The Hungry Cat

I was a very content cat when we left The Hungry Cat last night. We arrived to a unprepossessing sight of a tiny cement-lined restaurant tucked into the Hollywood and Vine shopping complex behind a Borders bookstore. Eating out in Los Angeles is always a shock to me. After doing my internet research on a given restaurant, I somehow expect to be transported back to Boston's Back Bay or the South End, where fine dining resides in my mind.

But we were seated promptly at a dark wood table overlooking the bar and its citrus squeezing devices and esoteric bottles. The waitress brought us oyster crackers and sparkling water, and later a Greyhound for me and a Dark and Stormy for Ryan. We followed those up with shrimp cocktail and a gorgeous raw hamachi pastrami dish with nectarine slices, then Ryan had cockles in a tomato-based broth with chorizo and I had tempura fried squash blossoms. For dessert, a chocolate bread pudding with a creme brulee-like crust. It was utter heaven.

I didn't wear the fancy dress my parents got me (and haven't seen yet) because as ever, casual wear dominated. I miss the fancy of the east coast. Thank goodness we'll be headed back for a visit soon so I can flounce around in my orange ruffles then.