9.28.2009

La Vie Est Belle at La Poubelle



There's an old saying that goes something like "Life is what happens when you're making other plans."

I suppose that's a propos enough, but in my case, it's more like "Life gets in the way of my plans."

For example, I've been planning to post this review for some time now, but certain boring and mundane details of my life have intruded on those plans.

But there's no use in lamenting the past -- the most beautiful life, I've found, is one where excuses are washed away in waves of fine food and drink, in seas of friendship, and clouds of fragrant, delicious smoke.
Such was the case this summer, when Francoise and Jinnie hosted the HappyHourLA crew at La Poubelle, which is, without question, one of my favorite eating and drinking establishment in the Hollywood area.

Why should an unassuming French bistro, open these past forty years, hold such an esteemed place in the heart of this seeker of the good time value? In a word: hospitality.

From the moment you walk through La Poubelle, which looks out on a bustling stretch of Franklin Avenue, you are welcomed as a friend, a family member, a guest, a lover or a co-conspirator -- you can be many things at La Poubelle, but you are never simply a patron.



It's this sort of continental feeling at La Poubelle that makes you want to spend an entire evening there. Sidle, swagger, or swish up to the bar and order that first drink -- no worries, there'll soon be some food to accompany that libation. Have another, or maybe go out onto the patio to let the gloaming envelop you while a comrade and a cigarette keep you company. In a short time, you'll likely be surrounded by your dearest friends (some of whom you may have just met), and it's not outside of the realm of possibility that one of those will be the owner.

Try feeling that vibe at another place around town. I'll be on the patio at La Poubelle, waiting for you to come back and admit that such a place, except the one at which you just arrived, simply does not exist in Los Angeles.

Unique, remarkable, perfect -- that's what we look for in a Five Ring Friday, and that's why we'll be having another at La Poubelle, just as soon as they ask us back. We'll be there.

And I could wax poetic all day about this wonderful place, and the wonderful staff that makes you feel like so much more than a customer, and the owners, Francoise and Jacqueline, whose continental sensibilities imbue the entire operation with a certain je ne sais quois -- it's easy enough to go on and on about. But I think I'll leave it at "thank you" -- thanks to Francoise and Jacqueline, to Jinnie, to Johnny, to Tess, to Janean, to Blue Moon and Peroni, and finally, to everyone who attended. I appreciate your support for our venture. But, like when they say, "Instead of flowers, please give to...," I would say instead of supporting me, support wonderful local establishments like La Poubelle. It's what HappyHourLA is all about -- good food, good drinks, good friends, and great deals.

9.23.2009

.38 Special and 38 Specials

Name: South
Coordinates: 3001 Wilshire Blvd., 90403
Neighborhood: SaMo -- ok, only tools say that. Santa Monica.
Happiest Hours: Plenty, but for starters, M-F 3-8pm. Read the review, jerks!

There's no shortage of urban dwellers who have strange and often misguided opinions about the rest of the country. Not me, of course. I'm the very apogee of fairness and judiciousness. I have perfectly accurate, healthy, and informed views about other parts of this great country, this hemisphere, and the world at large.

But alas, not everyone can be as cosmopolitan and well-informed as me. In fact, it's been to my horror and chagrin that I've realized that most people AREN'T that way.

For example.

My beloved wife, who grew up here in Los Angeles, took a road trip across the Deep South a couple of years ago. While she found the scenery beautiful, the company delightful, and the time off relaxing, she kept running into attitudes that horrified her beyond words. Like the time she and her friend asked a woman convenience-store clerk for directions, and were told, "You know, I don't rightly know. Y'all should ask a man."

I like to imagine that, in the wife's head, a record screeched to a halt.

My point here (and of course I have a point) is that while I, great respecter of cultural differences that I am, would have found that to be a charming throwback to a more genteel time and place. My wife, on the other hand, didn't quite see things that way.

I guess I just have more innate tolerance for cultural differences.

While the above story might well accurately represent The South, it doesn't really do justice to South, the LA-area's version of our neighbors below the Mason-Dixon Line. But then again, it's a certain version of The South -- less mint juleps, seersucker, and gentlemanly duels for honor and more General Lee, Southern Rock, and shooting guns in the air to celebrate major holidays and life occasions.

Oh, and specials. Amazing Happy Hour specials.

And not just Happy Hour specials.

The Vitals: South has, near as I can reckon, one of the finest Happy Hours on the Westside, going from 3-8pm Monday through Fridays, during which all pitchers of draft beer are $10, well drinks are cheap, and certain appetizers are half-off. But it doesn't stop there -- not by a country mile. South ALSO has (as it was my enormous pleasure to discover) Trivia Night on Wednesdays! It's hosted by owner Adam Milstein -- who does a fine job -- and features a pretty robust prize structure. Moreover, during said quiz, the Buffalo Wings are 20 for $5! Now that's enough to get me to darken any door more than once -- wings, beer, and trivia? Come on. I'm only human. But South ALSO has a "Recession Thursdays," featuring the usual Happy Hour deals until midnight, PLUS $1 grilled cheese, $2 "mystery shots, and $3 sloppy joes. Toss in a nice open layout, plenty of TVs, a decent staff and ownership, and solid food and drink all around, and you've got (docking the requisite points for being a University of Michigan-affiliated bar during the College Football season) a yee-hawin', Dixie-whistlin', gator rasslin' good time.