My visit to Lucky Devil’s was intended to be an abrupt eat-n-run due to the eminent start time of The Departed at the Mann’s Chinese in Hollywood. This timing was impacted slightly due to the atrocious parking conditions In Hollywood-proper… Well, atrocious for those of us who are allergic to paying for parking. Which I am. Regardless, el_pinko_grande and I eventually decided to use a parking garage close to Lucky Devil’s (On Cherokee itself, I think) that had rates in the range of $2 every 2 hours. Very modest, and it didn’t cause me to break out in hives, so I was happy.
This place ranks at 8.5 on the Hipster meter. (Hipster ranking goes to 11, with the Viper room ranking at 12.) There’s brushed aluminum and wood laminate everywhere, and nary a straight line to be seen in the entire architectural façade. The counter, which opens grandly onto the floor-to-ceiling plate window which rent the soft white underbelly of Hollywood Boulevard asunder to expose it’s entrails and effluvia for our dining enjoyment, was some sort of marble construct. All I know is that it was not travertine. The view from the counter was significantly more interesting than the Discovery Channel, which was playing on their multitude of flat-panel TVs. I very much doubt they were going to change the station when Myth Busters eventually came on. (This is wholly unsubstantiated conjecture.)
The clientele at Lucky Devil’s was standard Hollywood faire. Immediately behind us at the counter was what looked like some greasy wannabe Hollywood business-type, talking bullshit with a homeless tattoo-clad lesbian and her lipstick bedecked companion. Their sexual preference is, of course, conjecture. But they all talked way too faggy to be straight.
The menu didn’t have any Trappiste beer like I had been mislead into expecting, but I was lucky enough to try their St. Bernard, a cidery-tasting brew with a hefty alcohol content. Since Lucky Devil’s is of the Restaurant Mentality of bringing the alcohol before the food, I downed the majority of it before my meal came and had a healthy buzz to carry me through my food tasting. (Lightweight? Yeah, and my wallet appreciated it.)
Ahh, the Food. I ordered the Kobe burger in a rush, at el_pinko_grande's behest, as his description of the burger left no argument as to it’s superiority amongst it’s breed. I tried the Swiss cheese on the burger, again deferring to the suggestion of my more experienced companion, although I’m interested in going back and trying the Chedder. I chose the side salad, rather than the fries as accompaniment to the burger, as is my way. Maybe this was the alcohol talking, but this was quite possibly the best burger I’ve ever had in a restaurant. It wasn’t exactly the most flavorful or lusty of burgers but it was the most consistent through and through. It also didn’t suffer from that “prefab” feeling that most restaurant burgers have. The burger itself wasn’t humongous; It was, in fact, the perfect size for a burger being consumed with a beer and a side salad. It filled me up to just about maximum comfort level without tipping the canoe and knocking me into the rapids of bloating. This was important since after eating, we needed to make our way to the theater about a half-mile away, and we needed to do it quickly to avoid being late.
So we got to the theater about half an hour late. The decision wasn’t long in coming to forgo the movie and just head back home after a brief visit to Beard Papas, a small confectionary in the Americanized-Asian style located right next door to the theater. They have these crème-puffs which are practically perfect in all their crème-puff ways; fresh pastry, manually stuffed with a mild (again, in the Americanized-Asian bakery sort of way) crème whose flavor is actually aided by the light dusting of powdered sugar over the top. I bought a half-dozen. And this weird Chocolate Frondue thingy that resembled a small soufflé but ruptured a warm, bland chocolate filling when I stabbed it with a plastic fork. It wasn’t bad, but considering how decedant it looked, I was expecting a stronger blast of chocolate-o-rama flavor instead of the corn-starchy warm paste that came out. It was still good, it just sat heavily atop the burger I had so recently shoveled down my gullet, and didn’t do anything to complement the meal. Like dance with me when nobody else would, or hold my hand and tell me I’m pretty.
Anyway, that was the evening. Other than an episode or two of Veronica Mars, the evening passed uneventfully.
Oh, and the reason we went to see The Departed is because the Inscrutable Von Wang lied to us about the Dresden Dolls performing at the Henry Fonda theater. Bastard.
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mono_blanco) wrote,
discontent
