Los Angeles

Merrick and I had the honor of attending a costume jewelry auction at Decades hosted by the original Zoebot herself—Rachel Zoe. I die! Events don’t get much better than that. The people watching was on another level. Dresses from every decade, necklaces bigger than my head; heels for which the word “high” doesn’t even begin to describe it; and Hermes bracelets on every wrist in the house.

As amaazing as the outfits were, the hors d’oeuvres were offensively wafer sized and even at that scale, the pin thin socialites were turning their noses up at them. The server looked shocked that I even took one and, god forbid, ate it! It was tuna tartar with wasabi caviar by the way and it was delicious (despite its miniscule size). Merrick had a vision of throwing a Sprinkles cupcake into the crowd and watching the emaciated socialites knock each other out with their Chanel handbags as they fought for the red velvet treat.

Don’t get us wrong. Merrick and I love skinny as much as the next Angelenos. Merrick practically coined the term manorexia and I may or may not be responsible for the offensively amoral www.thisiswhyyoureskinny.com blog. But even we had to pig out after that event.

Greenspans is tiny and sandwiched (no pun intended) in between a bar and some tacky Melrose clothing store on the old Tommy Tang strip of Melrose, where Evan Kleiman opened Angeli Cafe all those years ago. Back then all of the good actors in town could be found in Milton Katselas’s Mon and Wed night class at the Zepher Theater just across the street, and Chianti was down the block serving up perfect stracciatella soup. That stretch was something back in its day. (Pardon the walk back 30 years).

Well, seasoned chef Eric Greenspan’s Grilled Cheese is going to bring that block back. It’s good. It’s real good.

My friend Sandy emailed me last week. “Just came back from a place that’s right up your alley”. My friend Sandy is a woman in the know and she certainly knows what alleys I frequent.

She’s also very discriminating and not prone to false alarms or wasting anyone’s time, so my interest was piqued. When I heard the name, Greenspan’s Grilled Cheese, I was more than curious, I was out the door. Not being a lady who lunches, my friend Sandy was a bit surprised, and I hope delighted, that I emailed her straight back asking for a lunch date.

Though I've lived in Los Angeles for two decades, I still don't consider myself an Angeleno. Mostly because we rarely do anything that's considered interesting or hip in this vast and ever-changing metropolis.  We have our own wine cellar – well it will be someday, but right now it's an office with cases of wine stacked in it – and a kick-ass Rock Band set-up, so we're pretty much self-entertained. It's hard to pay for drinks when you have so much waiting for you at home. However, every once in awhile I feel the need to explore our horizons and wander out into the City. The Man goes along with "the plan" because he has no real choice in the matter. Putting up a fuss just wastes energy in a fight you aren't going to win. Lately, our excursions have centered around vintage Hollywood venues, which are regaining their popularity due to an "old is cool" mentality sweeping the city. We're not only old-fashioned, we like our drinks that way too, so the new classic cocktail culture is giving us a reason to step out once again. Being a fan of Hollywood history, I am slightly embarrassed to admit that there are many old school, infamous places I've never been to like Musso & Franks, The Polo Lounge, Chateau Marmont and Spago. Didn't have any money when I moved here. Still find it hard to spend $12 on a martini. There is however, one place I can now cross off the list: Yamashiro.

Headaches are the worst. And if you don't catch them right when they start, they're hard to cure. I've had one for four days. My mom told me to drink lemonade.

Lemonade?

I've taken naps, sat in dark rooms, taken Aleve, even taken Fiorinal. What the eff is lemonade gonna do?

But I was desperate, and unable to operate a motor vehicle, so I walked to Cabbage Patch.

I told them my mom sent me and was convinced they could cure my headache. As if that was a normal thing to say to a cafe owner.

He told me of course they could and prescribed French lentils (which were beautifully presented with avocado and drizzled oil and tasted like they could purify your soul) and told me the mint lemonade was on Dr. Cabbage Patch.