Mozza Love



Mario Batali



In celebration of Valentine's Day, I'm giving some love to what I have no doubt is one of THE hardest date spots to get into in Los Angeles - tonight and every night. Osteria Mozza!

Thanks to celeb chef Mario Batali, this hotspot (shared by Pizzeria Mozza next door) is filled with two things that make the place impossible to get into - great food and celebrities. You have to book months in advance, but it's worth it.

Psst - they just opened up on Open Table to make our lives easier...or stop their phones from ringing. 

After all, how often do you get to say that you ate barracuda?



Barracuda. More than just a Heart song.

You with me?

Speaking of barracudas, L.A. mayor Antonio Villaraigosa (ew.) was seated next to us. While his table chatted politely, he spoke into his phone the whole time, holding the device sideways against his mouth. Naturally, I opened up my phone and imitated him. But unlike him, I was actually speaking to my gorgeous tablemates. Why couldn't we be seated next to William H. Macy and Felicity Huffman, who were so adorable on their little date?  

Back to the food. Sigh. These photos should say it all. If you'd like to take your sweetie to Mozza next Valentine's Day, book a table. Like, now.  

quail

Whether pretending to be uber-romantic for 24 hours on this high-pressure day and overpaying on the fixe prixe menu, or home with a tub of Chunky Monkey and Netflix - have a great night!

One celeb overdose, and your hotel is golden!

When I first moved to Los Angeles, The Roosevelt Hotel was floundering. A relic from the golden age of Hollywood, it was simply known as the hotel where Marilyn Monroe's ghost was said to roam the halls. And even then people knew it was a ploy to book hotel rooms.

Lilo's birthday at Teddy's

A couple of Lindsay Lohan overdoses later, and it's nearly impossible to get into Teddy's, one of her signature nightclubs. The lines outside suggest young tabloid addicts, desperate to catch a glimpse of young Hollywood behaving badly. Perhaps their panting wasn't at fan-crazed excitement as it was their corsets cutting off their air supply.

Either way, we weren't about to wait in line for a hour, only to be judged by miserable people with crappy jobs (a.k.a. the "door bitch") to decide whether or not we were hot enough to get in. I would argue that intelligence and conversational skills are vital to a social scene, but they always ensure that the music is too loud for that. My friends did the "I never wait in line!" line, but maybe they just harbored the same fear as I did; "What if I don't get picked?"

Months later, I get invited to the Roosevelt for a Christmas party. While much deeper things in life give me a sense of validation, I would be lying if I didn't admit to the faintest whiff of satisfaction. It was a great meal and fine holiday fun. Sure, the interior was vintage - but not mind-blowing. I was interested in The Roosevelt the way men are interested in women; intrigued because I couldn't get in and bored after conquering it.

Your Baby is an A**hole

Strollers are weapons of mass destruction. At the L.A. County Fair, parents used their offspring as an excuse to bruise and scratch total strangers. But the problem isn't the strollers of course. Even if strollers have been beefed up to resemble mini SUVs, the problem lies within that special brand of parent prone to dementia.

This dementia flatters them into thinking that everyone else loves their baby too. Those afflicted inappropriately drag their cranky tots to barbecues and parties, where everyone is expected to coo, watch their language and pipe down once the parents can stash it away in a back room. Note to these individuals: If you can't afford a sitter, you can't afford a child.

But myself and the millions of people who have been violated by strollers, crying babies in movie theatres and bad Facebook baby etiquette are speaking up. The brilliant blogger for New York is Retarded shared this hilarious rant. Here's an exerpt:

Hipster BabiesJust because you’re a hipster doesn’t mean you’re a cooler parent. If anything, you and your retarded, new age hippy parenting skills are way worse than any Midwestern, diaper bag toting, overweight, sweat-suit clad nightmare who has their kid on a leash. At least they see their child for what it is to everyone else; a pest. A pest named Billy who they keep on a leash and smack around when he acts like an asshole. I love that.

But in Brooklyn’s hipster parent world, a little shit named Chloe in a tiny Marc Jacobs ensemble wanders aimlessly around the coffee shop with her other designer clad gang of baby hipster friends named Rufus, Rex, Telulah and Blaize. They chew on mommy’s old Nano and climb onto the couch I’m sitting on and size up my clearly un-designer ensemble and loudly proclaim to their friends, “Target” in an ironic baby voice.

Meanwhile, their mothers are all gathered around in a circle drinking yerba matte, wearing slouchy boots over leggings and talking about how challenging pilates was today, oblivious to the gang warfare being waged over on my side of the shop. Clearly annoyed, but to no avail I have to suffer through this until their mothers entice them back over with a baggie full of Veggie Pirate’s Booty. Even better than that bargaining chip, these vacuous, baby holes promise their little trolls a “baby cappuccino” if they continue to be “good”. I watch the barista’s eyes rolls back in their head at the mention of a baby cappuccino and silently whisper to one another, “Not it.”

...and if the New York is Retarded blogger and the millions who have been made some stroller's bitch can't convince you that your baby is an a**hole, check out the official Your Baby is an A**hole website.

Seriously?

Shiki Shiki in Studio City, CA

Is this okay if Japanese people do it? Do they even know?

The 2nd Annual Tasty Awards

Celebrating the best in food and fashion, one presenter aptly described it as an event for "...Those who love to eat, and those who don't eat at all."

Supper Club servers

The second annual Tasty Awards kicked off this week at Hollywood's Egyptian Theatre, and as luminaries from both the foodie and fashion world milled about in the courtyard, they marveled at the unseasonably warm weather. That, and gorgeous servers in space suits, serving hors d'oeuvres by The Supper Club.

Photo by Jerod Harris

The awards show had a few hilarious trip-ups (as awards shows do), though it would have been funnier had there been an open bar prior to the show. Three Sheets' Zane Lamprey (pictured left) made light of it all and kept the crowd happy.

Some of the night's winners included Top Chef for Best Food Program. The award was accepted by Top Chef star Fabio Viviani, whom I'd previously had the pleasure of meeting during a Top Chef culinary tour. 

Top Chef heartthrob Fabio Viviani

The winner for Best Fashion or Design Program went to Lifetime's Project Runway and Best New Series was The Food Network's The Great Food Truck Race. The after party was hopping, as signature cocktails were shaken by Vya, and spicy Malaysian delicacies were served by downtown's Starry Kitchen. Chocolate of all creeds were laid out for the taking, such as The Toffee Box, Wine Time Bars and Mignon. Both stylish and delicious, I would expect no less a presentation from The Tasty Awards.

Vya apertif

The Toffee Box

pomegranate chocolates by Mignon

 

Lazy Ox Canteen - The Emperor's New Restaurant

Remember how 80's movies parodied the gourmet restaurant boon? In L.A. Story, a new French cafe named L'Idiot served microscopic bites on giant plates, and everyone continued the charade in order to appear refined. That was my experience at Lazy Ox Canteen.

Plate after plate arrived at our table with scant, mediocre-flavored nibbles. We had already dropped $40 on dishes that didn't make the equivalent of one appetizer, and we were hungry. Realizing we'd have to spend a few hundred just to stop the grumbling in our bellies, we bit the $40 tab. Throwing down our cash, we walked out  and down the street to King Taco.

For the record, I adore small plate restaurants. You can experience more flavors and share with your friends. But Lazy Ox Canteen doesn't hold a candle to the diverse fun of Susan Feniger's Street or the gourmet seriousness of Mario Batali's Mozza. Both Mozza and Street offer better quality and fairer portions, and their chefs have a lot more hype than Ox's Josef Centeno. So let's throw ego out the window and be a little less stingy with portions. Lazy Ox is taking advantage of the downtown L.A. renaissance and all the proud but clueless yuppie/hipster hybrids whom are new to the area. A downtown address and industrial interior does not a restaurant make. Sooner or later, they will catch on.

Not all reality TV makes me sad about how stupid people are

Who says Hollywood only churns out crappy reality TV? The good news is, we've done away with The Hills and the Jersey Shore? Hell that's the other coast. The verbally abusive coast that likes to make us feel bad about ourselves. The coast I came from.

Some reality TV is just plain delicious. Top Chef not only teaches you how to make good with the food you've got in-house, but it celebrates the spirit of competition. The past couple of years, I've had the privilege of celebrating good food with them. They've done cooking demonstrations and whipped us up some serious treats. Thank you Top Chef!