During the 2009 edition of J Gold’s essential 99 list, one extremely optimistic suitor of mine had highlighted all the restaurants he wanted to go to with me. Sadly, this suitor lived in his car – by choice not necessity – and that was just one of the red flags. There was NO way that I was going to check out 42 restaurants with the homeless-actor-living-in-a-car-taking-showers-at-the-gym.

Since Jonathan Gold left the LA Weekly earlier this year – for the greener pastures of the LA Times –  it’s clear that the LA food community needs another list. Besha Rodell is the new food critic at LA Weekly and she needs a little more time to get acquainted with the LA dining scene. I’m hoping she creates her own list of essential restaurants.

Until then, here’ s my amateur attempt at assembling an essential list of places to eat in LA. Most on these are from Jonathan Gold’s 99 essential list (from 2011). At my most recent count, I had managed to make my way through the third of the list.

And there it is… My list of essential places. As Julia Child would say…bon appétit!

The first time we shared food it was at LudoBites 8.0.  I had an extra seat at my table of 4. Last minute reservation. He was working late at the office. He ended up taking up the last spot at our table.  His passion for food rivaled mine.

The next time we shared food was at dinner party we hosted together, showcasing both of our cooking skills. I remember the menu. I made a roasted leg of lamb, roasted potatoes and feta cheese turnovers. He made creamed spinach, bacon wrapped dates, macaroons and bacon jam. This was not a date. But it was the beginning of our friendship.

More food memories followed. French, Korean, Cuban. Home made food brought to the office.  And then there was LudoBites again. This time foie gras night. Followed up more foie gras, this time at Animal. And after months of sharing food, we shared a kiss and just like that a friendship turned into a relationship.

This is the story of our relationship… told through food.

Beef rossini by Michael Voltaggio – Foie Gras Night at Animal

foie gras ssam, rhubarb char-siu, herbs, green curry, peanuts (animal) — at Animal Restaurant.

Foie Gras Dynamite, Tuna, Lichi — at LudoBites Best of Foie Gras.

Bone in ribeye – from Lindy & Grundy – cooked to perfection (rare, how we liked)

One of my favorite desserts from LudoBites 8.0 at Lemon Moon.

Fresh uni at Hungry Cat in Hollywood
(Photo Credit: Ex BF)

Our relationship was a complex balance of flavors. The mix was always interesting and full of love, but sometimes, the ingredients just didn’t blend well together.  And so it ended. It was delicious while it lasted.

That’s why I was so devastated last night when I lost him for about 16 hours. The panic. The horror. And the realization that I was more upset over losing him than dumping the boyfriend the night before.

But my world is coming back to normal. I found my iPhone!

1. we had been friends before becoming more than friends
2. we share similar relationship/attitudes with food, exercise and body issues
3. an unapologetic appreciation for the finer things in life
4. a geographically desirable location, less than a mile from my apartment
5. and an air conditioned apartment (which I need during the 3 weeks of the year when it’s insanely hot in Hollywood Hills and I have yet to get a portable A/C)

Then there was my birthday coming up and I really wanted a birthday that didn’t result in a breakup on my birthday. Not to mention my determination to have a relationship that lasts more than 3 months (one that did not require legal documents in the form of marriage).  So I decided to give it another chance…

Last Friday – Aug 17 – was my birthday. The first two text messages in the morning were from my brother and the dude. A very promising start. The birthday plans were to have some cocktails/food at home followed by  drinks with friends at the neighborhood bar - The Parlour Room – stumbling distance from my apartment.

It was one of those days that made me realize how fortunate I am to have such a beautiful group of friends in my life. My birthday consisted of not one but two cakes — made by my roommate Candace and Christina, one of my besties. An insane amount of alcoholic beverages. Gorgeous flowers, wine, champagne and lots of presents.

And then there was the gift I got from the boyfriend. Was it a drink at the bar? No. Flowers? No. A nice bottle of wine? No. A dinner date? No.

And then it happened.

It was Sunday evening. We were hanging out as he was modeled the outfits he had bought over the weekend during his Saturday shopping spree (a stylish collection of Theory pants and Burberry dress shirts).  As I laid down on the couch,  with an ice pack he had put under my shoulders, which were sore from my team crossfit workout earlier that morning, I made a comment how I wanted one of those large ice packs. To which he replied, “I should get you one for your birthday.”

That’s right… an ice pack. Two days AFTER my birthday, the dude is offering to get me an ice pack. To which I replied, “no thank you, I don’t want an ice pack for my birthday.” And he goes on to bury himself deeper in mud by replying “it’s not a cheap ice pack, it’s about $40.”

I’m not sure what was worst, getting nothing thoughtful for my birthday from the guy I’m seeing or being told by some one who had spent probably over a grand on his shopping spree  that he would get me an expensive $40 ice pack for my birthday, which was two days earlier. Unless he meant he would get me an ice pack for my next birthday…

And that’s when things became very clear. This is all I’ll ever get from this dude. An ice pack. If I’m lucky.

To which I say, thanks, but no thanks. The only ice I want for my birthday is this kind…

And there it is… A relationship that started hot, lasted 3 months and ended with ice.

So, note to self… make time for men… not on FBI’s most wanted list.

2011 was a year of healing and growth.  It was also a year of joy. I traveled to Armenia and reconnected with relatives. I hadn’t seen my family in almost 10 years and I got to know my family members as an adult.  I fell in love with my family and discovered how lucky I am to have them in my life, even if they’re about 10,000 kilometers away. Yep. I’m still on the metric system. After 21 years in US, I still think the metric system is superior… and simpler. So I’ll stick with it. Remnants of a communist past (which gave me much better foundation in math and science than the system in the US).

2011 also brought a new chapter in my career. I started a job that I really, truly love. Not just like. Or tolerate. But love. I’m happy. Which makes all the other areas of my life so much better.

And here’s my 2011 in pictures. I can only imagine what 2012 has to offer. Cheers!

Hollywood Sky... My Paradise

The Gorgeous Bride... Anita Getting Married

My Cousin Lilit

My Cousin Maya

aka Billyjan!

My little nephew

My cousin and his beautiful family

My favorite aunt and uncle

My beautiful mom

J'adore Paris

Dancing... with my favorite band...

LudoBites 7.0 Squid, Black Ash, Chorizo

Life is Good

Here’s to 2012… my year. The year of the Dragon.

I have yet to meet the guy who will last forever or for longer than two months. Ok, maybe longer than three months. But I’ve noticed that the minute I start dating someone longer than … oh I don’t know, more than 3 dates, suddenly there’s a whole new world of socializing that opens up. Suddenly, my couple friends want to do more socializing. And it’s not because suddenly they’ve taken interest in my personal life. It’s because I’m no longer the contagious single person. Suddenly they feel like the single-disease has been cured.

I’m just having one of those days when I realize that I’m always the one hosting parties, inviting friends, plus their significant others, and for some reason when they  plan events, the comfort zone only seems to extend to the couple zone.

And I’m over it.

This isn’t the case with all my coupled-up friends. But some of them. And it would be really nice if they got their heads out of their coupled-up-comfort zone and plan a god-damn-fuckin-dinner party with an odd number guest list.

That’s all.

Whew. It felt nice to get this out.

A few weeks after my brief romance came to an end I met a vampire. I was out with a group of friends on Halloween, at the undesirable section of LA, past my 5 mile radius and west of La Brea.  I had no intention of going out. Between travels, breakups and job interviews, I hadn’t had a chance to think about Halloween. But my friend Liz inspired me to join her crew for a pub crawl and I ended up on the west side, in my zombie ballerina finest, getting my drink on somewhere on Main Street, in Santa Monica.

Zombie Ballerina

Sometime after the 3rd glass of wine and the 1st vodka soda I started chatting up with a vampire. I was slightly nervous about running into the-boy-who-wasn’t-into-me at some point during the night – since we share a social circle – so drinks were going down slightly faster than the usual pace. I must have been really buzzed because 1) I thought the vampire was good looking and 2) didn’t notice that he had a slight case of esotropia.

And there I was, flirting with a vampire, giving my real phone number (not my google #) and agreeing to a date.

A few days after, we went out to dinner.

• The vampire came to pick me up for our date and he brought a single red rose. Too much pressure dude!
• In my sober state, I realized that I had very little chemistry with the vampire. He wasn’t exactly Edward or Louis. He was more… Dracula, circa Bela Lugosi.
• We had very little to talk about…
• And he kept staring at me like he was “this” close to biting my neck and draining my blood.

But he was nice and I tried to make the best of it, knowing that there wasn’t going to be a second date.

Then he texted right after the date… “Had a great time. Same time tomorrow.”

I didn’t respond.

Then another text the following day. “Good luck today.”

I didn’t respond.

Then a phone call at 10 a.m. the following day.

It was time to respond, but I was at work and didn’t answer my phone. Instead, I texted.

Zombie Ballerina: “I had a nice time, I just think there is something missing.”

Vampire: Wow.

Vampire: Ok.

Vampire: Will u give it another chance

Zombie Ballerina: “I just don’t think we have enough in common to sustain a conversation.”

Vampire: Really? Wow ok. I suppose I was a bit quiet. I was just feeling u and was feeling good about the energy. I also find u very attractive

Vampire: U r very beautiful

Vampire: How about we see what it’s like being intimate with each other and go from there

Zombie Ballerina: “I’m sorry. I’m just not interested”

Vampire: Ok. Well I wish u the best. U really seem like a great girl

And there you have it. Another episode of “dating in LA.” Hey, at least I didn’t end up at the Cheesecake Factory.

To help me move forward, the universe delivered a new memory on that date.

A night of music and magic under the stars. Me, dancing on stage, with my new favorite band.

Thank you universe.

On March 1, my lovely roommate of two years (and still my good friend) Rachel told me she was moving out. This came as a shock because just a month earlier we had been talking about our living arrangement and she mentioned that she wasn’t planning on moving out for at least another 6-7 months. And exactly two years after my last roommate search, I was back in the same place.

So I posted an ad on craigslist and got a slew of responses. The first response was from a guy who works in my company, in the same division as my ex-bf. Needless to say, I decided to keep searching and found a lovely new roommate.

Now some news from the dating world. The very brief romance with the cute comic/actor didn’t exactly go anywhere. Too bad. He was a good kisser. And in an effort to meet new people I decided to join an online dating site. This time around it’s okcupid. I think I’m about a week away from deactivating my profile. Every time I join an online dating site — usually in the “cold” LA months when the temperatures reach below 60 degrees — I quickly remember why I don’t like these sites.

Last Wednesday, I went on a date. During our email exchanges we discovered that we both like Bar Covell and decided to meet there. Never again. The date lasted about 4 hours, but not because it was going so well. My date did not shut up for 3 hours. He did not stop talking since the minute he saw me. He did not stop talking long enough to hear about the wine. He kept trying to show off his wine knowledge and show how much more he knows about wine than Matthew, my favorite winetender.   Did I mention he did not shut his mouth for 3 hours? I don’t even remember what he was talking about. It was that bad.

My awesome winetender friends could see by the look on my face how miserable I was and sent me a dessert to cheer me up. The red velvet donut kept me going. About 3 hours into our date, while I’m on my 3rd glass of wine and he’s about to start his 4th, I got a chance to talk. I’m pretty sure this only happened because my date was too exhausted after 3 hours of talking nonstop and he needed a break.  I got a few words in during the 4th hour of the date. Which had only lasted this long because I couldn’t get a word in to plan my escape during the first 3 hours of my miserable date.

Then it got better. The check came. He took a very, very, very long pause, examining the bill and in awe of the loyalty discount that was reflected on the check in my honor (since I’m VERY loyal). And he kept looking. And looking. And was not making any efforts to pay for the bill. This was my cue to reach for my wallet. I took some money out to pay for my half. The third time this has happened in my long dating history.

At this point, the 42-yr-old-A.D.D.-boy-who-could-not-shut-up says, “How about we split this one and I take you to a nice dinner next time.” To which I reply, “We’ll see.” My polite way of saying “Fuck no!”

The next day I get a message from him.

“Hi Eliza. I had a really great time with you last night. I’d love to see you again. Maybe we can go out sometime? Or we can just be friends.”

I replied to his voice mail with a text message.

“I had a nice time [obviously lying]. I’m not looking for friends. And I’ll be honest with you. The best way to guarantee there is no 2nd date, is by splitting the check on the first date.”

He responds:

“Ok.”

Followed by:

“Fair enough.”

Followed by:

“Thanks for being honest.”

Followed by:

“I should use that next time. Or does that only work for women?”

Now I know why a decent looking, claiming-to-be-successful guy is single at 42.

And now you know why there are so many smart, gorgeous, accomplished single women in LA. It’s not the City of Angels. It’s the City of Peter-Pan.

Hey, at least I didn’t go to Cheesecake Factory. I never thought I’d have something nice to say about my Cheesecake Factory date, but at least the 26-year old had enough manners to pay for the bill.