A Local Evening Stroll

As the sun set today, the perfectly warm Southern California weather took a drastic dip.  A cool marine layer rolled in over the lower Los Angeles area and quickly coated the San Fernando Valley, dropping the temperature about 20 degrees.  At 60 degrees, a walk sounded delightful. 

The husband and I have resided in the same place for the last four years.  One of the first establishments we acquainted ourselves with in the neighborhood was a local British tavern known as The White Harte Pub.  Valet parking offered but not needed when we’re two blocks away.  Theming for this restaurant is skewed.   With the dimly lit patio, a rustic cottage feel in the main bar area, and a fabric covered back patio boasting over sized TVs and a shoddy dartboard, the bar lacked much of the traditional British pub style it claimed.  The menu when we had first started attending included British fair such as Bangers and Mash and a full English breakfast.  It has been a while since I have ordered food there but the items currently on the Happy Hour list offer a more Baja flavor than anything from across the pond.  Shrimp tacos, nachos, and elote (Mexican grilled corn) with pop music blasting from the speakers does not remotely give me the essence of The Fab Four or cloudy, rainy days with a big yellow teapot in my flat.  A full size replica of a red public phone box greets you at the entrance and they offered full coverage of the Royal Wedding two weeks ago.  Yet the pizzas and American baseball instead of English football on the big screens lose the UK feel.  Stereotypes aside, The White Harte has a full bar and the food they do serve is plentiful and tasty.

We just missed the evenings Happy Hour specials so we skipped the nosh.  A table in the dark corner of the plastic encased front patio is where we ordered our drinks.  The husband ordered what he usually gets, a black and tan.  I took a moment and informed the cute, blond waitress that I wanted something with coffee in it.  She inquired if I wanted alcohol or not.  Of course with this being a bar, I said bring on the booze.  She listed off a couple of cocktails and when she mentioned an espresso martini, my eyebrows perked up.  She described a very simple drink.  It was nothing of what a generic martini was, which was fine with me, because traditional martinis are foul.  My cocktail, according to the server, was vodka and espresso syrup.  Even lacking actual coffee, the drink had a chocolatey, foamy coffee flavor which hid the vodka taste.  But one drink was enough.  The vodka sneaks up on you.  It made for a sweet nightcap and the bit of booze kept me warm on the walk home.