As I approach Food Lab's door, a little Cindy Lou Who look-alike runs up to door. She presses her face against the glass. It becomes a pinkish blob studded with two bright blue eyes. She laughs, I laugh. Her parents aren't as amused as we are.
Play time over, I enter the cafe. Food Lab is tiny and filled with the smell of baked goods. I'm hungry. I've just finished driving on the freeway in a heavy rain. I'm exhausted by the effort of being a defensive driver, as all around me acted as though we were competing in the Indy 500, with the added fillip of slick roads and poor visibility.
I look at the menu board on the wall and settle upon the Cuban sandwich. My frazzled nerves need to be soothed by something sweet. I choose a container of financiers. I splash out on a double espresso. While I'm waiting for the coffee, I notice a man standing just to the side of the servers, behind the counter.
When I hear him say something about speck and eggs, my curiosity is aroused. I mention the dish and ask him about the concept of the place.
"We're Austrian -- so it's Austrian/German inspired American food."
"Did I make a mistake with the Cuban sandwich?" There's a definite hint of panic in my voice, of someone who's famished and worries that she has ordered wrong.
"No, it's delicious," says the woman who is now standing next to me. She has a rich throaty voice. She speaks with the voice of authority.
"We make what we like," the man says. "My mom is the chef. We're very picky." I think this lady must be the chef. I learn that the graham crackers are homemade, as are the s'mores. Well, I can't try everything in one go.
I sit at a table near the window looking onto the outdoor seating and parking lot in the back. I'm next to a gleaming metal dispenser marked "citrus, mint and cucumber water." I pour some water and look around me as I prepare my espresso.The vibe is super modern yet warm. I'm not exactly sure how this effect is achieved. The counter is a stone gray, the floor is also dark. So maybe it's the warm white tile behind the counter or the light fixtures above the kitchen space that look old school. Or maybe it's that the chairs are brown metal and the tables inside are topped with weathered wood. Sunflowers in white porcelain jugs are on all the tables.
The financiers look like bowler hats. I bite into one. Wow. It's super moist and tastes a bit like a madeleine. Sweet but not too sweet. Perfect with my coffee.
My sandwich arrives on a wooden board covered with a sheet of brown paper. Pickles and a green olive are served on the side in a plastic cup.
Now I have to switch gears. I don't like to drink espresso with a meal. I ask the server to bring me a saucer to cover my cup, which she does without a moment's hesitation. Then I start to work on the sandwich. Both the meat and the bread are fresh and of high quality. There is just the right amount of pickles and gruyere cheese. The bite from yellow mustard is unexpected but tasty. The chef was right, it is delicious.
I like that Food Lab's patrons don't look like they all bought clothes from the same Gap catalog. And they are surprisingly friendly. A tall woman with the cheekbones of a model asks me what I'm having because it looks good. We smile at each other.
An elderly man enters from Santa Monica, laden with 99¢ Only Store bags. He wears a warm jacket and a knitted cap. His mouth is sunken. He announces loudly that he would like coffee. Then he walks towards the back of the cafe. He asks me how I am. I reply and wonder whether he is a little nutty. He walks back to the counter.
"For here or to go?" the server asks.
"I want regular coffee," he says.
"Do you want it here or to go?" she says, patiently.
He speaks loudly again. "I want it here. I've been walking a lot." I realize that he doesn't hear well.
"Milk or cream?"
"Regular coffee."
"Would you like milk or cream?" The server is still gentle.
"Oh. Milk."
The server puts it all on a silver tray. "Where do you want to sit?"
"All for me?!" he exclaims. His delight is palpable, probably because his regular coffee is wonderfully presented. He indicates that he'd like to sit at a table in the front, on Santa Monica Boulevard. He pours the milk from the glass beaker into the pale blue cup. He takes off his cap. He relaxes.
The music here is eclectic, which is just the way I like it. A piano virtuoso piece (maybe Liszt?), for example, is followed by a song by the Brazilian Girls.
There is no wi-fi, however. Naturally I had to follow up. The owner said, "We don't care about people staying all day, but we want people to talk to people, not ..." and here he mimes someone hunched over a computer.
Why would I recommend a place with no wi-fi to a Mobile Knowledge Worker? Because I assume that you are as stimulated by sights, sounds and good food as I am. You like being in the mix with a diverse group of people.
You can always use your smart phone. But the truth is that even Mobile Knowledge Workers can stand to be unplugged. I read in the Wall Street Journal that writing by hand helps your brain. Click here to read that article. I read a book and wrote (with a pen, no less) during my Food Lab visit. It was a nice change of pace.
Anyway, I love a family-owned place with a point of view.
Free parking (accessible from Gardner). Outdoor seating.
What a beautiful review. Like a word-painting. I wanna meet that old man, and talk to the Austrians! Thanks, Darcine...
Posted by: Andrea | February 17, 2011 at 05:05 PM
Andrea, I'm so sorry that your comment was momentarily waylaid in the ether. But today it made it made its way to me.
Thanks so much for reading and thanks for the lovely comments. Check out today's post -- I had to visit the fabulous Food Lab again!
Posted by: Darcine Thomas | March 24, 2011 at 10:55 PM