Joy Luck Brunch

I met the Joy Luck Club for brunch at Alcove Cafe & Bakery today.

It's a cute little place that gets quite hectic on the weekend. You order your food, and then you find a table in breakfast-egg fashion. You scramble. Please stop groaning.

But the food is good and the ambience relaxed and even somewhat darling.

I sipped my fresh-squeezed orange juice, as my cohorts shared stories of house-hunting, grad school, babies, and unruly five-year-olds who bite.

My shrimp and lobster omelet ($15.95) was delicious after I doused it with Cholula Hot Sauce, the "flavorful fire that's perfect for any food."

The fish and chips ($15.95) looked fantastic, and I can personally attest that the sweet potato fries (i.e., the "chips") tasted as fantastic as they looked.

The panini at our table with prime roast beef, aged Vermont cheddar, caramelized onions and horseradish mayo ($11.95) looked meaty and scrumptious.

The most interesting meal of the day was the smoked salmon breakfast stack ($12.95), which was comprised of two potato pancakes topped with smoked salmon, poached eggs, creme fraiche and fresh dill, served with seasonal fresh fruit. My taste-test bite was quite yummy.

Then there was our very patriotic dessert -- a red velvet cupcake ($4.50) (!!!) and an enormous slice of blue velvet cake. Yes, blue!

The red velvet cupcake was decent. Fairly moist. Solid consistency. Tasty cream cheese frosting. It didn't merit the steep price tag, though.


With regard to its blue velvet, Alcove urges you to "try this original twist on the classic red with vanilla buttercream instead." We couldn't pass it up. How often do you get to eat bright blue food, aside from Icee and Powerade?


Sadly, blue is not, in fact, the best twist on the classic red. We all agreed that the buttercream was too sweet, and the cake was crumbly and drier than the red velvet cupcake. This made me...blue. I hear you groaning again. Stop it.

Even sadder than bad blue cake was parting, though. I spent a delightful three hours under an umbrella in the sun, laughing with my dear cohorts about a judgmental Wii Fit, a neighing horse witness, and one husband's penchant for Hong Kong cafe-style food. I really didn't want to leave. I was excited, however, to go home with a little gift in hand.

Perfect ending for all the food I ate.

Sexy Movimiento

I decided yesterday that I couldn't live without a real camera battery charger anymore. The one that had come with my camera is still somewhere in South America, along with all this other stuff that was never recovered from our February vacation.

Since then, I'd invested in a cheap universal charger.

What a piece of shit. Anger.

But how awesome is it that my two batteries have lasted this long on one charge?!

Long story short, I rushed to Samy's after work, got a real Nikon battery charger seven minutes before closing, and then went in search of dinner on the way home. That's when I got sucked into Lucy's Drive-In (1373 S. La Brea Avenue).

Oh, Lucy's! You are so old! You are so dingy! You're not even as delicious as you should be! But I love you and your giant menu and your weird ordering system and multiple windows and your surprising "A" health rating.

(Yes, that is a gnarly ghetto crack in my windshield. What?)

Way back in 2000, when I was a young wide-eyed summer associate, Brother Monkey and I shared an apartment in Park La Brea, so we'd pick up greasy tacos and fat-laden burritos from Lucy's a lot more than I'd like to admit.

Carne asada taco.

Carnitas taco.

Pescado taco.

Pastrami sandwich.


Chili cheese fries.

10,000 calories later, we went to Staples Center for more Latin love. Nobody at Mr. Monkey's work (and none of their clients) had any interest in seeing reggaeton sensation Wisin y Yandel, notwithstanding the duo's Latin Grammy nomination.

The Monkeys don't pass up free tickets. We were the only two people in the whole suite!

Actually I'm quite certain we were the only two non-Latino people in a sold-out crowd of about 20,000.



I don't know who had more energy -- Wisin y Yandel, their dancers, or their fans. Check out this short clip of the hit "Pegao."



And here's the infamous "Sexy Movimiento."



Mr. Monkey couldn't stop singing it on the way home. And when we got home. And this morning. It's that catchy.

Go, reggaeton!

I Think I'm a Man

I don't give a rat's ass about Sex and the City.
Actually, that's not true.
I do give a rat's ass.
I actively dislike Sex and the City.

[breathing out]

I feel better now.

Prim Chair

My co-worker Prim is quite the Martha Stewart! She was featured in Apartment Therapy!

I do believe that I may be her only work friend who truly appreciates this momentous occasion, but I thought some of you guys out there would, too.

Wellness, Rare Beef, Time Travel, and Gas

I had quite the start to the day. I'll let the pictures do the talking.


No, I'm not pregnant, nor am I trying to be, but I am happy to report everything is ok so far. I get some more test results in a month.

(UPDATE: When I wrote this, I didn't realize it sounded so dire, so, to all of you who are fretting, do not be alarmed! I am fine. Really.)

I drove to work with cotton and medical tape on my arm. Of course, I forgot I had it on until I was about to go to lunch. Embarrassing.

We have three summer clerks who just finished their first year of law school. Ah, to be so young and full of hope! We went to Saigon Flavor (208 E. Valley Blvd., San Gabriel) for lunch.

Saigon Flavor is apparently run by the same peeps who own Golden Deli, but, somehow, it just wasn't as good to me, even though the restaurants share the same website.

Thai iced tea.

Cha gio.

Pho.

Bun. These are sort of fuzzy because I took them as quickly as I could before my cohorts ate their meals. This is what you must endure when you eat with me. Well, at least at a place at which I've never eaten before.


Chicken curry.

On our way back to the car, I saw this interesting place.

Really? Really?

Harley knocked on my door later to lend me a fun book.

The stuff in here is awesomely bad.

Finally, I decided to call it a day after spinning my wheels for a couple more hours. And, when I walked out to my wheels, I remembered my little yellow you-have-no-gas light had come on this morning. I filled the tank.

I don't know what caused me more discomfort -- the beginning or my day or the end of my work day.