The Hudson has been at the center of many a West Hollywood scene. So when they shuttered over the new year for 3 weeks to renovate their interior, they had in mind to update the feel of the place – without doing so much as to disrupt the reasons their patrons have become regulars. What you’ll feel immediately when you walk in is the added height – 8 feet, to be exact – and a now-exposed, beautiful A-frame ceiling.
Something special is coming to 3rd Street in Mid-City West, and it’s simplethings sandwich and pie shop. Third street is one of Mid-City West’s main treasures, and the store is a nice departure from the hustle and bustle of Joan’s on Third and the scene-y brunch hullabaloo of Toast.
At simplethings, you’ll get to choose pies from three different sizes (3″, 5″ & 9″) in delicious varieties like Pumpkin, Key Lime, Banofee (banana + toffee = deliciousness), Bourbon Pecan, Orange Creamsicle, Chocolate Peanut Butter and Blueberry. Feelin’ like whoopie? They got plenty of varieties of whoopie pie for your hollerin’.
Or maybe you were feeling like a meal, first. They have specialty sandwiches like the Prime Rib sandwich, with their prime rib made in-house, and a Veggie Sandwich that tastes as hearty as a meat party. They also serve breakfast on the weekends until 2 PM and have fresh salads available all day.
But my favorite bite of the media preview had to be the Thanksgiving Sandwich, made with cranberry chutney and jalapeno stuffing. They also use chunks instead of slices of the bird, which helps keep the turkey meat tender. It’s seasonal, comprehensive and everything I could want since I’ll be on the plane on Thanksgiving Day. I’m celebrating early!
And if you’re craving pies and sandwiches now, today’s your lucky day since simplethings just opened at 11 AM. Call in your order or stop by – its simple decor is a charming set-up for the drop-in.
It was daylight. Early morning. There was an explosion.Â I came to andÂ I found myself suspended sideways, onto my right side. I stared at my passenger door tweeter a few feet below me. It seemed really far, then. It’s a really nice brushed aluminum piece surrounding a chrome handle.
I heard voices. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I’m okay,” I said. I said it in a really sour tone, trying desperately to be appreciative and failing. My right palm and left knuckles were bloody and so was my shirt. My head throbbed. The chemicals from the airbags deploying were … unpleasant. Whatever.
After anything big happens to me – yes, even with an explosion – I always think, “Whatever.” Next.
There was confirmation thereafterÂ that I could get out – and this came with the realization that I would have to unfasten the device thatÂ had saved me in the first place. I guarantee that before this past weekend, I’ve never had to watch where I might pivot 90 degrees and fall after unbuckling myself from my driver’s seat.
Saturday morning, I unclicked my seat beltÂ beforeÂ landing in the space where my passenger window used to be. I could feel the glass bits crunch under the clink of my black motorcycle boots. I could hear them against the ground, against my teeth – I could taste them in my mouth.
I stood up and looked around. Put my forearms on my ragtop sill and saw aboutÂ 8Â Midcity West neighborsÂ on the spot – after all,Â I had woken them up. And I had hit one of their parked cars.