After a short while, it was our turn: “Peters at six?” I asked about eating outside, and to my delight, there was a patio out back where a fig tree grew and spilled out into the parking lot. It was lush, cozy, and not too loud, but you could still hear the music and the kitchen. The air was cooling down from a ninety-degree day in O’side, just a half mile from the ocean.

Our server, and in fact everyone who worked there, was a delight. They were having fun, and they seemed proud of what the restaurant and menu stood for. The ethos here is zero waste, with local fish and local greens. A sister restaurant, The Plot, turned its own parking lot into a working nonprofit garden, doing food education around the county. Many of the vegetables and herbs on my plate last night came from their garden, or other local suppliers. Our server pointed out the African blue basil growing right behind our table, tucked in with the ferns.

To start, we had the kanpachi sashimi: delicate, glistening slices plated beside spiralized beets and lemon, all resting on a lovely green arugula chimichurri. That buttery fish didn’t stand a chance. And a cold Pure Project Pure West IPA was the logical choice to wash it down.

Next up: one of the Wrench Rolls, the Del Mar. Shrimp tempura and krab, crowned with deep burgundy tuna, creamy avocado, and sliced jalapeño. Each flavor was distinct and clean. I know some may frown, but I have a habit of dunking my rolls in a soy-wasabi blend for that radishy burn that wakes up my senses. Fantastic, no matter how you eat it.

Finally, I had to have one of the plant-based Rodent Rolls. I’m a sucker for sweet potato, so I got the Patrick the Great. It was delicious, topped with avocado, pickled cabbage, and citrus soy. Impossible not to finish. I ended up needing another IPA.

“Should we get one more?” I nearly ordered the Hawaiian Wrench Roll on top of it all. Krab, avocado, spicy tuna, ponzu, scallion. But I was at a six, maybe a seven, on the fullness scale. Satisfied, not stuffed. A few more bites and I’d be in trouble. Something to look forward to next time, though.

Walking out, a new, even bigger crowd waited for seating. We’d gotten there just in time.

From there, it was a short walk to the beach, belly full of sushi, and a sunset waiting.

(All photos are my own.)

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It’s this little spot off Bristol, wedged right where Newport Beach and Irvine can’t quite decide who gets custody. Every time I’m back visiting family, I make a reservation (though you can always walk in). Lunch, dinner, dessert, doesn’t matter. I must go.

French comfort food. It’s ridiculously good.

Bouillon feels like the kind of place you want to go to any time of day, any time of year. Crimson banquettes, woven rattan chairs, a glossy subway-tiled bar… a little noisy, friends-and-family style. It’s also a place you can walk into with a notebook and pencil, sit in a corner with a bottle of wine you plan to take home after a glass or two, and eat that soft, supple, fluffy French baguette fresh out of the oven with their magic candy-wrapped butter. Just sip and journal, enjoying the atmosphere.

I’ll always go back. I’ll always order the Tartare de Saumon. Did I mention the staff? The staff is just wonderful. Many of them speak French and English, and their accents are a delight. I’ve never been to France, but chatting with them makes me feel a little like I have. The menu changes a little bit on occasion, just enough to keep you guessing. You’ll finish the bread basket, trust me.

And if you can, order the profiteroles with a cappuccino after your main course. ❤️🇫🇷

(All photos are my own.)

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