Parents, Ladies, and Celebrities Who Lunch

My parents came to visit for Thanksgiving and it was great! We cooked, ate, brined, talked, ping-ponged, Rummikubed, shopped, and just hung out. My dad is a big pizza aficionado and the newest, most-talked about restaurant in L.A. is Pizzeria Mozza, so we went. I made a lunch reservation--this is one of those places where you have to make a dinner reservation a month in advance unless you want to "dine" at 4:30 or 10:45. When we got there I realized why reservations are so tough to come by. I had thought it would be one of those big "sceney" places, but it was tiny. There were maybe 13 tables and about 20 seats total at the pizza bar and regular bar. We were seated--the three of us--at what I would consider a table for 2. My mom and I were on one side and my dad on the other. But it was fine. The service was excellent and the food divine. Things not to miss if you dine at Mozza: the brussels sprouts antipasto, any bruschetta, the chopped salad, and the fennel sausage pizza. The much talked-about fried squash blossoms were quite forgettable. All three of us said we would definitely go back. A few minutes after we had been seated I noticed 2 men approaching the table next to us. "That guy looks a lot like Ray Romano," I thought to myself. Of course, it WAS Ray Romano--being seated at the next table right next to my dad. Ray and his friend also ordered the brussels sprouts although Ray didn't want to because he said he didn't like them. I restrained myself from joining the conversation and raving about the sprouts. The tables there are so close together that I could have reached over and salted his food. But, of course, being jaded about all the celebrities here, why would I? I discreetly whispered to my mom that he was at the next table. But I couldn't lean over and tell my dad because his hearing is not what it used to be and I knew he would say loudly, "WHO? Ray Who?" So I had to wait til we left the restaurant to tell him of his celebrity non-sighting. Maybe it was a celebrity seating?

A perfect morning? Not eggs-actly

Today Mr. Minivan and I went to a bar/Mexican restaurant to watch the Bears game. Or at least, he went to watch the Bears game. Here in LA, the game started at 10 AM. We walked into this big place with tons of TVs all over, each with little team pennants on them showing which game was on which TV. I noticed many people with football jerseys and caps on. I thought it was only kids who wore team jerseys but I guess I was wrong. Women, too, had jerseys on and some had even flashdanced them up--scissoring them into sexy little tops. I felt as if I were at a costume party without a costume on. And one of the many strange things I noticed this morning was that there were tons of Philadelphia Eagles fans there--all in proper costume. Has everyone from Philadelphia moved to LA? It sort of felt like it.

Mr. Minivan ordered breakfast--huevos rancheros, while I decided to wait. People who came in after us and ordered got served, but no huevos appeared at our table. You would think that for the kitchen in a Mexican restaurant to put out an order of huevos rancheros it would not be a big deal but apparently it was. After about 40 minutes he decided to check on his order. The cute bartender said she would check on it. She came back 5 or so minutes later and said they were working on it. 15 minutes later we checked again. This time a manager said he would check on it and never came back. Yet another cute bartender or waitress checked. Still working on it--but this time she showed us a piece of paper and said "I put the order in!", which, of course, made us feel much better. Finally finally his breakfast arrived. And here's the clincher--as she put the plate of eggs, rice, and beans in front of him she asked, "Do you need silverware with that?" Um....yes, that's how one usually eats eggs. You want some giggles or eyelash batting----maybe a beer or a very simple mixed drink--she's your girl. You want some silverware or some ice in your water--maybe not. So now my theory is that you need some sort of IQ test to work there but that they take all the low scores because the manager is so stupid he thinks the lower scores are better--like in golf.

The Eagles fans occasionally burst into song, singing the Eagles fight song. How cute. I ended up eating nachos for breakfast--not that there's anything wrong with that. Next week we get DirectTV, and I won't have to leave my house to not watch the game. And the service at my house will be much better. I, at least, will come back to tell you you're not getting any food. Oh yeah, and I hear that the Bears crushed Detroit. Another beautiful Sunday in LA.