Why do I have such fabulous romantic dates with my phenomenal girlfriends? Never let it be said that I don’t have great taste in women. To paraphrase from As Good As It Gets, I’d be the luckiest girl alive if that did it for me. (And to paraphrase from Romy & Michelle’s High School Reunion, “Ask me again when I’m 40.”)
Had so much fun with my new pal Heather last night (what UP Pacific Northwest!) that I sang in my car the whole way home like a fool in love. (Those two glasses of red wine didn’t hurt, either.) Pace has long been one of my favorite LA places. (Italian for ‘peace,’ it’s pronounced pah-chay.)
It’s cozy, serene and cave-like, like a secret grotto or a tree-house. The staff are LOVELY and not remotely snobby; an unexpected treat at such a star-studded place. (Last time, Avril Lavigne. This time, random young actor I should recognize but didn’t. US Magazine, why hast thou forsaken me?)
We shared a chopped salad and a yummy Hera Pizza (pesto, mushrooms, arugula, fresh tomato and fontina cheese). A bit pricey at $16 but worth it for the beautiful organic ingredients and a rich, golden crust with that crisp/chewy texture I love so much.
You’ll find Pa-Chay (tired of that yet?) at the Hollywood end of Laurel Canyon, tucked in behind the General Store, before you hit any of the murderous weirdness up on Wonderland. And just because I love LA, I give you this:
Thanks for the awesome article, Ms. Adra! And remember tourists, if you’re taking pics with what are CLEARLY mentally unstable people dressed up as superheroes and Storm Troopers at Hollywood/Highland, this is LA, baby. Ya gotta pay to play.