The entrance was fashioned to look like an oversized replica of an Airstream door - curved top, steel latch handle. The windows had horizontal glass plates gliding outward, as if they opened by crank.
Chef Fred Eric was the enfant terrible of cuisine at that moment, and his new concept was to create a restaurant-as-performance-art.
I had been worried there only might be valet, because this was Beverly Hills and some valet guy is always just waiting to pop out and park your car in places like Beverly Hills.
But on paper, I looked fancy, and it was true that I could pass among the rarified denizens of Westside L.A. - at least most of the time.
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