Met up with awesome pal Kristi last night at Bandera in West L.A. I’ve been there before — they have a handsome happy hour crowd and strong cocktails. (These are a few of my favorite things). But my Manhattan last night nearly knocked me flat on my drunken (yes, drunken) ass:
I love how the lamp makes it look like you’re in someone’s study. The kind where deals are made, affairs are consummated on a leather sofa, and the drinks come from a crystal service on a silver tray. (But maybe that’s just me.)
The special thing about THIS Manhattan (other than its lethal potency) was that since I had to drink it very slowly, the lovely bartenders kept giving me a new frosted glass, just to keep it cold. Bless them. Now, prepare to be kind of surprised. I’ve actually eaten at Bandera. And it was good.
Nothing better than fall-off-the-bone tender braised beef short ribs, unless it’s short ribs with a big, beautiful bottle of red wine. Just yummy, sweet, succulent. Kind of primal. I could eat them every day. But eventually, I wouldn’t fit through the door, and could only get them for take-out. Also, where has THIS been all my life?
Oh yes, please. Crank up the food porn to 11. And speaking of take-out, it’s almost cheat day! I’m thinking Sunday night Chinese take-out in my pajamas and perhaps a kung fu movie, since I’ve never seen one before and I like to have a consistent theme. But who am I kidding — I’ll probably end up watching Clueless or Steel Magnolias like I always do. See?! CONSISTENT.
P.S. Kristi would like me to amend my Lula Cocina post to say that she thinks the food there is perfectly good. Not (and I quote) Orange County good, but still, mui delicioso.