This particular joint is known for great food, a fantastic bar and (of course) famous patrons. It's the sort of place where you have a great meal and realize that the guy who suggested your dessert is a regular on some TV show, and the men hanging out at the bar are old, old, old school bigwheels. The place has only been around a few years, but they try to pull off that swingin' bachelor pad vibe of yesteryear, playing Rat Pack music over the speakers and lining the walls with chunky stone and dark wood. You can actually order a $4000 bottle of wine with dinner if you felt like it. The waiters are all comedians and the food is amazing.
One of the fun parts of living in LA is to be exposed to little treats like this place. Everybody was terribly nice and friendly, but it was soooooooo Beverly Hills. And by that, I mean most of the folks there were rich. I'm excluding myself, of course. But you could practically smell the old money - it was kind of bizarre.
As we were leaving the joint, I had to run to the restroom and my friend went to the other side of the bar to wait for me. This meant that once I went to find him, I had to walk the gauntlet through a crowd a much older men who were all dressed to the business casual nines. Most of these men had lovely younger ladies with them, but I was still a bit of a distraction, it seemed. But in a polite, older guy way. And just before I popped out of the crowd, the gentleman who turned to greet me and excuse himself as he moved aside with the tiniest flourish and a crooked smile was really familiar. Wasn't till I passed him that I realized who it was.
Yep, the king of the Playboys himself, Mr. Hefner. Figures - he knows a thing or two about meat.
