It’s currently 7am, I’m sitting on the rooftop of a downtown hotel; there are clouds and wind but blue skies too, this song is in my ears, there’s hot black coffee to my right and the Los Angeles skyline to my left, and the promise of shrimp tacos at 11am and a Kismet lunch at 2pm. LA is not to everyone’s taste, but it suits me just fine. It’s the smell of jasmine. The fuschia bougainvillea. The smog, the intoxicating sun. The unbroken heat, as Babitz says.
I had every intention of sending a newsletter on Sunday. Yet everything slipped my mind and nothing slipped out of my fingers. As if someone’s switched off a light in my brain, rendering me incapable of doing anything. And so, here we are, halfway through another week – who knows which one? – bookended by Californian bowls, taco trucks, burnt skin and crispy rice, with a few recommendations from the city of angels.
A few LA spots we’ve been to so far: Damian for the best tuna tostada and rice-flour battered fish tacos I’ve ever had; All Time for a truly wonderful crispy rice bowl with fried eggs, salmon and broccoli; Mariscos Jalisco for shrimp tacos and oysters to be slurped down on the sidewalk; Gjusta for the bursting tuna conserva sandwich; Kismet Rotisserie for an exceptional chicken pita.
Tenderherbs always makes me want to eat rice and eggs, which would probably be my last meal on earth (with a side of roast chicken).
Realising (/being told) that I am constantly either apologising or saying thank you to every single person I encounter, including strangers who bump into me. My tombstone will read: Cat Sarsfield, forever grateful and apologetic for absolutely no reason at all.
Here’s a brilliant story about change by author Meg Nolan on WePresent called Ways Of Seeing.
This kitchen that I’ll definitely be visiting while I’m here (and thank you Millie from Gemma Bell Co for all the LA tips).
Listening to this Sad Girl Spring playlist (it really is my season), but mainly this Maggie Rogers song on repeat:
Also this kitchen via Flamingo Estate, and the very expensive candles they make that I’ll definitely be returning home with.
This archive piece on Repeller about cultivating adult friendships around the dinner table.
The California cliché book starter pack that mainly involves Eve’s Hollywood by Eve Babitz and Play It As It Lays by Joan Didion, read by a pool and commented on by every server with a wry smile.
A general combination of salads and fries, which feels like the balance we all need in our lives (with a glass of gossamer-pale rosé on the side).
Not wishing my time away at all, but also excited for not-so-sad girl spring in London (we can live in hope), which will involve the deep fried bread and butter pudding at Cafe Cecilia, chicken and this courgette salad at Royale, countless patio pasta dinners at Jolene, many solo trips to the Ladies Pond and perhaps a birthday margarita at Rubys after tacos at Corrochios on Kingsland Road.