meh. The ingredients just didn't hang together as well, and the crisps weren't crisp.
Perhaps even more illicit in LA than drugs are fried foods, especially in a respectable establishment like this one. It's one thing to get caught in a late-night drunken drive-thru to In-N-Out burger a la Paris Hilton, quite another to order a host of fried things while completely in control of your senses. In this way, Bar Marmont brings something new to the LA dining scene: The food is both unhealthy but upscale in a land of either-or dining. The fried squid, a calamari-like crowd pleaser, is paired with a delicious horseradish cream sauce that way exceeds the culinary requirements of bar food. On the flip side, even the fish items are made with some kind of fatty thing like butter or chorizo.
Mon Ami's pork chop was herbally inflected and sweet, perhaps a little overdone, but you never know if a kitchen is cooking pork that way so as to avoid freaking people out. The corn fritters on the side were fantastic, light and barely glazed with honey. These seem to be purely Spence's; they have no Spotted Pig precedent.
Across the table Fellow WASP tried the rock shrimp po boy and pronounced it good. The rest of us had already had way too much fried squid to sample it.
There was only one thing wrong: my "damn good burger" didn't come out with the rest of the entrees. It took several minutes and lots of flagging to retrieve Go Go Boots. The burger was going to "be right out." Did the order even make it to the kitchen the first time around? Worse, when it finally did arrive, it wasn't cooked correctly. The kitchen had rushed it off the grill, delivering it very rare instead of medium-rare. This violated a cardinal rule of service. If you're going to mess up an order, mess it up only once, not twice.
Possibly one of my favorite Page Six items ever appeared today, a report on the Style.com book party for Candy Pratts Price. It reminded me of a sticker I saw in a cab last night, right. (The cab driver totally freaked out when I took a picture inside his cab. I might distribute it, thus enabling other people to see the inside of his cab!) In Page Six, we learn that at the Style.com party, guests like Zac Posen and Doo-Ri Chung were served a menu of champagne, almonds and cheese sticks. That's all. No doubt it was some anorexic underling who planned the party, not Anna herself, as the Post implies. As the spy notes, "Everything was white, and there was no bar, no branding - just emaciated models eating cheese sticks."
Men are wearing jeans that look like women's, jeans that emphasize the waist and hips.
Vests on women...
...and men. Steven Alan was long on vests this past spring, while I shorted them. Guess who was right? Not surprisingly, the fashion designer.
Newsboy caps still signal fall.
In LA adults are dressing like kids and vice versa. It wasn't until this guy walked by that I realized he was about 13, out with his mom and his sister. Tween girls are also wearing designer clothes and carrying designer bags. The only barrier between childhood and adulthood now seems to be clothing size.

A chic salesgirl at Olive & Bette's. I like her pirate-y headband and patent booties.
It's the height of lunch hour at the Milky Way, a kosher dairy restaurant in Los Angeles, and the proprietress is making the rounds, stopping at tables to greet the diners. It would be like any other power lunch scene in LA, but the woman making the rounds is Steven Spielberg's mother Leah Adler.
For the goyim among us, a kosher dairy restaurant is one that serves dairy products and fish but no meat or fowl. Call it the flip side of a Jewish deli, but the atmosphere at the Milky Way is anything but deli. Located on a stretch of West Pico populated with kosher meat markets, veggie stands, and a bakery, the white stucco space within is lit by skylights, decorated with potted palms, and ringed with banquette seating in deep red leather. Only rarely are you reminded of the celebrity connection: The restroom contains a poster of Schindler's List.
If you want to know what cabbage rolls are really supposed to taste like, try them at Leah Adler's place. Crunchy, slightly sour and topped with a tangy sauerkraut tomato sauce, these were fresher and more complex than any I'd tasted in Eastern European themed East Village restaurants. The "secret blend" of vegetables inside seemed to include dried cherries, carrots, rice, walnuts, and a hint of cinnamon. These cabbage rolls were more Fertile Crescent than Borscht Belt.
The Milky Way's cheese blintzes were some of the best pastries I've had in a while. Light, airy, but rich cheese, crepes pan-fried in butter, and the slightest perfume of almonds made these an excellent treat.
You guessed it - back to LA.












