It’s taken me a few weeks to come back down to earth after all of your generous comments on my last post. Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts and for taking time out of your busy schedules to let me know what’s resonating with you on the site and what you’d love to see more of! I carefully considered each and every one. I have to admit, paralysis set in quickly as I felt the need to really hit this post out of the park (wayyyyy, wayyyy out) after all of those nice word, but then I made a failed dessert recipe and the stomach flu descended upon our house, and I thought it might do to relax for a minute and talk about greener pastures in the form of my recent trip to Los Angeles. For those of you who follow along on Instagram, you probably read about this trip: it was a long girls weekend, but with a twist. You know how sometimes when you travel with a big group (or even a small group), you inevitably end up doing some things you’re not particularly excited about? Maybe you get dragged along to a dinner you didn’t want to go to, or a sports game that doesn’t excite you? Well, the majority of women that gathered in LA are moms of young kids and a weekend away is precious and rare, so it was particularly important that we all got to do what we were most excited about – our getaway’s semi-official name had been You Do You. We all chipped in and rented a house and came together for a shared dinner but beyond that, the hope was that we’d all do exactly what inspires us and lights us up as individuals. No guilt, no hard feelings, no wondering if someone would rather be somewhere else. Just straight up, gloriously selfish time doing exactly what we all needed to do for ourselves. I’ll show you around mine.
Now I feel like I should preface this post by saying that this is far from a traditional travel guide as one of my main goals in LA was to really decompress, read, sleep in, and drink my coffee while it’s still hot. (You parents of smaller people out there know what I’m talking about. It’s the little things.) I wasn’t as concerned with seeing grand sights, landmarks or museums on this visit. I should also say that I extended my weekend to have a few nights by myself, so I’ll backup and start there.
I flew into LA Wednesday evening and stayed at The Line Hotel in Koreatown before meeting up with our group at the house we rented in Venice. The Line was great: not as trendy as The Ace (which has made me feel old in the last few years); great views of the Hollywood Hills, and really fun, inventive food. I ended up ordering room service noodles and a Negroni and going to bed early (I’ve had much worse nights), and woke the next morning ready to explore.
The first order of business was to head downtown to check out Eggslut, which I’d heard had legendary egg sandwiches. What I hadn’t heard about were the lines at Eggslut, so while the sandwich itself was mighty fine indeed, I’m not entirely sure I’d do it again. But the sun was out and Eggslut’s located inside Grand Central Market, which is a really cool open-air food hall with all kinds of treats, good coffee, fancy juice, baked goods, chocolate — you name it. So it was a nice mini introduction to some of LA’s popular food spots.
That afternoon, I headed to Wii spa, a great Korean spa that specializes in those brutal naked body scrubs (have you heard of these?!) and great shiatsu massage. If you find yourself with a free afternoon in downtown LA and are into things like humbling naked body scrubs, I can’t recommend it enough. Even if you’re not, they have a really relaxing rooftop deck that feels more like a fancy hotel, and a lot of breezy common spaces where you can lounge and unwind. So I went and soaked and scrubbed and walked back to the hotel to get ready to meet up with my friends Ashley, who’d flown in early as well, and Nicole for dinner at local spot, Escala. Nicole has a really special book that just came out and a son just about Oliver’s age, so we all chatted about writing and creativity and motherhood and ate marginal kale salad and kimchi mac and cheese. After dinner, Ashley and I hobbled back to the hotel, both in incredibly ill-advised footwear.
The next morning, I headed to Sqirl for some of that famed ricotta toast and jam. While I know it’s become a bit of an LA breakfast cliche of sorts, I really respect what Jessica Koslow is doing there and have long loved her laid back, vegetable / grain-heavy approach to food. I ordered one of those dreamy toasts (soft, fragrant brioche under a pillowy, luscious layer of ricotta and jam!) and a seasonal special of braised chickpeas and greens with harissa and poached eggs. Oh, and it came with long toast. Yes, apparently they literally mean long toast (as you can see in the photo below). While I’ve never been a real fan of eating out solo, I made a point to take my time and not worry if someone else looked like they needed my table. I tried to stay off of my phone, pulled out my journal, and just really appreciated that famous-for-a-reason toast. Good God.
After strolling the neighborhood a bit, I drove over to Venice to meet up with a few friends and get settled in our house for the weekend. While I wasn’t the slightest bit hungry, we were all excited to check out Rose Cafe and had a little time to kill before check in, so we shared a few small things and started brainstorming for the weekend ahead. I realize there are a million kale salads out there in the universe, but the one at Rose Cafe — with pickled golden raisins, mint, thinly sliced onions, lots of bread crumbs and Parmesan — is special. I’d return for that salad, those beautiful baked goods, and that airy expansive space any day.
Throughout the afternoon, ladies started trickling in from the airport and Julie, our fearless leader, arranged to have all kinds of snacks and wine and fizzy water ready for everyone at the house. That evening was the only real solid dinner plan we had as a group all weekend, and it was a good one: Gjelina. We seem to have really scored with a long table out on the patio where there was a warm breeze and lots of wine and friends new and old (I’d only met five of the ten women before that weekend). One end of the table just kept ordering food that made it’s way down to our end — from wood-fired pizzas to roasted cauliflower and warm date cake, it was a memorable meal to kick off what would be a great time together.
The next morning was where You Do You really came into its own. A few ladies took off on a long run, others stayed by the pool or walked downtown, and my new friend Azurae and I decided to check out a yoga class at Love Yoga. I feel like I could write a whole blog post on how incredibly, fascinating-ly LA our yoga class was, but I’ll instead just say that while it wouldn’t be my home studio if I lived in LA, it always feels good to move and breathe (how’s that for diplomatic?).
After yoga, we stopped at the much-talked about and sometimes-mocked Moonjuice for a pricey green juice (I couldn’t help myself; I had to see what all the fuss was about), after which, deciding that balance is always important and now very much called for, we cruised over to Gjusta for a flaky croissant. I could’ve spent two hours at Gjusta just people-watching, and ogling all the baked goods and crusty breads and bagels and smoked fish and pickled things and interesting cookies and brownies made with flours I’m excited about. Those of you who recommended it were right: it’s an LA must.
While we’d all hoped and hoped for some hot LA sun (Seattleites are a desperate lot this time of year), the weather had – so far – been pretty mild and, occasionally, even a bit chilly. But when we walked out of Gjusta the clouds parted and we booked it home to sit by the pool for a good couple of hours. You Do You was in full effect at this point, ladies wandering in and out throughout the afternoon. I ended up sneaking away to cruise Abbot Kinney Boulevard by myself for a bit where I stumbled into some great shops (Burro and Huset were a few favorites) and treated myself to a late lunch at The Butcher’s Daughter which was my favorite casual meal in LA. The food is imaginative, interesting and solid (I had a Cauliflower “grits” dish I want to recreate for the blog) and the space is just beautiful. Go if you have the chance!
That night, we got casual Mexican food and picked up pints of ice cream from Jeni’s (my first time at an actual scoop shop!) to take back to the house. The weekend was coming to a close, and we all started talking flight logistics and household chores to get everything in order before we headed out. I watched an incredible episode of Chef’s Table on Jeong Kwan (thank you, Ashley!) on the plane home, finished my book, and let the weekend settle in. I was impressed that You Do You went off without a hitch: everyone respected each others’ space and we all encouraged one another to check out things that interested us. There was no guilt or pretense or expectation. While I can’t say that I’ve ever been a ‘girls weekend kinda girl’, I think there’s something about having Oliver that’s changed me a little: it’s nice to get away with ladies who share the desire to … get away. That’s it. And who respect what a big and fortunate and sacred thing that is.
In a recent post on Cup of Jo, Danielle Aceino was interviewed about her beauty routine, but several lines in particular – an aside, almost – really hit home: “Let yourself be inspired by yourself and be alive to who you are. Our unedited self is gorgeous and profound; it guides everything else.” I tucked this in my pocket in Los Angeles and carried it around with me. When I felt slightly uncomfortable at the table dining alone or unsure what I should do with a chunk of time in between more structured activities, I’d remind myself to just sit and listen for a minute. Hang with myself. Get to know myself as a person again — without a little one tugging at my jeans or business emails awaiting replies. And I don’t think you need a sunny city or a You Do You escape to do that. I think sometimes it takes a lot of deliberate effort to get there and becomes really difficult when our daily routines feel constraining, but one thing I took home with me: a solo meal out by yourself or a long walk to nowhere in particular is a mighty fine start.
On Monday our little family of three is headed to the airport at 6 am to board our first with-baby cross-country trip. We'll be visiting Sam's family in New Jersey for a few days, then renting a car and driving over to meet up with my family at my mom's lake house in the Adirondacks. Sam's younger sister and her kids have yet to meet Oliver; my grandpa has yet to meet him, and Oliver has yet to take a dunk in a lake, see a firefly, or spend quality time with energetic dogs -- of which there will be three. A lot of firsts. This week my family has been madly texting, volunteering to make certain meals or sweets on assigned days while we're at the cabin and it got me thinking about really simple, effortless summer desserts -- in particular, ones that you can make while staying in a house with an unfamiliar kitchen and unfamiliar equipment and still do a pretty bang-up job. I think fruit crisp is just that thing.
In a few short weeks, we're headed to New York, Vermont and New Jersey to visit family and see my sister Zoe get married. In starting to think through the trip and do a little planning, I found Oliver the cutest tiny-person dress shoes I've ever seen (and he's quite smitten with them), sussed out childcare options for the night of the wedding, and found what feels like the most expensive (and last) rental car in the state of New Jersey. I try very hard not to be one of Those People that begins lamenting the loss of a season before it's remotely appropriate to do so, but this year, as we'll be gone much of September, I've felt a bit of a 'hurry, make all the summery things!' feeling set in. So we've been managing increasingly busy days punctuated with zucchini noodle salads, gazpacho, corn on the cob and homemade popsicles (preferably eaten shirtless outside followed by a good, solid sprinkler run for one small person in particular. Not naming any names).
Somehow, in what seems to have been a blink of an eye, we have a six month old baby. In some ways I can't remember a time we didn't have an Oliver, and in other ways it's all a blur broken up by a few holidays (a Thanksgiving thanks to grocery store takeout, and our very first Christmas in Seattle), a few family visits, a one-day road trip to Portland, a birthday dinner out, a birthday cake, weekend drives to nowhere in particular, swimming at the pool with Oliver, weekly get-togethers with our parent's group, doctor's visits, hundreds of walks around the neighborhood, hundreds of cups of coffee, dozens (or more?) of scoops of ice cream. Most of the worrying about keeping a baby alive has made way for other concerns, and Oliver's need for constant stimulation or soothing walks and car rides has been traded for stretches of time playing with a new toy or checking out his surroundings. In truth, it's thanks to that tiny bit of baby independence that this humble, summery cake came to be in the first place. So we've all got an Oliver to thank for that. Or, really, we have a Yossi Arefi to thank, as it's from her beautiful new cookbook that I've bookmarked heavily and am eager to continue exploring.
A triple berry summer crisp made with oats, quinoa flakes and hazelnuts. Summer in a skillet.
I had a weak moment on our honeymoon in Italy when I decided that I should be making gelato for a living. My enthusiasm for Italian gelato wasn't surprising to anyone. I'd done extensive research, made lists, had Sam map out cities in terms of where the best gelaterias were. I took notes and photos and hemmed and hawed over flavor choices: Sicilian Pistachio! Chestnut Honey! Sweet Cheese, Almond and Fig! In truth, on that particular trip, I cared far more about treats, sunshine, and cobblestone walks than I cared about famous landmarks or tourist attractions, often leaving the camera back at the hotel in favor of my small black notebook which housed detailed jottings on dessert discoveries in each city we visited. Our friends Matteo and Jessica happened to be in Naples on the one night we were there, and we all went out for pizza together followed by a long stroll around the city. At some point the conversation turned to gelato (as it's bound to) and Matteo brought up the famous school in Bologna where many renowned gelato artisans study. My wheels were spinning. Maybe we should visit Bologna. I should see this school! I should talk to these students! I could make Sicilian Pistachio; Chestnut Honey; and Sweet Cheese, Almond and Fig each and every day of our lives. Or at the very least, travel to Bologna to learn how and then come back to Seattle to take our Northwest city by storm. Well here we are six months later, back to reality, and the impetus to pack up my bags and head for Bologna has subsided for the time being ... but not the unwavering gusto to sample. That part will always be with me. It's been awhile since I mixed up a batch of ice cream at home, but the other day a beautiful new cookbook landed on my doorstep and I flipped right to a recipe for dark chocolate sorbet with toasty, salty almonds. I didn't need much convincing.