European American

What would Americans do without their imitation European cafes? Sitting among grossly expensive imported items and white linens, served by snobby waitstaff, and ordering off a pricey menu whose items manifest in servings the size of tuna cans (no, smaller). Americans, and Angelenos can maintain some level of denial that what they are experiencing is a small slice of foreign European bliss, at home. Such is the destiny of The Little Door, a tucked away cafe off of 3rd street. French accoutrements abound in the form of bright cobalt blue walls, menu's written on chalkboard and mirrors, waitstaff in crisp white shirts or striped tees (think your local venice canal boat guide), canned homemade jams, an assortment of organic teas, coffees and plenty of pastries and colored macaroons. There is an outside covered patio, shrined in leafy vines, and small vases of fresh wildflowers sit on each table; while the inside is awash in white light from outside and the back wall showcases a selection of available wine for you to purchase. The effect is a cafe that is both old world and modern, and very charming with all its European references.



The upscale clientele buzzes; with lunching ladies, business meetings, and the interruption of model-esque women running through to pick up a quick bite to eat at the deli. This cafe is obviously an enjoyably secluded spot. I'd say the patrons are as charming as the gold filigree detailing on the teacups.

My disappointment showed up in the form of the succint and only slightly titillating menu. There is very little to say about the menu, hence the reason I left out mention of it. The Little Door offers organic helpings - among them, ginger salad, Quinoa and Salmon. I decided to order the chicken salad however, hence the cautionary note on healthy. The chicken mixture is a little heavy considering the mayonnaise they put on it, and topped with a white roll, I'm pretty sure it's resting place will be in my arteries.



I enjoyed the atmosphere and the cafe's lack of pretense, but a cafe really hits the spot when the food is as enjoyable as much as the atmosphere and energy. A future visit will not be planned, but if I end up here again, I hope the bad taste left in my mouth will have gone the way of the dinousaurs.

Tokyo Pop

It just so happened that L.A. is now officially Japan-infused. With Japanophiles popping up across the city's landscape, and since L.A. is a bonified hub of the cutting-edge, welcome Royal/T cafe; a capitalization on the maid cafe trend of Tokyo's Akihabara district. Although the little cafe off of Washington Boulevard is a bit more art gallery oriented, its novelty is enough to bring an influx of curious patrons and manga maniacs alike. However, nothing can replace the original design. See Here...STOP THE MAIDS!!



Modeled after cafes in Tokyo's Akihabara district, Royal/T garnered a lot of attention, as it is the first of it's kind in this big city.



Travel + Leisure reports, "One of the quirkiest phenomena in Japan has come to L.A. with the opening of Royal/T in Culver City (8910 Washington Blvd., Culver City; 310/599-6300; royal-t.org). The 10,000-square-foot, Japanese-themed space houses a contemporary art gallery, a shop with artist-designed toys and clothing—and a café where the waitresses are dressed up as French maids. ROYAL/T, owned by Whitney Museum Council member Susan Hancock, was conceived as a 21st-century "guerrilla" version of a traditional museum. None of the art in the gallery is for sale, and the café features Japanese comfort-food dishes such as tomato-rice omelets and macha milk. The debut installation, "Just Love Me," includes works by Yoshitomo Nara and Takashi Murakami, from Hancock’s private collection."

If I Can't Sleep

It is well past midnight and I'm walking down Beverly Boulevard to grab a cup of Joe. This is fairly rare. I should be sleeping. I treasure my down time.

So imagine this...a long room (more long than wide anyway) drenched in sepia tones, dimly lit by two dusty 1940's vintage crystal chandeliers, furnished with small wooden tables, soiled velvet couches, a smattering of laptop power plugs lining the walls at waist height, and a waitstaff demonstrating their best night-of-the-living-dead impression while asking you what you want with a hint of denigration. They don't serve decaf here(I tried that). It's Insomnia cafe people and it's well past midnight.



Come ready to party, this cafe is a grunge fest, complete with out of work artists, actors and writers working away on their little mac laptops. Take a hint from the name, this cafe is for the hard-working and ambitious. These patrons are so consciously self-unaware the stench of pretension is a little thick.

Onwards....

If you want a late night snack and a quiet place to work, this cafe should be your destination; but here's hoping you sleep well.

Starbucks Is Gourmet?

A friend of mine once woke from a dream in which she opened up a Starbucks in the jungles of Paraguay. Granted, she worked at Starbucks at the time, the dream certainly wasn't uninspired. Although she never advocated it's existence, she certainly didn't oppose it (after all, she worked at one of the newest Starbucks music stores off Lincoln Road in Miami Beach; and they wanted to promote her - that was one thing she didn't want and she turned them down). There's no denying that pretty much everyone in the world coffee drinking age has tried Starbucks self-promoted 'premier' coffee, and subsequently been exposed to its' Baristas and cornucopia of merchandise (did anyone see the coffee cups shaped like a to go mug? I admit - I think they're cute). However, the prices of their coffee have gone up without quality to match, and I often find the long lines and cookie-cutter atmosphere has cheapened the experience.

How lucky was I to find a blurb in New York magazine about how Starbucks should wise up and take a gander at the newbie coffee houses slowly whittling away their profits and producing Mochas and Lattes that justify the price and a true gourmet reputation. Ladies and Gentlemen, we have a true coffee house in L.A. and it's name is Intelligentsia. Known to many SilverLake dwellers, their L.A. location exists on a small section off Sunset, where some of the more interesting culinary treats of Silverlake exist.

Why comes to L.A.? If you go to the site, it's slightly reminiscent of the Starbucks mantra, however, "Along with introducing Los Angeles to Intelligentsia’s understanding that responsible business practices create the finest coffees, the Silver Lake store will showcase the seasonality of the fine coffees. An agricultural product, coffee can be grown and harvested with the same care and commitment local artisanal farmers have for heirloom vegetables. And like heirloom vegetables, coffee varietals, such as the famed Geisha bean, each have a season when they are at their peak. The new Silver Lake store will showcase these finer, heirloom-grown coffees by offering coffees only during their specific season, when their stunning aromas and flavors elevate it from commodity crop to an elegant foodstuff to be savored."

So where does that leave Starbucks, leader of the coffee biz? Danny Meyer, a restauranteur, believes that since Starbucks has "put an entire adult population through Coffee University," it must now prepare its own generations of "stores run by passionate coffee geeks," after taking a cue from "four of the smaller, elite players from across the world who are doing it right." Drumroll please, these are: Monmouth Coffee (London), Blue Bottle (San Francisco-Oakland), Intelligentsia (Chicago/Note* L.A. is their newest location), and Joe the art of Coffee (New York). L.A. certainly doesn't need another superficial anecdote in the daily grind; but can Angelenos sacrifice their time for a good cup of Joe? After all, I don't want to see Starbucks in the middle of the jungle.

Intelligentsia
Coffee sommelier, pastries, Clover
3922 W. Sunset Blvd., 323.663.6173
Daily 6am-11pm

Pick Me Up In The Morning

L.A. mornings are breathtaking. Usually cool, and beautifully done by nature in pink, yellow and blue. This glory is coupled with hazy fog (I mean, MARINE LAYER (is it just because in NY you call it fog???)). You're waking up in a dreamy landscape full of fresh morning dew (and sometimes the neighborhood cat at your door). Nothing beats this unless you're watching the early morning rise from a seat at a cafe off the Sunset Strip.

Being Accused of Going Grandpa

Free wireless internet, average coffee, healthy eats (yogurt, fruit, boba, bran muffin), and local artist work are offered at this corner coffee house - topped off with your token tattooed waitstaff.

I am at Sabor Y Culture off Hollywood Boulevard and doing my duty as a friend and wife (read: I'm not doing this for my benefit). Tonight is Friday night, and though the place is often host to several local artist community gatherings, tonight the gamers rule. I'm not taking Wii. Professors and intellectuals (there are exceptions) surround me at each table. They are playing board games. I don't see any fantasy games here but rather Art Moderna, Cash 101 and Settlers of Catan. Friday night is on and it's buzzing with the over 30 crowd.









Two hours later and twice as many latte's, I am peeking at the other tables and observing the fun. Students have settled in to study. So many people are chattering that it turns to a crowd murmur and evokes a zen atmosphere. No one to hit on you here (what a relief!). These gamers, students and artists are serious and concentrate heavily on what is in front of them.

In the alleyway, I spot a surprise (LA is full of these) and take a picture. Although it's a little creepy, and certainly more so since it's dark and we're in an ALLEY, it's an interesting piece of work.

Hit it Like a Russian

Oh pick up lines. Let me count the ways. When you go out with the girls (and I mean friends, not the nicknamed duo that reside on a chest), it is inevitably seen as an open invitation to men; especially after downing liquid courage. Unfortunately for the unwitting male counterpart, nothing makes me go frigid faster than a drunk hit. Inevitable it is, so what better way to brave the waters than at a local Russian bar.

One Sunday night, I hop into my car and hit up Lubitsch, a tucked away bar in my West Hollywood neighborhood. The ivy-covered entrance leads to a stone walled patio and is guarded by the usual bouncer, but with the typical LA twist - as our bouncer, whose name we learn is Daniel - is wearing black skinny jeans and Italian boots. More nerdy emo than buff gym rat, and a lot more fun than either. Two rooms, illuminated only by a handful of orbs and lamps around the bar make you feel like you walked into Eastern Promises, and you're hoping there's not a body in the back. This place is dark, and I'm digging it. If you want to hide from your friends, here's good place to do it.

Strawberry flavored drinks rimmed with champagne are on the special menu tonight and my girlfriends, who have beat me to the punch tell me, they are delicious! If history serves me right, I'm pretty sure drinks with fruity flavors were not served at the Kremlin in the 1800's, but whatever; with its designated Russian moniker, how can I resist. However, girls night out it is not meant to be, and as I talk with my friends, we are accosted by a NY douchebag, all primped and preened with stoli vodka. It doesn't take long before I ask him to leave, (I am after all, catching up with good friends) and it gets hostile. After a near aggressive and extensive awkward argument, he finally leaves (he later ends up in a fight on the patio, and gets kicked out of the bar. Whoo-hoo! Maybe Daniel is tougher than he looks). My girls and I end up on the patio, and we get to know Daniel, our swathy bouncer, a little better. He is aware that we were the ones who rejected the NY patron, and tells us we 'should have taken one for the team.' Yeah, right. The night ends in laughs, and we all go home pink cheeked and happy.

Lubitsch, it's not a place to get drunk and party, but it's great to chill out and have some fun. Still, not everyone has a good time here, LA Filtered would disagree with my blessing.