I decided to take Boy Wonder out to dinner for all of his hard work lately. Being Monday we had few options, until he suggested the new space that recently opened up in WeHo across Larrabee Street from East West called Eleven. We had been watching this space go through a massive renovation lately with its mosaic patio and concert style lighting that we would see at night.

The place is two stories, lit on multi-levels with warm, orange light and square decorations creating a strong, secure confident space. Above the front door is a DJ booth like no other. Appropriately at 11 the place turns into a lounge, removing the tables upstairs allowing for patrons to dance and hang out in this masterfully done atmosphere. The “booth” looks out over the entire space and is lit like a stage allowing the music man to interact with his subjects creating a harmony between them. Many of my DJ friends have expressed countless times that they perform better when they have a visual and an exchange of energy between them and the guests.

I always begin my critique of a restaurant when I walk in and meet the host or hostess. Our hostess was illuminated with personality, walked us upstairs to a perfect table and told us that she would be coming back to ensure our experience was nothing short of wonderful. So far so good; very good, in fact.

The waiter was from Australia and with that accent was sure to get me salivating long before anything else. He presented us with a drink menu and wine list first. I love that. When I was back in Boston I would always allow my guests to enjoy their arrival by offering that they sit with an aperitif of some sort before continuing with the dinner menu. This was of course done Sunday through Wednesday when the time to turn the table was not as important as the guests’ relaxation and enjoyment of the ambiance and everything thereafter. There was no rush for anything and we were presented with the dinner menu after our wine was delivered, which was a Pinot from the Carneros region here in CA.

On a Monday night you can expect a more relaxed vibe in restaurant service, but the leisurely pace we experienced had nothing to do with slow trade. The staff paid close attention to our needs to ensure that we savored every moment and that is exactly what we did.

If there is Tuna Tartare on the menu that is always our first course. We were not disappointed. This was not your run-of-the-mill tartare. It was Japanese Hamachi with Blue Fin Tuna Tartare. It was accompanied by a Cucumber, Avocado and Daikon Salad. The presentation was on a large, rectangular plate that allowed for one of us to eat the Blue Fin while the other was busy deconstructing the Hamachi. The pieces were more than adequate. They were thick slabs of succulent flesh wrapped around the salad creating two towers of decadence. The classic paring of the Daikon and Cucumber was elevated a notch with the inspired addition of avocado and a drizzle of Yuzo Ponzu.

For my main course I had a Pan Roasted Cod Filet with Romesco, Chorizo, Clams and White Beans. The cod was finished with a bright Garlic Parsley broth and toasted almonds. I was a bit hesitant with this dish; the long list of accompaniments was a little concerning. My reservations were not justified. It could not have been done better. A fish such as Cod was made to be paired with subtle compliments like Chorizo and White Beans. The Parsley broth was superb and the chef is genius. This dish was all about the ways that flavors can tease and play on the palate in a scrimmage of taste and texture. I was most impressed with the size of the portion. Just as I was saying to myself, “I had better stop now to save room for dessert” I was lifting my fork with the last bite.

Boy Wonder had a Macadamian Nut Crusted Maple Leaf Duck Breast with a Celery Root puree, Swiss Chard, Mizuna Radicchio, Golden Raisins and Black Trumpet Mushrooms in a Wild Huckleberry Sauce. My concern with the cod also extended to the Duck, but it should come to no surprise to you that my fears were unfounded. The Huckleberry sauce is what tied this dish together; the dark sweet flavor profile was a harmonious match for the rich and savory duck breast. The radicchio, spinach and celeriac gave the perfect amount of earthy tones to balance out the rich and sweet elements. I watched Boy Wonder’s eyes sing along with the dish and I knew that this was going down in the food books as the best meal yet.

For dessert I was pleased to see a Chocolate Crème Brule. I requested that along with two glasses of a Tawny Port, a fortified wine from Portugal that I find is always a good pair with chocolate. Unfortunately this fell behind the first and second course in presentation and taste. It was rather large sitting quietly on a dish with a lonely dusting of powdered sugar. The chocolate was bitter and immediately put me and the port off. There was also one more thing that I have to say on the note of lacking and falling behind. I only say this because it is a pet peeve of mine and has been for years. The salt and pepper shaker should be removed after the main course has been cleared to finish the meal and introduce a new course, dessert. One does not need to season their Crème Brule or any other dessert for that matter; it is part of the meal that, like the plates, should be removed.

The wait staff, the décor, the food and everything in between was absolutely superb and executed with pride and excellence. And by the way, our hostess did come back just in time to find us purring with delight into the final sips of our Pinot.

Having friends down here on my home turf is something I really enjoy; and it doesn’t happen enough - believe me. So I was quite pleased when Boy Wonder said he would be able to come out for a visit this weekend. We had a project to work on and many things to discuss, but that was just the side salad to our main course of relaxation and fun.

A co-worker of mine invited us over for dinner Saturday night. His boyfriend cooked a traditional French dinner, a tarragon turkey breast with country style potatoes. It was delicious and very heavy, it was French after all. After that we all went over to Hunters for a little outing. We were sitting outside and my friend Michael remarked that he loves raffles and always wins; we were about to be asked to participate in the raffle they were having later. The man did not ask Boy Wonder or me to purchase any tickets, but gave Michael and his partner two for free. Michael shouted with glee and proceeded to tell us what he has won in the past. He really has won quite a bit. At about 11:30 they began to announce the winning numbers. Michael got the tickets out of his pocket in a confident stride and asked “So what am I winning?” I had no clue since I was left out of the pool. The first number was drawn. Not his. The second was announced and as cool as a clam Michael said “Ok I’ll be right back, I won” I didn’t believe him as he walked towards the table in the front to claim his prize. He returned moments later with two tickets to “Taste of Palm Springs”, sponsored by Kaluha. It is a dinner event with food and wine donated by local restaurants and wineries; it is a chance for them to showcase their products to the public in the hopes that they will either return for dinner or keep them in mind when choosing a wine for their next party. It should be really cool and since Michael won’t be here I get to go for him!

Sunday it was time to work, but not before a little brunch. I do not eat out here so the choice for brunch was left to an unverified recommendation from someone. “A Bit of Country” is what the place was called, but soon after we were seated I thought it would be best if it were re-named “A Bit of Crap”. Our cutlery was a step above plastic and the chairs were clearly designed for different tables; I almost asked for a booster seat. Our waitress was either completely swamped or completely oblivious, either way I was not happy. I gave her thirty seconds to come back for our order after arriving earlier to take our drink requests. After seeing her race frantically from front to back several times all the while apologizing to the tables around us for just about everything I began to count a little faster. She came back at 26. We gave her our order and she asked if we wanted anything to drink - again. We told her just coffee. She giggled and apologized - again.

Everything came to the table at about 15 min thereafter. Boy Wonder was pleased with his waffle and was happy to see the butter was melted, probably because she forgot about the dish sitting under a heat lamp. My eggs were scrambled with Chorizo and resembled Kibbles and Bits. This was not what I had envisioned and it reminded me just why I cook at home.

After that culinary insult we were off to the Aerial Tramway, a huge rotating cable car, (the largest in the Western Hemisphere) and Palm Springs’ main attraction. It goes right to the top of Southern California’s second highest peak. Going from 75 degrees, flip flops and palm trees to snow, pine cones and boots was something. I had been up there before, but that did not help me remember to wear boots; I had socks with my athletic sandals thinking it would be sufficient. As my feet began to get wet with snow I cursed myself for such a stupid oversight. Still we had a nice hike and the ride is always fun - definitely a “must-do” when you’re here. Just get a load of the view.

Lunch was better, kind of, at least for me. We ate Mexican. Not because we wanted to, but because we couldn’t come up with a better idea when we discovered the vegetarian restaurant we wanted to try is closed on Sundays. I had fish tacos and Boy Wonder was brave and ordered the ceviche. The fish was not so fresh. He craved bread, anything to try and remove the memory of the pasty dish. Right after that near mid day disaster meal it was time to get to work for the next 4 hours. I think it went well, time will tell, but I can’t right now because it’s a secret.

I am happy to report that dinner went very well. We had tapas at “Azul”, a cute little outdoor space that serves till 2, every day. Poor guys. We had deep fried wonton blue crab ravioli over shitakes in a light cream sauce, beef skewers and a cold tomato, eggplant napoleon with Buffalo Mozzarella dressed with Balsamic. We hashed around ideas, talked about what we liked and what we didn’t about our work day and grooved to some really great tunes.

It was a great weekend even if the food wasn’t.

I couldn’t wait to get to the hotel and write this down. Tonight’s meal was absolutely delish! Scott knows the owners of Geronimo. Although neither of them were present, we had an incredible meal.

The place smelled of perfection - always a good sign. You can tell how good a restaurant will be by how you are greeted at the door. We stood only a minute before the host approached and told us he was glad we were here. This was a first, nobody has ever used that welcome line! The place was tastefully decorated with a Southwestern motif and accents of stainless steel. Chic. The stemware was either Reidel or Spiegle I couldn’t tell, but you could hardly go wrong with either.

Johnathan, our waiter, was very professional except for being guilty of practicing one of my biggest pet peeves. He asked if everything was OK after every course and on one occasion approached with the inquiry before I could get my fork into the tart. One should assume in a place like this that everything is wonderful and if there is a problem for whatever reason, you are around making yourself seen by the guest so they can get your attention if need be. That’s just me.

I always enjoy doing the chef’s tasting menu when I can. Geronimo fortunately had two, a seafood menu and meat menu, both came with the option to have the courses paired with a selected wine. I opted for the meat and Scott the seafood. I had decided against the wine pairing for I felt that the varietals were a little weak. Scott chose the wine pairing; his selections were much more suited for those varietals. Now for the money shot.

I began with a warm tart of olive oil marinated tomatoes with olive oil infused goat cheese over smoked salmon, egg salad. Delicate and mighty tasty I thought the cheese was a bit excessive for the size of the tart. Next, Scott was served grilled Diver scallops with a petite frisee salade and a parsley chimi churi. I enjoyed butter braised Morel mushrooms with Maytag Bleu dressed Boston lettuce. At this point I ordered a glass of Zinfandel by Trinitas, a domestic and Scott had a local sparkling Blanc de Noir, a sparkling wine made from pinot noir grapes.

A delicate pairing of subtle well done textures set the mood for our next course. I am picky when it comes to dressing; often times asking for it on the side. I should have done it here, but I thought it might sound rude. The lettuce, although perfect in size and crunch, was drenched in the dressing and the addition of dry crumbles added to the overdose. The mushrooms were braised long enough to take on a buttery note and seared just enough to shroud the buggers in a veil of thin carmelization. At this point we were served an Intermezzo, a in between petit course that in theory is supposed to clean the palate and is usually sorbet. The sorbet du jour was coconut and it was sublime.

For the main event I had oven roasted lamb “Diane” with a green peppercorn cognac cream and fingerling potatoes. I ordered a merlot out of the vineyard of Robert Sinskey. To go with his ZD chardonnay, Scott had an Hawaiian tuna steak with Japanese horseradish potatoes and a tomato scallion compote with a lime soy shrimp fond. This was orgasmic as was my lamb. It was so good that Scott, not usually a fan of lamb had two bites.

To finish I had a duo of cheesecake, Bailey’s and toffee. A chocolate mousse and flourless chocolate cake sent Scott into chocolate convulsions. I though his Graham’s port was a poor choice; the sweetness dominated instead of complimenting. I wish we had saved some for later, I’m hungry again!

We played tourists today around the French Quarter. Scott is a great guy for this. He loves to see things and doesn’t mind taking the reins and making everything happen. I swear he must have a GPS chip embedded in his wrist or something. Today was a home game for the New Orleans Saints and the Philly Eagles. All day we saw locals sporting Fleur De Lys decals on their faces and clothes sipping god-knows-what from outlandish oversized plastic cups. At about 4 it started to clear out and the swelling excitement subsided… for the time being.

We ate at a restaurant of Scott’s choice, K-Paul’s Louisiana Kitchen in the French Quarter. It was really good and very rich. I remembered the feeling of impending internal rupture from the night before and took it easy this time around. I had a prosciutto, basil and ricotta cheese stuffed pork chop with fondant potatoes and perfectly steamed veggies. Scott ordered a blackened fillet with the classic mash and vegetable sides done to perfection. To begin, fried rabbit tenderloin with honey mustard reminded me of a chicken tender I had while playing pool the week before. A Gigondas accompanied us through our edible journey through K-Paul’s Kitchen. Half way through we were visited by a 4 man band playing some authentic Creole tunes. Unfortunately, due to a lot of city living my first reaction was annoyance because I did not feel like being asked for money. The restaurant didn’t seem the type to allow that sort of intrusion, but you never know so I listened and tapped my foot quietly while they played.

At the end of the set they thanked us for dining there and explained that the chef put some of his profits back into the community by feeding the men and women who came here to help rebuild the city. That made a very big difference to me.

We took a stroll on Bourbon St after dinner when the last play in the game was made to put the Saints into a close but victorious win. The level of excitement surged like an inebriated buzz with “Who Dat” chanted over and over again. It is some local expression relating to some football thing. I saw some guy earlier that day wearing a shirt with that saying and just thought he was illiterate. I had no idea it was a cultural thing.

I must say that New Orleans is quite the city. The energy is unlike anything I have felt before; I am reminded of Key West with a European flair. The locals are brave, strong folks that have managed to pull through and remain strong in the wake of our nation’s worst natural disaster.

This is one of the great food cities in the U.S. We ate at NOLA. It is owned by the eclectic Emeril, and it shows. The kitchen is open and the decor is very bright and showy with a definite presence, one much like you see on his show.

We started with a Duck Confit pizza and the Gumbo of the day, chicken and Andoulie sausage. Main courses were Shrimp and Grits, cheddar cheese grits with cremini mushrooms, bacon and grilled shrimp dressed with an ancho sauce. We also shared a hickory smoked half duck with haricot verts and cornbread pudding. They had a St. Joseph by Guigal on the list and being that St. Jo is my favorite region in the Rhone Valley we had ourselves a winner. I was a little concerned though because I was stuffed yet still had about a glass of wine left. The bartender kindly reminded me that I was not in Kansas anymore as she took the Riedel glass and poured the contents into a plastic cup. Oh… My… God…

I must say that it was really nice to be able to purchase a beer at one bar and when we decided that it was time for relocation we just left; no need to worry about finishing your beer because you take it with you! We strolled around Bourbon street and watched the drunks in high heels and polo shirts stumble around a street littered with glowing beer mugs and strands of metallic beads. At about 3am it was time to call it quits and return to our camp to rest up for a day of sober, sunlit exploration.