The Original Fish Company, Los
Alamitos, Southern California
~ Photo, courtesy of myoc.com
We woke up to
watered-down pea soup (foggy, but not dense) conditions
outside. Still, a novelty in these parts. I am enjoying its rare
appearance, but I admit, I am grateful that it is a once-in-a-while occurrence.
I like light.
Bright, sunshiny days lift me. Darkness and dankness, ahh, no
Yesterday I spent time
sunning myself as I read a book. I'm aware that if I do not
take the time to catch some of its winter rays in the winter,
although at an oblique slant with the sun sinking lower on the
horizon, my spirits tend to sink with it.
A good offense is better than after-the-fact defense.
While I am hardly a
victim to wintertime blues or blahs, I do not have the vim, vigor
and joy of summertime, tending instead to be more sedentary and
worse, with cravings for carbos. I imagine if I lived in New
England, or the Pacific Northwest, or England, with its overcast sky
above, the blustery winds and trees barren of leaves, my inner
fires would be barely burning and I'd weigh far more than I'd like.
Thank goodness, I am
here in Southern California, where a tropical plumeria like me can
survive. I shall count this as a gigantic blessing.
When the sun breaks
through, I will take a walk with DH and the dog-kids... and seek out
a huge green salad.
I am back.
Since this morning, I
have learned where the courthouse is, as we took a dry run to it,
just in case I am called to serve on the jury this week.
On the way back, I had a
hankering for a green salad that was not to be denied. A good
one. Nothing run of the mill. A really good one. In
these parts, there is only one place for that, and we headed
straight down to
Original Fish Company in Los Alamitos
11061 Los Alamitos Blvd
Los Alamitos, CA 90720
Phone 714-960-2229 Fax 562-431-9544
There's always a line
outside this restaurant-fish market. Any season. Any day. Any
time. For the last 18 years. And yes, on today's Sunday
afternoon, at 1:45 pm, there was a line. But the maitre d'
said it would be 15 minutes, and with the sun shining, having burnt
away the morning's marine fog, the patio with its waterfall
fountain, English garden and granite-topped tables with spacious
wrought iron chairs beckoned invitingly.
We basked in the soft
sunlight. It was really quite lovely to be
unhurried. The wait is always worth it. We admired the
impeccable, blue sky, with nary a single cloud.
We were called in at
2pm, and lead to our favorite corner booth in the furthest corner of
the restaurant. Quiet and intimate. We are not part of
the "See and Be Seen" crowd. The waiter, Mark,
congenial, welcoming, attentive and skilled, took my order, Crab
Louie, and DH's, The Seafood Sampler.
I wish I had not left my
camera at home, as the Crab Louie that arrived was a visual
feast. Next time, I have a hankering, I'll be sure to take a
picture of it for you. In the meantime, visualize a huge
ceramic bowl shaped like a clam shell, lined with dark green butter
lettuce, filled with assorted greens with red cabbage accents,
rimmed with egg slices, green onion stalks, tomato wedges, baby
corn, backed with fan-cut avocado slices and slices of cucumber and
carrots, and topped with a generous plop of fresh Dungeness
As I oohed and ahhed
over each bite full of tasty morsels, DH thoroughly enjoyed his fish
filet and skewered large shrimp and fifty-cent-sized scallops, laced
with bacon slices and accented with red and green
Owned by Mr. Harold
Rothman and his wife, Wendi (Mr. Rothman's parents once owned the
Katella Deli across the way), this restaurant is an unqualified
success, a big favorite of us locals. Their quality is consistently
excellent, and in spite of the crowds, the service is ALWAYS
unharried and top-notch. Today was no exception, and we especially
appreciated Mark's attentiveness and accommodating service.
Spirits lifted and
tummies happy, we returned home to our dogkids and we all took a
walk in the sun around the neighborhood and park.
A perfect Sunday in the
"Life is a Gift."
only gift is a portion of thyself..."
Ralph Waldo Emerson
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