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Thursday, September 02 2010
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Restaurant Reviews
A Table at Rao's
by Nancy Ellison   

raooutside.jpgWe all know the few things in our lives that give us status above and beyond our own reality.

Our dog, Buzz (an apricot poodle that bears an uncanny resemblance to Rod Stewart), always attracts attention, is far more famous than we are – and prettier! Telling people I am a union member (OK, it’s SAG) has always given me a certain social gravitas among my political friends. Doing a book on Richard Wagner has made me a “distinguished visitor” at the American Academy in Berlin… not a way in which I am normally described. I have a relative – John Singleton Mosby – that brings Southerners to their knees in a show of respect when his name is mentioned, but white smoke rises when people find out Bill and I have a Monday night table at Rao’s – the impossible dream. Or, as they might say when you call for a reservation, FUGGEDABOUDIT!

Monday night at Rao’s isn’t your average Monday night somewhere else. Rao’s, in Spanish Harlem and in the same family since 1896, with only ten tables and one seating is ‘famiglia’, and as such is closed over the weekend. Monday night is its weekly re-birth and the crowd is always gleeful, festive and full of song. (Yes they sing at Rao’s … but that is another story.) Monday night regulars, besides the characters that look like the cast from Goodfellas – and sometimes are, have included Sonny Grasso (the real cop from the French Connection) sportswriter, Dick Schaap (when Dick passed away Billy Crystal asked in his eulogy who would inherit the table), Ron Perlman, Woody Allen, and Judge Eddie Torres (who wrote Carlito’s Way and Q and A). Also seen Monday nights, Sophia Loren, Senator Alphonse D’Amato, Mike Wallace, Sharon Stone, Martin Scorsese, Don Rickles, Pierce Brosnan – the list is endless.

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My Mom and The Salty Dog Cafe
by Laura Johnson   

saltydog2.jpgThe Salty Dog Cafe in Hilton Head, SC is not your typical place to take Mom for Mother's Day. However, I think all Mothers should eat exactly what they want on their big day and nothing foots the bill for my Mom more than The Salty Dog.

It's located at South Beach Marina on the island of Hilton Head in South Carolina and conveniently located next door to our beach house. It's a working marina, with lots of fishing boats, and everything else from an old fashioned ice cream shop to a bait and tackle shop. There's several restaurants, outdoor bars, musicians at night. But the big attraction is The Salty Dog Cafe.

Growing up, we rented a house there in the summer and I remember the 2 hour waits we would endure just to eat there and buy a t-shirt. We'd make a night of it and spend the evening strolling around the marina, listening to music, eating ice-cream and hoping to spot 'Jake,' the great-grandson of the legendary 'Salty Dog.' Jake was a fisherman's dog and one night, many years ago their boat capsized and Jake paddled for 3 days and nights with his owner hanging onto his collar until they reached the shore. Sounds like a bit of a folktale to me but it sure has sold a lot of t-shirts.

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Huckleberry Cafe
by Rachel Parker   

zoe-nathan-and-josh-loeb.jpg With a sensibility learned from fairy tales, one would naturally expect a baker, the conjurer of butter, sugar and fruits, flour and spices, to be a kind and gentle person. Peering over a row of story-book cakes and pies, the baker, always wrapped in a white apron with a dusting of flour, desires only the customer’s enjoyment of what has been produced by “her” skilled hands and generous heart.

That fairy tale baker has come to Santa Monica with the appearance of Zoe Nathan, she of the mile-wide smile, generous heart, and magical hands. Zoe and husband Josh Loeb are the proprietors of Huckleberry (1014 Wilshire Blvd. Santa Monica CA) and Rustic Canyon Restaurant and Wine Bar just across the street from Huckleberry. Since Zoe begins baking each day at 3AM, she is not always peering over the display case filled with her efforts, although one morning I glimpsed her dancing behind the pastry board. The display case at Huckleberry makes for its own worthy peering and astonishing, addictive eating. Every day it is a bit different depending on the availability of farmer’s market fruits and Zoe’s whims.

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Gold Class Cinemas
by Laraine Newman   

berkeley.jpgDuring the Great Depression, Hollywood did its part by providing people with the ultimate escape. It didn’t try to provide its audience with everyday situations that just reinforced their misery. Sullivan’s Travels made that point brilliantly. Instead, Hollywood gave them fantasy and opulence. The glamour of the Busby Berkley movies, the optimism of Shirley Temple; all these movies were a respite from the bleakness that awaited them when the lights came up.

Nobody wants to admit that the country might be facing a depression. At the very least, right now, times are tough. That’s why, when I tell you about Gold Class Cinemas, you must understand the spirit in which my husband Chad and I went. First of all, we were invited by our friend Nigel, who is already a member and was very excited to see our reaction to the whole experience.

We were to see Iron Man 2 and the theatre was in Pasadena. When I went online to check it out, I saw that there were, what looked like big orange Bark-a-loungers with smiling people resting with cocktails.  Hmmm.

 

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The Great Greek
by Lisa Dinsmore   

greatgreek.jpgEverybody has them. Those neighborhood joints you walk/drive by a million times but never go into. For no good reason. The place looks nice enough and clearly has customers, but you always just pass it by. We've lived in the Valley for over a decade, within walking distance of the Great Greek and we never went until last month. Our friends, S and K (who used to live nearby) were horrified. Turns out the GG is one of their all time favorite places. Or so they claimed. You'd think if that were true they would have drug us there long before the night K was due to leave the country for an extended length of time. Of course, it was the one restaurant she just had to eat at one more time before she left, so that has to count for something. I guess there isn't a lot of Greek food where she's going.

So we strapped on our sneakers and off we went. Not only would we burn off some calories on the way there and back, but the Man would get to enjoy his wine without worry. I, of course, checked out the menu before we left, but we decided to let our friends choose the food, since they were the experts. Since I have very little experience drinking Greek wine, I relied on our extremely happy and helpful waiter's advice. He has expensive tastes, but also claimed that if we didn't like it, he'd buy the bottle from us and then finish it after his shift. I'm pretty sure he meant it.

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