Notes from a Napkin LA

Have you ever walked into a restaurant and immediately thought: Nope. That was exactly my reaction upon stepping into Pacific Catch in Santa Monica. Ambience goes a long way in shaping first impressions, and mine was “head for the hills!” The space looked disheveled — bar stools askew, unbussed tables — more like one of Mr. Pickey’s bachelor friend’s apartments than a proper dining room. Our server eventually approached, but even something as simple as water became an ordeal. After asking for still water with ice, we waited nearly 20 minutes. When it arrived, there was no ice. Not exactly a promising start. We were four hungry diners, and began with the Coconut Shrimp , which, to be fair, was the highlight of the meal. The shrimp were crisp and flavorful, with a sweet chili sauce that worked. Unfortunately, everything went downhill from there. Cabo Calamari : Crispy on the outside, but the flavor was disappointing. Easily one of the worst calamari dishes I’ve had. Salmon Patag...

  On a blindingly sunny Saturday morning, Mr. Picky, Murphy the Doodle (aka Mr. Doodle, aka Furry Food Inspector), and I set out for Hermosa Beach on a noble quest: brunch at Martha’s , the brunch mothership of Hermosa. When we arrived, the line looked like it could qualify as its own marathon event, wrapping nearly around the block. We slapped our name on the list and did what any sane, hungry people would do—we took a 30-minute boardwalk stroll, mostly to distract ourselves from fainting at the smell of bacon wafting through the air. At last, we scored a shady table big enough for the three of us—yes, Murphy too, because obviously this dog wasn’t about to be left out of a breakfast party. Ordering was the real struggle. The menu read like a love letter to food: pancakes, burgers, omelets, burritos—basically a catalog of “yes, please.” Mr. Picky ordered what he swears was the best Arnold Palmer of his life . He announced this with such conviction that I thought he might propo...