next friday ...

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.

Well, Well, Well...

It's tough to be king. I don't usually disagree with Tom Petty about life's little lessons, but seriously -- when you're the best, people come gunning at you all the time. When you're the best at something, that means you've been a trailblazer. You, in your infinite wisdom and foresight, have come up with the best ideas first, and everyone else is grasping for your crown. Grasping with bony, usurping fingers. Stealing your ideas and always trying to one-up you.

Now, I realize that it probably sounds like I'm talking about myself. But I'm not.

I'm referring here to The Well, which, in my opinion, is currently Hollywood's King of Happy Hour.

It's not like I'm chronicling some recent rise to power here, either. The Well has sat atop the heap for some time now. It has fought off most challengers (at least on that side of town) and emerged victorious, proud, unscathed, and stronger for its trials.

You might call it the William the Conqueror of Hollywood Happy Hours. OK, you might not call it that, but that's what I call it. Because I'm a giant nerd.

The Vitals: Where to start? First of all, The Well's Happy Hour goes from 5pm-9pm. That's right -- until 9pm! Secondly, although their literature indicates that only well drinks are on special ($3!), they also do most non-well drinks at half-price. A Maker's Manhattan for $4? Good luck finding cheaper than that in Hollywood, Los Angeles, or this solar system. Third, the staff is attractive, delightful, attractive, attentive, and attractive. Fourth, the appetizers are also half-price. Typical barfood dominates here, but there are some pleasant diversions. Fifth, the crowd is eclectic and well-mannered -- a nice cross-section of everything LA has to offer. And finally, the jukebox kicks. The National. The Killers. The Smiths. Leonard Cohen. And more -- but what more could you want?

Go here today. At 5pm.

Next stop? More Los Feliz.

You've Los That Lovin' Feliz, Pt. 1

I think in Los Angeles, maybe even more so than in places like New York or Chicago, we stick to our own neighborhoods. New Yorkists and Chicagoans, start your bitching...NOW!

Let's just say that although no matter where one lives one can be partial to his or her neighborhood; it just seems that in LA, this partiality borders on either obsession or paralysis. I have friends who won't leave the Westside except in a cab. Huh?

Not this guy, and to prove it, I trolled the area known as Los Feliz on my latest quest for cheap booze and marked-down food.

Now, this update is going to be a multi-parter, and I just wanted to get the ball rolling with an introductory posting. I have many opinions about Los Feliz, the Eastside of Los Angeles, and other related topics. But I'm too rushed to get into them here. For now, let's just say that many places were visited, many drinks were imbibed, and several service personnel were groped. OK, I made that last part up.


We began our evening at 1739 Public House, located at (go figure) 1739 Vermont in Los Feliz.

For such a clever name, I was expecting a lot more. What we got was full-priced drinks. And a free wheel of cheese pizza.

The Vitals: Now, I'm from the Midwest. Free pizza goes a long way (paying attention, ladies?), and I'm not made of stone, for God's sake! But I guess I thought there might be something more to this place. Other than the free pizza and $3 PBRs on Mondays and Wednesdays (but not Fridays?), it was pretty generic. "Upscale" looking nouveau-pub. Lots of beers on tap, as well as interesting serving mechanisms, but, awkwardly, no servers, a lame-ass jukebox, and ultimately a pretty flat vibe. If someone said, "Hey, Blue, remember how we live in a post-apocalyptic dystopia? And remember how 1739 Public House on Vermont is the last remaining restaurant on Earth?" If that were to happen, and that's a big "IF," I'd pull out my gun and my last 1,739 bullets, shoot the friend 1,738 times, and then use that last one on myself.

Not to be hyperbolic or anything.

A Troubling Obsess-shin

I've always been into Asian.

There's something about it -- the electronics, the cars, the...excuse me a minute. The food. I just can't get enough.

At least, that's what I thought. As it turns out, enough for me comes after being brought out about 10 plates of delicious, grilled meats and all the sides I can wolf down.

Sometimes, my obsessions get me into trouble. But this wasn't one of those times, since this is just business as usual at Shin, a Korean BBQ restaurant that, from the outside, looks like it was picked up by a tornado that tore through the Valley and was plunked down on the corner of Selma and Wilcox in Hollywood.

Shin, as it turns out, fits right in with its raucous Cahuenga Corridor (sorry -- I hate that term too) neighbors, except for a few key points. First of all, you can find parking near it. Secondly, with the exception of Citizen Smith, it's the only place within shouting distance that's not filled with completely horrible people and knob-jockeys. That's a plus where I come from. And third, the food. My God, the food.

The Vitals: Shin is the first place up for review on this site that tends to stretch the definition of Happy Hour, in that it's not your typical 4-7pm cocktails-and-apps kind of thing. Instead, they have a $25 all-you-can-eat special -- and believe you me, I tested the bounds of their policies. Apparently, this special started off as a Sundays-only thing, but I imagine the traffic on Sundays was enough to convince the owners to make it every day. Likely, this will turn out to be a wise decision, because only the proudest, bravest few can possibly eat $25 worth of meat. They also have various drink specials, including $1 sake shots. In all, this might not be the place to grab a drink and a small bite, but full meals with big groups need the Happy Hour treatment too.

Go in. Sit at the bar. Ask for Al. And wear your elastic-waisted pants.