I had been wanting to stop by this place forever. Yes, people like it and reviewers mention it frequently, but the name is what did it for me. It’s the way many people have misspelled my last name. For years. Adding in a phantom “L” where there isn’t one.
When it first happened, I was hurt. It was on a banner, listing the actors names in a production of “A Midsummer Night’s Dream”. To remedy the situation, someone painted over the rogue L so that my last name read “B (space) air”. Then my name got misspelled and mispronounced about 1,000 more times and now I kind of adore it. It’s as if I know I have arrived! Like a little chiding elbow jab from the universe. My head will never grow too large for my b (space) ody.
So finally! I stepped foot inside this corner restaurant in Silverlake. The lighting is like a Rembrandt (minus the being in prison part), the service was friendly and attentive (bonus points for bringing a small wine tasting when I couldn’t decide which Pinot to pick!), and the food is get out of town satisfying. A small menu, with words I like to see, including “goat”, “artichoke”, “risotto” and “dipping sauce”. Yes.
We feasted vegetarian-style on the roasted beet salad, then the potato gnocchi and linquini with artichokes and sunchokes (they sound violent, but they are quite gentle). Every decadent bite interrupted any and all conversation. Just a minute – I need to taste this miracle happening in my mouth, then I need to somehow convey it to you – ok, continue.
But my sweet tooth was kicking around the corner of my mouth house. “What’s in it for me?!” it asked, dejected and forgotten. Then the Belgian Abbey Ale Donuts with Warm Toffee Dipping Sauce happened. I died a few times and went to Heaven while sharing this with my friend John. I don’t have a photo of it, but if you’ll picture this:
Where I am the little girl, on a homicidal sugar rush because I love it so much! — it is that. When you go to Blair’s, donut forget dessert.