RANDOM TANGENT ALERT:
So. I pride myself on being able to out run the cops after I’m caught speeding. Is it a trait I’m proud of? Yes. Will it be my downfall one day? “It is certain”, an 8 ball would say.
Having just left Fred 62, my favorite breakfast spot in Los Feliz, I whizzed past a cop, anxiously looking at my rear view mirror to watch it turn on it’s cherries and attempt a u-turn to bust me.
I sped up (naturally) and cut off a big bus and screached up La Brea, pulled into a vacant Rite Aid parking lot and waited a few beats next to a smelly dumpster.
Then hauled ass back up La Brea and made the first right down an abandoned street. Phew! Arrest avoided!
Anyways, I’ve been to Fred 62 about 62 times, it’s just pretty damn good is all. Don’t argue with me. You’ll lose. I just out ran the law, after all!
Their breakfasts’ are incredible, they make a french toast dipped in corn flakes (Bearded Mr. Frenchy) and the inimitable Santa Fe Fritata. So, I was curious to see what their dinner’s entailed.
After work, I headed on over to “Thelma and Louise’s” house where their friend A.R. would be picking us up to go on our Sierra Club Nerd Hike in Griffith Park. Yes, strangers actually meet to go hiking. I had NO idea.
When we arrived at the park, I immediately judged the crowd, as usual. I was disappointed, however, that the only narrow minded conclusion I could draw was that; here were a bunch of normal, every day people.
In fact, if this was a casting call, requesting slightly outdoorsy average joes, everyone here would have been employed.
It turned out to be an intense, mainly uphill, rock scrambling workout! Who knew? The leader of the pack was this older hobbit character with a walking stick, speeding up the rocks at the speed of a much younger hobbit.
Anyways, we were famished after the excursion and decided on Fred 62 for din din where I ordered something called the SWS. Like a southwest chicken salad, except the fingers, sorry I mean chicken was fried. Good stuff. I did pour mounds of Sriracha hot sauce all over it, as I tend to do. Please don’t ask what that white sauce all over it is.
Fred 62 is a hip place where the hip hipsters dine. Your lack of hipness might stand out a bit if you don’t meet the hip quota. However, the food is definitely worth the stares of the retro-fitted, tattooed dames with their 50′s horned-rimmed glasses lying under their Bettie Page bangs.
1850 N Vermont Ave
Los Angeles, CA 90027-4215