No, not the Miley Cyrus song, though I do like that song. Malibu! The mythical, wealthy California beach. And to be sure, there is A LOT of money there. And there is beach. And, this past Saturday, there was brunch to be had.
It was over the freeways and hills for us to get there, about an hour each way. For all that people think everything in LA is near the beach, it's not. We're not. And even a short distance as the crow flies can mean a long drive depending on the route and time of day. We were meeting Van's friend Nicole, and we arrived at Geoffrey's a little early (always give yourself extra time in LA to get places - you can sit at the bar or otherwise kill time when you get there), so I ordered a non-alcoholic cocktail
that was a little too intense for me to finish (thin it down with more soda water, and it might have been fine, though). Eventually, we were seated in the back of the open air dining space,
which suited us fine both for avoiding sun exposure and for being a better environment for Conrad to hear things. It was a lovely day, at one point several pelicans flew by in a line one behind the other. Conrad and I shared oysters,
and then I had a crab cake Benedict that was perfectly serviceable.
Ah, Malibu: pay for the location and view, not for the food.
Nicole left at the end of the meal, but we took a short walk down the steps and between houses to the beach. There we walked briefly in the sand, got some photos,
and then headed on back to the foothills for the rest of the day. We finished Saturday with some drinks (mine was the Don't Give Up the Ship)
and some steelhead with a corn puree that I cooked up.
A little RPDR All Stars, and then it was time for bed.
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