locals

Last week I asked Dave if he wanted to meet up with my parents on Saturday to go to my mom's, cousin's, son's wedding open house...confused yet?  (we figured out later that he is officially my full second cousin, but would have been too easy to say)

So on Saturday we hopped in the car and drove down the 405 to Mulholland Drive, got lost once (thanks a lot Google Maps...) and finally found my cousin's house.  They live on a lovely cliff side with a view to kill for and it was such a lovely California evening to spend eating raspberries and bundt cake with the newlyweds.

Gorgeous right? 

After leaving the open house it was Dave's and my job to find a local spot for dinner.  We Yelped and found a few promising spots, but Dave thought he may have found the winner in a gastropub off Ventura Blvd called The Local Peasant.

Turns out the place was so local they don't really even have a sign on the front...so yes we walked up and down the street several times totally lost and almost gave up, but we finally found it, and we were so glad be did.  

This was the only advertisement of its existence...I don't feel too bad about missing it (and then getting mixed up with addresses, but that's another issue all together)

Dave had high expectations after introducing my dad to his new favorite LA restaurant, so it's not like there was any pressure or anything.  However, after deviled egg appetizers and seeing an heirloom tomato salad on the menu they were pretty much sold.  Oh, and pear, blueberry, raspberry crumble for dessert?  We weren't complaining.

Too bad we don't like spending time with these guys at all...

It was a fun local find and on a Saturday night around 6:30, the said locals started pouring in.  Always a good sign.

Perhaps we'll have to come back soon!
Adios! We're goin' back to the suburbs (where there's parking...)