Pot Roast -- Jar, Los Angeles, CAJar
For our final evening in Los Angeles, we have a double-header of meat. By pure geographic luck, it turns out that two of our heartiest dishes -- at two of the nicest restaurants on our list -- are within a few minutes of each other. Which means we're beginning our dinner hour with a pot roast, and ending it with a short rib.
Just don't ask us to define the difference between the two, because we have no idea.
|One Piece of Meat Begets Another|
Ginger, similar to our La Scala experience, has been concerned that both stops are going to be annoyed by our request to a) sit at the bar, and b) only order one dish. However, when we walk into Jar, and find a nearly empty restaurant with an even emptier bar, her concerns are somewhat relieved.
|We Love Few Things More Than Eating Alone|
We pull up two stools and remain the only two customers at the bar for the entirety of our meal, quite pleased, once again, by how much room there is to spare in this city.
|When We Get Back to New York, We're Going to Start Pushing People Away from Us|
"It's very nice in here," Vodka whispers, who is instantly taken by a locale that is both quiet and devoid of other customers.
"That was my fear," Ginger says. "That we'd be the weirdos ordering one pot roast at the nice place."
"It's not THAT nice," Vodka retorts, placing both her camera and cracked phone on top of the bar.
"Put that away," Ginger hisses.
"My ghetto phone?"
"The camera," she insists. "Wait until no one's watching."
|What? You've Never Seen Someone Take Pictures of Their Wine Before?|
To be fair, it's going to be difficult to ever not have any waitstaff watching us, considering they really don't have anyone else to look at, but Vodka temporarily complies with Ginger's request. And after she is properly plied with a few sips of Pinot Grigio, it seems Ginger's remaining shame flies out the window, and she obediently begins pushing the bowls of bar snacks in front of Vodka's waiting lens upon request.
|Less Afraid of Bar Snack Germs Than Usual Considering We're the Only Ones Here to Touch Them|
|Any Place That Provides Free Potato Chips Is Okay By Us|
Back to the pot roast, when we request one order of Rocco DiSpirito's Best Thing I Ever Ate CRAZY GOOD dish, the bartender looks us up and down and then asks, "Would you like a side of mashed potatoes?" Well, of course we would like a side of mashed potatoes!
|Come to Think of It, Just Bring Us the Whole Pot|
"Apparently, we look like carb eaters," Vodka whispers once the bartender is again out of earshot. Which perhaps hammers home the point that we could never really fit into LA.
|All of Those Personal Trainers Would Have a Field Day with Us|
Though neither one of us would ever choose to order a pot roast on our own accord, once confronted with this one, we have to admit that it is quite pleasing.
|Maybe Those Two Carrots Will Make Up for the Vat of Mashed Potatoes We've Just Consumed|
The meat itself is cooked to a perfect tenderness, the accompanying drippings are savory and warm, and the side of horseradish adds a perfect kick to the whole endeavor.
|We Get a Kick Out of You, Horseradish|
While the entire dish needs to be doused with a solid helping of salt, we generally have no complaints, especially about the accompanying mashed potatoes.
|NYC PTSD: We Still Huddle All of Our Dishes Together Despite the Fact That We Have an Entire Bar Top to Spare|
"This is about as good as you get for pot roast," Ginger surmises. And with that, just like Fred Flintstone himself, we shimmy off our bar stools and off to our next meat-centric meal. Which, with any luck, will come with a side of carbs.