Category Archives: Traveling Kels

Pop Up Restaurant Anyone?

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Earlier this week I came across a post on Eater LA about a Pop-Up restaurant this weekend only on Abbot Kinney.  Two chefs, one from Joe’s Restaurant and one from Axe (pronounced Ah-shay), were taking over some place called Capri for the weekend and hosting a $65, eight course tasting menu.  I forwarded it on to Brad.  Sounded like our kinda thing.

I sort of forgot about it because Brad never read the article and basically just said, “Yeah, ok.  Sure.”  We both had off Friday.  We love Abbott Kinney.  We love new restaurants.  We would probably end up going.  Sure.

And then Wednesday, as we were cranking what was probably an illegal U-turn on Electric Avenue (yep, that’s a real street name and every time we drive on it I sing the song) trying to find parking for our favorite coffee shop Intelligentsia, a black SUV pulled up next to us and rolled down the window.

Kris Tominaga, who Brad knows from Joe’s Restaurant, leaned out of the car and handed Brad a flyer.  We were obviously blocking traffic in so many directions, so we just exchanged a quick hello and “of course we’ll be there” before waiving our apologies to other angry drivers, completing our illegal maneuver and parking.  But the flyer put two and two together.  Kris was the chef from Joe’s who was hosting this pop-up this weekend, Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing.  One example of how sometimes illegal U-turns have beautiful endings.

We called and made a reservation while waiting in line at Intelligentsia (because there is ALWAYS a line – this is part of the Intelligentsia experience), and checked out the menu. And then I rubbed it in that I was one step ahead of Brad in something having to do with restaurants for once.  Boo-ya.

**Brad didn’t care.  He still knew both the chefs AND the guy who answered the phone to take the reservations, so he is still exponentially cooler than me.  And always will be.  Damn.**

 

So yesterday, Brad and I had a fantastic and crafty Brad and Kelly day off (I’ll update you on the crafty projects soon!), and after a two hour long Skype call with my parents, we headed over to Venice.

Directly across the street from one of the best restaurants in the WORLD (Tasting Kitchen) and one of the best restaurants in Los Angeles, if not the United States (Gjelina), Capri has never been successful.  I had never heard of it, but people tell me it was over priced and always empty.  Last night, as WISC, it was bustling, bright, and lively.

All white with white Christmas lights and brilliant, simply framed celebrity photographs lining the walls, it was a clean and classic atmosphere.  The brown craft paper laid on top of classic white table cloths was set with mismatched china (borrowing from their neighbors across the street?) and simple kitchen towels for napkins.  Mismatched chairs made it feel like a big family gathering where all the seating in the house was pulled together.

I love the feel of the ‘fancy mixed with simple’ trend going on now in restaurants.  Beautiful food served on amazing dishes in an environment that feels comfortable. People want the quality of fine dining food without the air of snobbery that can come along with it.  People want to feel like you are a chef inviting them into your house for a home cooked meal, not like they have to worry about which fork goes with which course.  This all goes double in Venice.

Also, I love white Christmas lights.  If Brad would let me, I’d have them up all around the house all year long.  When we have a restaurant, believe me I will sneak in Christmas lights some way.  Last night, I believe it was the Christmas lights that did me in.  I knew this place was going to be awesome.

I was right.  The menu was phenomenal.  The food was fantastic.  Our server was amazing and she told us the story behind every taste of wine and every dish she put in front of us.  The wine parings were out of this world and complemented both of the dishes each taste was meant for in big, bold and different ways.  Even the china was fun – we got the plate voted “Most Likely to Be Stolen By The End of the Weekend”.

Look at that ‘STACHE!!!

And then we made sure they saw that we gave it back.

For dessert, we had our second amazing biscuit of the day on Abbot Kinney (the first was a buttered quince paste biscuit for breakfast at Gjelina Take Away), and Brad said WISC’s beat out Gjelina’s hands down.  I ranked them neck and neck.  Buttery heaven.

As we drove back down Abbot Kinney on our way home last night, stuffed full and a little tipsy (just me), we passed the Otherroom and reminisced about my first birthday here in LA, just three days after we moved from NY to LA.  A friend of mine from college met us out at the Otherroom (her suggestion, I had no idea where to go), and we began our Abbot Kinney love affair with the Mick Jagger painting that was hanging right at the entrance.  That night we thought AK was a crazy little street with amazing window displays and such cool people.  Almost two years later (!!!), we are still finding new and amazing places on the street and still marveling at how cool all the people are.

WISC will only be around this weekend and will reopen to occupy the Capri space again for all of December.  I know for sure that Brad and I will be back as many times as we can afford to make sure that this new addition to AK sticks around into 2012.

Wolf In Sheep’s Clothing, thank you for the great time and for the delicious meal and best of luck to you!  We can’t wait to see you again in December!

The Crabby Mary

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So this time last weekend, Suzi and I were already a few Bloody Marys deep and trying to figure out how to win $500.

Our GM at R+D, Steve, entered us in a competition for the “Best Bloody Mary in the West”.  It was a competition where any bartender on the Westside could come and compete with their finest Bloody Mary recipe.

This is all of the information we got:

Steve entered us Saturday night around 9PM.  The competition was at noon Sunday.  AND Suzi and I were closing the bar Saturday night.

Thank goodness Daylight Savings Time gave us an extra hour.

So Suzi and I left work about 12:30 Saturday night and went to my apartment to plan.  We Googled, we made lists, and we came up with some solid Bloody Mary ideas.  Then we went out to find a 24 hour grocery store.

Have you ever been to a grocery store at 1AM on a Saturday night/Sunday morning?  It is a really special place.  People are either super drunk and really wobbly or in their PJs and kind of crazy.  There is usually just one cash register open and the line is extremely entertaining.  There were keys ripping open guacamole containers and girls buying containers of icing with no cake mix to put it on.  There were cookie containers with maybe a cookie or two left (scratch that, that was Brad) and lots of frozen pizzas.  Poor cashier.

I’ll say it again.  Ralphs at 1AM is a very special place.

But we got home and got to work.  This is what my stove looked like around 2AM.

We were frying bacon, making Old Bay Shrimp, and I was hungry so I was making spaghetti (big surprise).

Our plan was to submit two entries.  Suzi would make a BLT Bloody Mary with Bacon infused vodka, a Mayo and Breadcrumb rim, and Charred Frisee garnish.

I was taking the Maryland approach.  A Crabby Mary that used as much crab as I could get into it.

So at 2AM we prepped.  We fried bacon.  We did a speedy bacon vodka infusion that had to sit overnight.  I made Old Bay Shrimp.  And we ate spaghetti.  Because that is all good to do at 2AM.

I went to sleep about 4AM.  At 7:30, I woke up and went to Whole Foods for some blue crab meat.  Suzi came back over around 9, and then we got to work fo realz.  On 3.5 hours of sleep.  Ugh.

We fried up more bacon and then I made some mini crab cakes for garnishes.  They were some of my finest work.  I’ll even say amazeballs, because they were, in fact, balls.  Appropriate.

So a little trial and error, a little scraping congealed bacon fat off of vodka, a few sample Bloody Marys drunk, and we were off to Salute Wine Bar on Main St in Santa Monica.

And then we got there….

The set up was like this.  Here is a table to put your stuff on.  Here are 150 plastic cups to serve 150 samples to the brunch guests from noon until 3pm.  Here is some ice.  Oh and here is a bottle of vodka.

150?

No shakers?  No utensils?

Wait… 150???

Yea, so I had twelve crab cakes.  TWELVE.  And I ate one of them that morning, of course.  (Quality control.  Anyone who has ever watched Top Chef knows this is super important…)  So I had ELEVEN crab cake garnishes for 150 samples.  And not to mention, Suzi and I had only two jars of V8 between the two of us.

I retreated into my head for a little bit.  Just stood there by our table looking around, trying to reassess.  Our competitors had bottles and bottles full of pre made mixes.  They had knives and spoons and cutting boards.  They had kimchi and quail egg garnishes made up for at least 100 people.  They had deli cups and spouts and fancy toothpicks…

But I’ve been a bartender for five years in some of the most under and over prepared bars I’ve ever seen.  And one of the first things I learned when I was training back at the college student infested Urban Flats in Winter Park, FL was “Make it Red.”

Ok, so this obviously applies here because if your Bloody Mary isn’t red, there is something seriously wrong.  But “Make it Red” really refers to just making it work and making it taste good.  When some tipsy college kid asked me for a “Twisted-Surfer-Whose-Hair-is-On-Fire” shot or something, you just smile and make it red.  Truth is, some bartender probably made that ridiculous concoction up somewhere and the kid has no freaking idea what’s in it.  So make it red, make it strong, and make it delicious.

***I made up the “Twisted-Surfer-Whose-Hair-is-On-Fire” shot.  But whatever is in it, now it is definitely red.***

Suzi and I consolidated.  We scratched the BLT because we definitely didn’t bring enough of the bacon infused vodka to last 150 samples.  (But Suz made one for Steve once he got there and it was DELISH.  Next year….)  We broke the crab cakes into 3 pieces each.  We garnished some with just the Old Bay shrimp.  I only added half of the amount of blue crab shaken into the Crabby Marys and added way more Old Bay.  We worked the one-eyed stuffed animal crab.  We worked our charm.  And I called our GM to bring us a shaker so I could actually function.

In reality, 150 was a gross over-exaggeration.  We probably only made about 80 samples, and only ran out of crab meat for the very last two.  People loved the crab cakes and I heard so many nostalgic stories about summers or childhoods spent in Maryland.  I reminisced with people about Annapolis and Ocean City.  We talked about the Ravens and the Orioles.  It made me homesick and happy, and it was well worth getting my $$ Sunday bar tending shift covered.

We came in second place behind a bartender from a bar right down the street who was absolutely more prepared than we were.  But we only lost by 3 votes, which I thought was a great victory.

The $500 Grand Prize would have been nice, but we spent the rest of the night drinking champagne, dancing, wearing funny hats, watching the sunset and hanging out with amazing new (and old) friends at a beautiful apartment right on Ocean Ave in Santa Monica.

And first is the worst, second is the best.  At least until next year…

I See a Red Room and I Want It Painted Shy Cherry

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I think you know you love your apartment when you start painting.  That is when you know you’re gonna be sticking around for a bit.  Especially when you paint a room red.  That’s commitment.  Because, let’s face it, that’s never gonna get painted with enough coats to get it back to the boring white the rest of the apartment is.  When you move out you have some serious work ahead of you.

I guess I also know plenty of people who have painted their apartments because they DIDN’T love it.  You know, to try to make it a bit more livable.  Take my sister’s creepy senior year college house.  A little bright green paint and some sweet curtains made that room awesome.  And not creepy at all.  Nice work, Nicki.

But I have never painted a room.  Probably because, as mentioned before, Brad and I don’t tend to stay put very long.  Seven apartments in four years?  Four broken leases. (We found suitable replacements EVERY time.  We are still good tenants!)

We were apartment commitment-phobes.

But this apartment is different.  I really, really love it.  So yesterday I convinced Brad to go to the paint store with me and spend our night off together painting our dining room.

We showed up at the paint store knowing we wanted red.  And I insisted that we get a color with a food name.  That’s a reasonable request for a chef and a foodie painting their dining room, right?

The red genre turned out to be full of foods.  No problem here.

Chili peppers, crabs, tomatoes, lobsters, beets, raspberries, apples… A lot of foods are red.  We almost went “Rhubarb” until we found “Shy Cherry”.  Who can resist Shy Cherry?

For some reason we Googled “Shy Cherry” and found this cute little shy guy.  Shy Cherry was it.

So we found our perfect food paint color and then let the guy mix it up.  This is when I got a little silly.  Don’t give me ten minutes to do nothing in a paint store.  I’ve already gone through all the ridiculous paint names.  Now I’m gonna move on to the hardware part of the store.  Brushes, sponges, hats, sanders, and… painting suits.

I found a very affordable painting outfit to ensure that I would be paint free at the end of our adventure as well as look incredible glamorous the entire time.  And although Brad thought I was crazy, I knew looked great.

It was a bit hard to smile with those googles on.  Makes me feel for happy scientists.  It can’t be easy to be them.

Then, just for good measure, I tried out some dance moves.

Most absolutely dance worthy.  Best $8 I’ve ever spent.

Oh, we did a little bit of painting, too.  I even got fancy and paired my red paint with red wine.

Appropriate!

By the end of the night we had a dining room that is not shy at all.  With only a few little mistakes that need covering up.  And one trash bag full of red stained paper towels and floor coverings that only mildly made it look like we had just murdered someone in our apartment.

Oh, and because I love food and a girl’s gotta eat, Brad then made me the most amazing Shrimp and Grits EVER.  With a chorizo sauce and cilantro.  I make a mean Shrimp and Grits, and I will never make it again because now I know Brad’s is 658689680 times better than mine.  Truth.

My contribution was whisking the Cheddar Cheese into the Grits, drinking more red wine, and wearing my paint outfit most of the rest of the night.  I think I did a great job.  And our dining room looks incredible.  Thanks, Shy Cherry.

Happy Brad and Kelly day off!!

My Dog Gibson

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I decided last night that there are many reasons that I love our new apartment.  But reason #1?

Gibson likes it.

And not only does she like it, she likes to be outside of it.  And this, my friends, is a HUGE deal.

If this confuses you in any way, let me introduce you to our dog, Gibson.

Gibson is a very special dog in the most sarcastic of ways.  Brad and I found Gibson (then Truffles) on Petfinder.com, where we had sort-of-kind-of been looking for a dog but not really.  Then we came across this picture:

I mean, seriously.  Isn’t she adorable?  I even still have the link saved because those pictures are so freaking adorable.

The only thing that scared us a little was #1 the mention of St Bernard in the mix and #2 the size of our one bedroom apartment.  But we were in love – with each other and with this “Truffles” – so we called and made an appointment to go check out this adorable little mutt.

We drove out to some house in the middle of the woods way out in the middle-of-nowhere Orlando (yes, that exists), and were greeted by this tiny puppy who was absolutely terrified of us.  Kim, the woman who runs In Harmony With Nature Animal Haven, practically had to drag her over to meet us.  She explained that the whole litter of puppies had been to three or four different puppy mills and had been miraculously saved each time.  In their 4 months of life, they’d had a pretty rough go of it.  “Truffles” was one of three of the puppies left at her shelter to be adopted to good homes.  She was the smallest of the litter and definitely the most shy, but she seemed to perk up a little around her brother.

Then a woman in a full spandex bicycling suit (I will never forget this detail – wtf?!?) came out with another puppy who looked exactly like “Truffles”, but had long, shaggy hair.

Meet Mr. Freeman, whose hair was even more ridiculous than this picture in person.

Instantly, “Truffles” perked up a little and started sniffing around and playing with her brother.  It was like she forgot that scary strangers were trying to pet her.  And Mr Freeman, besides having a really fantastic name, was hilarious.  We wanted to get them both, but couldn’t afford it and REALLY didn’t have the space for two St Bernard mixes.  And just to seal the deal, because I am a terrible impulse buyer, Mr Freeman got heart worm pretty bad in one of the puppy mills and was not up for adoption until he was all better.

Sigh.

We may have been a little leery to adopt such a shy dog until right before we left, Gibson built up some courage and gave me a little kiss on the face.  I was hooked.  (Nice work, girl) We left a check with Kim and rushed off to Target to get all the necessary puppy things.  Oh and “Truffles” had to go.  Brad named her Gibson,after the guitars obviously.

When we got Gibson back to our apartment, she was incredibly shy.  Her favorite place was under the coffee table and she was terrified of the busy city street that we lived on.  It was almost a shame she was so cute because everyone wanted to pet her and play with her, but she was so scared.  We started prefacing everything with “Sorry, she’s really shy” so people wouldn’t feel bad about themselves when this cute little puppy didn’t like them.

We took her to dog parks, we had a lot of people over to visit, I took her on runs, we socialized her every way we knew how and every way Google told us to.  But our dog went outside to do her business and come back in.  And when anyone other than Brad or me was at our apartment, she would do her own thing.

Gibson is four years old now and has lived in as many apartments (7) and states (3) as Brad and I have together.  It was a lot to ask of a shy dog to get on a plane and fly to California, but she did it.  And she was even delivered to us at LAX in her crate on a forklift.  True story.

It’s taken a loooong time, but Gibs is definitely starting to come out of her shell.  Inside the apartment, she is neurotic and hyper and loves to play with anyone who will play with her and one of her toys. She’s still cautious around new people and afraid of almost everything, but she tends to trust who we trust and will get into a good game of tug-of-war wherever she can with whoever is willing.  She barks at and chases reflections of lights on the walls and ceiling, she loves Brad’s cooking and the dog park, she keeps my feet warm in bed every night, and she even has a few tricks up her paws.

But she still hates walks.

Which is why last night, when she walked confidently ahead of me down the block in front of our new apartment building, I just followed and let her do her thing.  Maybe Gibson has found a neighborhood that suits her.  Maybe this block has a good vibe.  Whatever it is, I immediately knew I was in love with this new apartment when my scared little Gibson felt like exploring.  It was worth every stressful minute of moving the day after getting back from vacation and every penny we’ve had to (and are going to have to) pinch to make this work.

Oh, and Mr Truffles?  We actually went back about a month after getting Gibson and decided if he was still there we were getting him.  When we got there, a mom and her son were packing him up to take back to Tallahassee and renaming him Reilly.  It is probably our biggest regret, especially because Mr. Freeman is a WAY cooler name than Reilly.

PS.  And she’s totally NOT a St Bernard.  WTF??

I’m On A Boat!

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My family, living twenty minutes from the Chesapeake Bay, have never really been water people. People assume when I tell them that I am from Maryland that I have great sailing skills, or at least played water polo once or twice or something.

We don’t really do that here in Columbia…

I take that back. My family has owned a boat as long as I can remember. But it’s a canoe. And it’s been upside down in our backyard, probably the home to many squirrels and small animals, ever since I was about ten.

My dad used to take me fishing a lot in our canoe. I’d go digging for worms in our backyard and then we would go down to the reservoir with my Disney fishing rod. According to my father’s speech at my wedding, I always caught some pretty big fish. Insert joke about brad being a big fish here. Nice work, dad.

Anyway, so last year our super close family friends decided to get a really sweet boat and named it the Live, Love, Laugh in honor of their wonderful daughter who passed away a few years ago and how she lived her life.

 

It was absolutely the best idea ever for a couple reasons. First, because it is so peaceful out there and really just gives them (and whoever they invite to ride) a great place to relax and find peace. And second, as Brad said today, the only thing better than owning a boat is having friends who own a boat.

Since Brad and I live so far away and have managed to be away most of the past two summers, we insisted on testing out our sea legs today. We left my parents house armed with sweaters, jackets, hats… It was 61 degrees and we were going boating, dammit.

 

Captain Mike even took the day off of work to indulge us (thanks Mr. Mike). Everyone was put to work, especially brad who grew up on a lake and loves boating life.

Somehow I lucked out and just curled up under the only blanket on board and just took pictures. What can I say?  I am a wimp.

 

Oh, and my brother and sister in law got us a ukulele today for our wedding present.  Of course, Brad brought it along and serenaded us while we shivered.


 

We took the boat across the river to a cute little restaurant that was absolutely empty and whose servers seemed kind of horrified that we braved the chilly weather for them. And while we ate our crab soup and crab cake sandwiches, the sun came out and warmed things up a little.

 

The sky was blue, the leaves were turning… it turned out to be a fantastic autumn day.

 

Days like this make me miss being close to home and the people I love. Thanks, Susan and Mike for loving and indulging us. Next time we come out for a ride though, I’m going to insist on having to wear less than four layers…

This little piggy

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If this picture from our wedding isn’t an indicator of the pig influence in my life, here is another.

My husband loves pigs. He works at a restaurant (Ford’s Filling Station, check it out) that is decorated with pigs. They get in 3 or 4 huge pigs every week and hold pig dinners for groups who want to try everything from pig brain and eyeballs to crispy pig tails. they specialize in using every part of the animal, from snout to tail.

When Brad first started working at Fords, he started posting pictures of his every day activities on Facebook. This included a lot of dead piggy pictures. Brad cutting up piggies, all the cuts of piggies, hanging sausages…

He started getting messages from friends back east just making sure I was safe living with and being married to such a butcher. I started pushing my social media knowledge on him and asked him to censor the pictures he displayed for everyone. Case in point, he butchered an entire pig the other day and very proudly showed me a picture of a pile of cuts of pig meat with the triumphant head sitting right on top.

“I didn’t put this one on Facebook, Kels.”

Sigh. Of. Relief.

I am extremely proud of him and his piggie loving ways. They gross me out every now and then, mostly when he makes me try eyeballs or bone marrow or yet another chicken liver invention. But the man knows pork. And I reap the benefits of all of those pictures that are not posted to Facebook.

But Brad left me here in Maryland last night so he could get up to Ithaca before this afternoon, which happens to be the only appointment he could get with his favorite tattoo artist while we were home.

He is getting a pig tattooed on his arm.

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In his own words…