THE ENABLER
Last weekend in Costa Mesa, The Enabler ran across a cab driver who needed to get a few things off his chest.
“I’ve gotten three DUIs,” he said. “After the third one I spent 177 days in the San Bernardino County Jail. When they let me out I drove straight to Las Vegas and lost $30,000.” He then asked about the Enabler’s plans for the night, which included La Cave, a labyrinthine hovel/steakhouse buried beneath a monstrous Blockbuster Video. “I love that place,” he replied. “I ate there last week.”
The Enabler will never meet a better source for bar advice. La Cave’s winding, windowless chambers and crisp, dry martinis seemed the perfect accouterment for killing a man with a Tommy gun. Similarly, La Cave’s menu is nothing but a rolling cart of raw meat and fish on ice. A small flashlight shines a sallow ray of light onto bloody wedges of filet mignon. The Enabler had the temerity to ask the waitress if La Cave served pasta. “Oh, heavens, no,” she replied.
The waiters soon removed the white tablecloths and a low-rent house band struck up a Radiohead cover. Costa Mesa’s distinctly Guidosexual bar crowd rolled in, and the Enabler wondered when Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believing” would cue up before its blackout.
1695 Irvine Ave., Costa Mesa. (949) 646-7944.