You want all manner of fish. You want it fried. Chargrilled. Salmon. Shrimp. Maybe some lobster. Chowder is a must. Also some fries. And slaw. You want to come in a t-shirt and flip flops and sit at a picnic table and eat from paper plates. And you want it to be delicious. Oh, and you need, you desperately need buttery, garlicky goodness.
Welcome to the organized chaos that is Fisherman’s Outlet.
There are good ideas. And bad ideas. And good, bad ideas. Going to the Pasadena Flea Market resides fittingly under all of the above headings.
Good idea because The Monster goes with friends. Bad idea because it proves to be 106 degrees Fahrenheit and demonstrates what living on the sun assuredly must be like. And good, bad idea because it is a swell time but The Monster thinks he may need to be hooked up to an IV and have his electrolytes replenished. And he might faint. And the cumulative amount of sweat lost could fill the East Indian Ocean. But all of this leads to Haven Gastropub…
The Monster heads to Tinga Santa Monica. Can still smell the waft of perfume the eponymous Rene used to wear as she held court in her restaurant/bar/warren. While the walls have been painted (and the creepy dolls have been replaced by horrific art), not much has really changed in this space.
Which proves both good and bad.
The Monster is a man. Hence, he likes chicken wings.
So he goes to Hoagies & Wings.
Sitting in Ameci wondering why? How did it come to this? There were grand plans for a great brunch. First scuttled when the place chosen is closed. Next doomed when the second choice proves impossible to get to because of construction. And so The Monster is in Ameci. A place he remembers being dreadful. He is doing it to punish himself.
Because the place is sad. It’s horrible looking. The menu is less then inspired. It’s the Panda Express of Italian food. The table cloth is dirty. At least the guy at the counter is nice.
Staying at The Standard Hotel in the Meatpacking District with a rad view of the Highline from the room. Once settled in The Monster realizes he has basically eaten a thousand calories of airplane nuts/pretzels/cookies and nothing else and starving is a definite possibility. As it’s between lunch and dinner and time is at a premium heading down to the Standard Grill for something to stop the impulse to eats one’s own hand is the prudent move.
Sitting outside on a fine spring afternoon (a slight nip in the air but the rain has held off) The Monster remembers how much one can love NYC. It’s a vibrant city with a true energy unique to it. This is one person who can appreciate both NY and LA.
A bit of vino, some more…
And a ton of laughter.