C'est Formidable!

I took six years of French in school, spread out between high school and college, and "C'est Formidable!" is the best I can muster to describe our recent HappyHourLA outing at La Poubelle. Sure, I can tell you the finer plot points of "Les Jeux Sont Faits" or quote you a poem by Paul Verlaine, but ask me a simple question in French, and I'll just stare back blankly. In fact, you can actually see the gears in my mind turning as I vainly struggle to come up with an answer.

Oh, I know "C'est formidable" is an apt enough description, and I know that any attempt to dabble in the mother tongue of a place is always appreciated. I just wish I could come up with a little more of a flowery, verbose, and otherwise laudatory description of a place that so tickled our assembled coterie's fancy.

In fact, scratch that. "Formidable" doesn't even come close to describing the many hours we spent at this place -- hours that passed by like minutes, accented (get it?) by fine food, hearty drink, and, much to my chagrin, a Lakers' victory. I guess you can't have it all.

But we came awfully damn close at La Poubelle. Not only did they ensure that we had the virtual run of the place, but the owner, Francoise, made it her personal mission to make sure we were doing well. I like that. You know, feeling like a big man? It's why I almost joined the police force.

But that's a story for another day.

The Vitals: La Poubelle is a great French place tucked away in Franklin Village, and it offers all that you could hope for and more in such a place. It's small-ish, dimly-lit, and has a lively scene out on the smoking patio. The food is outstanding (I recommend heartily the fries, the mussels, and the white pizza) and well-priced for Happy Hour. The drinks are also well-priced ($3 house beers, $5 drafts and well drinks) and well-poured, and you know how important that is to me. In all, it was indeed "tres chouette."

In all, La Poubelle was one of the more satisfying Happy Hour experiences our crew has had to date. It almost had me on the table, belting out "La Marseillaise" while waving the tricoleur.

Almost.