Cafe Verona, where I had lunch Saturday with two of the FAB Five on La Brea Avenue in Los Angeles, was Italian only in attitude and cooking. The waitress was quite pleasant in showing us to our courtyard table. Halfway through the meal, however, she turned into a not-so-fair lady. I couldn't explain the mood swing. Maybe I shouldn't have asked for additional bread to sop up the delicious puddle of sweet balsamic vinegar and peppery olive oil. Perhaps I was too aggressive in reminding her to bring the hot sauce for Peter, whose hand in the photo demonstrated the proper way to dip the chewy bread in oil and vinegar. The waitress's scowling didn't detract from my enjoying the parmesan polenta, two eggs cooked over medium and rectangular toast. In trying to explain polenta to my lunchmates, I searched for a metaphor from my Southern childhood. Polenta, I said, was essentially Italian grits. Made of pulverized cornmeal, the polenta is cooked with butter and water until it is creamy. Cheese transforms polenta from a bland carbohydrate into comfort food that smothers the tongue in goodness. I prefer cheddar cheese with Southern grits, but I think parmesan cheese is the ideal flavoring for polenta. All in all, the meal was a nice coda to the fun band practice that the FAB Three had earlier that day. Despite her funky attitude, the waitress was so efficient that she cleared the table before I could take the after-lunch picture.
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