Baby, I think we associate with a very unstable group.

Last night was hilarious! I found a restaurant up here immediately after booking the job. It had received a glowing review in the LA Times food section so, fuck it, why not try it out? Right? Right. Genius move. Cascina Spinasse is one of those crazy finds that leave you feeling like maybe there is such a thing as God and maybe it likes me. Maybe it really likes me! The food was phenomenal! The space is small and cozy and the gaffer and I sat at the marble bar and proceeded to eat like Kings. The kitchen is open and mellow and staffed by several full-on culinary geniuses. I started off with a gin and tonic so good it made me want to slap myself. Aviation Gin, if you can find it, is worth it no matter what they're trying to charge you. Hook it up, for reals. We were given little toast points, two with rabbit liver pate and two with fontina and anchovy and while I normally don't really like anchovy these were so mouthwateringly good I was tempted to ask for another round. I ordered a glass of 2006 Gavi and was pleasantly surprised at its balance of fruitiness and crispness. Goddamn, a good glass of wine is such a wonderful thing and it went really well with the salami and roasted leeks I inhaled. The gaffer ordered a heirloom chicory salad with pheasant reggiano and aged balsamic vinegar and it was beyond good. Both of our starters were lick the plate good. Wine finished and onto a glass of 2007 Arneis that blew me away. Totally different taste than the Gavi of course, and equally well balanced and perfectly matched to the reason I was here: pasta! Wonderful, divine, beautiful handmade fresh pastas! The chef/owner, Justin Neidermeyer, trained in Italy for a year before embarking on becoming an amazing pasta chef. I don't know when he opened Spinasse but it is one of the best Italian joints I've ever been in as it's authentic. Light touches on everything, no heavy sauces and bullshit. It's pure. I ordered the ravioli stuffed with spinach and served up with sage butter and toasted pine nuts. The gaffer got the maltagliati with chickpeas and thick chunks of pancheta. We ate like Kings, I tell ya! At this point I was feeling well stuffed and happy and decided to get dessert: a small chocolate terrine that absolutely killed. Soft, moist, full of chocolate heaven. 

Up to this point things were going great. Then this happened:

Yes, that's right, I went and ruined a perfectly good meal by drinking Pastis. It's not that the Pastis was bad or didn't go with the meal. It's more that drinking Pastis leads a man to make bad decisions, which we wholeheartedly proceeded to do. Witness the following photos and know this: we walked everywhere we went, covering some four miles, and we ended the night drinking with the bartenders at a place called The Funhouse. If you have any questions about the following photos please feel free to not ask me and simply make up your own answers.

Peace out, bitches!