Little Bear is a Belgian, beer-centric bar/cafe in the arts district, downtown.
I knew I had to go as soon as I heard the title.
Little Bear just sounds inviting. Like walking into a forest replete with baby bears needing you to nurse them. Well, not nurse them. Pet them, I guess, is more appropriate and less weird.
I’ve always been a sucker for packaging. I ALWAYS judge books by their covers.
I’m drawn in by catchy jingles and swirling colors and gleefully bedecked products. Even feminine wash bottles have intrigued me with their choice of fonts and avoidance of blatantly advertising what the product is really used for.
As I child, I assumed it simply made the walk along the beach more enjoyable.
As a toddler, I’d race to the television to watch the intro to the Partridge Family. Mesmorized by the colorful peacocks as they lined up on screen.
Who cared about the actual show, I just loved the credits!
Or so my mother tells me. She often lies for attention or sympathy.
Just joking, mother. And by “mother”, I mean that in a “Psycho” sense of the word.
Where were we?
While the short rib grilled cheese was great, the boar sausage was the star of the show tonight (according to Chesty Morgan). A star that clearly loves the limelight.
See how she sits there on her bed of kale. Bulbous and brazenly nude. Only covered by a gossamer thin mustard sauce.
And if you start to feel bad about the fat content, just remember the kale! You’re eating kale, which has been proven to conteract all fat consumption.
You should probably race to a blood pressure machine asap and impress your friends with your score!
FYI, kale has not made it to the middle of the country as a food product yet. Be warned. It’s still a garnish there (some chicken fried steak might be resting on it, if you’re eating fancy) and if you consume it, people will assume you’ve gone insane.
1855 Industrial St
Los Angeles, CA 90021