There’s chicken liver pâté, ready to spread on crusty crostini. But then, that loaf goes awfully well with the classic steak tartare, a dish of well-chopped raw beef that tends to be one of those culinary lines in the sand. It’s a fine cocktail to sip on while chewing the crusty warmed baguette, a small bread loaf so tasty it seems a pity to spread butter on it. Black Coffee Liqueur, Baileys and Espresso. If you’re feeling a tad sleepy, there’s a Martini Café as well, of Barr Hill Vodka, Mr. (The Dirty Lebanese is “dirty” for the same reason, only with La Bay Gin and feta stuffed olives.) There are cocktails as well, with names like The Dirty French - which is not a slur, but a reference to the olive brine mixed with the Grey Goose Vodka. There is, indeed, a Sancerre from Dom Reverdy Ducroux, an almost obscenely refreshing white as the sunset over the Strand. The front is wide open, allowing wannabe Pierres to happily sip on a rosy-pink Coteaux d’Aix-en-Provence … or, more locally, the fine Daou Rosé of Grenache from Paso Robles. Manhattan Beach is a French colony come summer.Īnd, Fête: A Bistro by Slay is the perfect restaurant for a Gallic celebration of the sun. I’m surprised not to catch sight of more Peugeots. I half expect Starbucks to be selling Sancerre and Vouvray. Teens gabble happily in an incomprehensible tongue that could just as well be a French dialect as some variant of Beach City English. There’s a lazy haze of sunny cheer in the air, along with legions of well-toned bodies drifting by in barely adequate beachwear. On a warm summer’s day by the shore, it’s not hard to imagine that Manhattan Beach is on the French Riviera.
0 kommentar(er)
