As I cruise through the residential streets of Beverly Hills, I notice fewer ladies walking in their wondrous terry cloth (they now descend on Malibu before 8am? perhaps?), the elementary schools are closed (further proof of a higher power), and the certifiable maniacs that call themselves crossing guards have hung-up their STOP signs for the next couple of months (but no doubt are still wearing their laniards and orange vests, bless their little hearts).
I too am still wearing my uniform: every morning I continue to strap on synthetic fibers in hopes that gravity will have mercy on me. I make summer playlists involving songs by the Black Eyed Peas and The Pussycat Dolls digging through my iPod for inspiration. I sit with my schedule each morning and identify the windows of time that will facilitate the feeling of summer as if I didn't have a client at 8am - stop by the pool at noon, a moonpie from Milk at 3pm, happy hour plans before my class at 7:30pm - but there's one moment in my day, my favorite summer ritual, that I don't even have to note in my calendar because there's no way on God's green that I'd ever forget it...
Meat for breakfast.
Yes, that's right: meat for breakfast.
Normally I eat toast with an egg, or toast with peanut butter, toast with jam and always a large espresso beverage of some variety - clearly. But as summer sets in? I'd like a medium rare steak with my toast, please.
It's something about the heat. Once it gets really hot I can't eat much of anything but before it gets hot? I want something that wakes me up, flips me over, and - before I'm even fully awake - lets me know that this is gonna be a great fuckin' day and gives me something to believe in.
This morning I had the second half of a roast beef sandwich purchased from Clementine's in Century City. There was nothing wrong with it. Stacked high with rare roast beef, arugula for days, and a horseradish mustard dressing that was just enough to awaken the senses and compliment (as opposed to crush) my Americano (made with Black Cat Espresso from Intelligentsia...duh). I could have ascended then and there.
Not to mention: I was sated for HOURS. I have this awful theory that some days I only get 30 seconds for every minute before 12pm. Life seems to be racing by and I spend the first half of my day playing catch up. But with meat for breakfast? It's the energetic equivalent of getting two minutes for each one...and in summer? I don't just feel full but, dare I say it, I feel kind of smug. I feel like I've already been and seen the show for which everyone else is still trying to scrounge tickets.
While I highly recommend the rare roast beef at Clementine's, there's also a deeply satisfying breakfast sandwich at Food + Lab that is available before 9am. It involves perfectly toasted wheat bread, a hard boiled egg, farm raised bacon, watercress, and a garlic aioli that leaves you wondering: what took you so long?
Don't question it - just eat it.
Food + Lab
7253 Santa Monica Blvd
West Hollywood, CA 90046
323.851.7120
www.foodlabcatering.com
open 8am - 8pm daily
Clementine
1751 Ensley Ave
Los Angeles, CA 90024
310.552.1080
www.clementineonline.com
open 7am - 7:30pm Monday - Friday;
8am - 5pm Saturday; closed Sunday
final word: Clementine is a delight but can get crowded - call in advance and take some quarters because parking sucks. Food + Lab has a parking lot located off of Poinsettia (just behind the store front) and no phone calls or quarters necessary...you do the math!
Let me tell you something. I read your post this morning, and now two hours later I am back in my house having visited the Telluride Farmer's Market down the street. What did I pick up there? What am I devouring? A hanger steak and egg sandwich, topped with hash browns and caramelized onions and feta, between two pieces of toasted rosemary bread. Thank you. Thank you. CTH
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