If it had been pouring rain, I’d have thought this Korean BBQ restaurant, Quarters, a scene straight out of Blade Runner. This was LA, after all.
A dark and moody atmosphere with thudding, loud music. Grills inset into the tables, billowing with savory clouds of smoke. Waiters in black showed off mad skills with tongs and scissors. The meat just kept coming!
Small plates offered up greens, sprouts, scallion pancakes, pickled veggies, and all manner of hot sauces. It was exotic and delicious.
This was September, 2018. I guess I’m still catching up with myself. This might have been my favorite dining experience while traveling last year, although the taco truck a few blocks away was a close second. And the place at the base of Mt. Hood was really good, too.
The taco truck had a line that snaked through the lot out onto the street. The good ones always do. A lot of humanity there: the mother holding a vomiting baby, a dog licking up the puke, earning him a kick from a four year old (wonder where he learned that), a lanky, tall guy begging up and down the line. It was a well-practiced spiel. You kind of had to respect that. He worked at the church just over there. No, he wasn’t a user. He wasn’t begging, in fact. Okay, sure.
I abandoned the line to go over and watch the pork carver — a young man skilled with a knife. I loved to watch him flip pineapple chips into the open taco waiting in his other hand. Such precision! Such drama! Poor K was left in line, the lanky guy continuing on without missing a beat. Like I said, admirable. We ended up giving him and a few other homeless men money that trip, but it felt useless, maybe? They were everywhere. Chapped feet. Carts with sleeping bags. Those haunted faces. A problem so much bigger than emptying one’s wallet on a Saturday night.
This was nothing, my son told us. We oughta see ‘tent city.’ Blocks and blocks of the homeless. Like a refugee camp.
Instead, we went to one of the most interesting and beautiful monuments to wealth on the planet — the Getty Museum. One of Getty’s admirable legacies? Admission is free.
Five months is a long time, sometimes. This five months was. The ongoing onslaught of news, turning weeks into months and months into years. My sister’s decline. D’s success with EMT training. A break up.
And it just. Keeps. Coming.
Today, Barr will be appointed AG. Already dipshit in chief has offered his quid (or is it his quo?) — a position on the WH legal team for Barr’s son-in-law and a position in Treasury for Barr’s daughter.
No wonder a nice meal ranks high on the list of good experiences these days!
I enjoyed the visit. The BBQ sounds incredible. I find it so hard to understand how so much wealth can exist alongside so much poverty. What a time you have had. Keep remembering the good times.
great photos, I really should have gone to the Getty Museum rather than Venice Beach for my day in LA a few years back!
We did both. Hi brow. Low brow. They’re both of interest. But you would love the Getty, I know.
My days have been dragging along and the roller coaster weather’s been a bit battering. I would love to live at the Getty for a few months in some private room with a view of sky, ordering out eating in and taking photographs (yours are always wonderful). CHECK YOUR EMAIL for what I sent on The Slave Bible; about nine days ago. Now, after foolish and wandering young neighbors who care not to think of the disturbances their comings and goings out loud have disturbed me night and day since Friday, I think I might catch some shut eye before resuming my attention to life on poor old planet E.
Your vision of respite at the Getty is a lovely one! I can see from your window photographs that the light begins to show signs of the season turning. Lots of winter to come; tho no doubt.
Haven’t seen bible link but did receive an amazing gift yesterday. Sent you an email.