Dumb weekend.
Your Perks: 1) The perfect Oscar-season date—Umami burgers, beers and tickets to a Best Picture–nominated movie at The Grove. (Your valet: handled.) 2) 30% off the Rolls-Royce of earphones, made from beech wood. 3) Finely tailored dress shirts from Europe for 36% off. Treat yourself.
Enter Allumette. Sit down. There. Your part is done, because they’ve ditched that strange “normal menu” situation—now you’re getting five-course tastings of always-changing dishes like pasilla chili with blue prawns. If you must go à la carte, you still can at the bar. Your bar needs remain pretty specific...
Valentine’s Day Option A: Low-lit dinner. Flowers. That kind of thing. Valentine’s Option B: Dancing to funk and soul bands until 1am in Grand Park, with drinks from the Echo and a lobster-roll truck. Option A probably should have been figured out by now.
Pheromones supposedly attract other humans, so this could make for an interesting Friday: 1) Go to the Four Seasons. 2) Let them do a new massage that involves rubbing pheromones all over your body. 3) Step outside and let the chips fall where they may.
Saturday morning, you’ll probably wake up with no pants on. Good. Stay that way. Because a few hundred good Samaritans plan to run a mile around West Hollywood Park in their underwear for charity. And you need to work on that winter tan anyway.
Black truffles = good. Spherified mussels = sure, great. Black truffles on spherified mussels = Saam. For the next month, the José Andrés restaurant-behind-a-restaurant is going nuts with 18 black-truffle-y courses, and none of the courses are, like, risotto.
