I love nothing more than escaping to the West Coast for a week of bliss and being remiss in the sun, so I zipped over to Los Angeles earlier this week and am now lapping up the sights and sounds.
So many new discoveries, so much to tell. The glamour, the excitement, the traffic!
But let’s start with my one true love, dining.
Last night found me happily ensconced at Cecconi’s (pictured), the very chic eatery in West Hollywood that was once the site of Morton’s, the long-running home to the Vanity Fair magazine Oscars party. The uber-talented, Paris-based interior designer India Mahdavi (a personal favorite of mine, she “did up” Mexico City’s Condesa DF hotel) has created an Italian-sleek décor that mixes black-and-white stone floors with brilliant bolts of turquoise upholstery in the form of dining chairs and dramatic bar stools. The whole effect is very cool and soothing yet decidedly continental and classy. I took a seat upon the air-conditioned terrace and took note of the who’s-who coming and going from behind my stylish new Face à Face sunshades as I also perused the menu and ordered a libation to ease my work-a-day cares.
“Garçon, a glass of the Antinori rosé, and pronto!” I practically chortled, and the “garçon” promptly obliged, plunking down a glass of the pale pink honey (my summer staple, as everyone knows) within seconds.
Goodness, how I so appreciate an attentive waiter, n’est-ce pas?
From there, it was time to savor Cecconi’s splendiferous wares.
Oh, the divine prosciutto San Daniele pizza sprinkled with peppery, spiky arugula and thick tiles of Parmesan cheese (pictured). And how about the tender grilled octopus (pictured) drizzled with lemon and accompanied by tangy capers sent me into paroxysms of pleasure.
“Madre de Dios!” I was heard to yell, perhaps thinking I was speaking Italian in my transfixed state, but rather I was cursing in Spanish. Ah, well, so much for my polyglot perambulations. I bellowed loud enough for a nearby movie executive blathering into his BlackBerry to shoot me an evil eye.
Ah, well. One shouldn’t be on a cell phone in a fine-dining establishment, so hooey, I say.
And then onwards and upwards: I supped upon the wildly tender Barolo-braised short ribs—falling from the bone—and fried zucchini sticks finished off with the profiteroles with vanilla ice cream and chocolate sauce.
Gorgeous and glamorous! A truly magical evening upon Melrose Avenue.
I love LA.