Parties of any sort are a luxury these days, thanks to the demands of our new baby, MMX's weekly print issue. But I did manage to steal away for BLT Steak's opening shindig, and the affair was suitably swanky, befitting not only its slick Sunset Plaza-adjacent location but the reputation of Chef Laurent Tourondel who's created a formidable network of BLTs (Bistro Laurent Tourondel) in New York before making his way to conquer the west.

I got my fill of culinary stargazing: Kazuto Matsusaka and Vicki Fan of Beacon and The Point; Suzanne Goin and David Lentz of The Hungry Cat; Sang Yoon of Father Office and proto-Father's Office II. Alain Giraud waited patiently with the rest of the masses in the charcuterie and cheese line. Nancy Silverton came by to say hello and walked away before I could snap a picture. This is what I managed. I promise the faceless dude with the distinguished silver hair is not Jean Valjean but chef Giraud.

It was confirmed that the restaurant just passed its final inspection that day, which means that another not-another steakhouse will open as early as next week. (No promises, this is L.A. after all.) But if the evening's sampling is any indication, I'm willing to believe in BLT Steak's ability to outdistance the latest horde of trendy meat-loving restaurants. The couple hors d'oeuvres that I managed to grab—anything hot from the kitchen was few and far between—were really delicious. A raw bar of oysters, shrimp and crab legs (some folks had lobster tail, but something tells me they're extra special people) was excellent and featured a more-excellent cocktail sauce.

Dudes are especially gonna love this place. 

A sizeable flat-screen above the bar proclaimed its allegiance—it was tuned to the Lakers game, which will undoubtedly be the case until the season ends. An even bigger TV dominated the private room which housed the wine cellar. It (the TV, not the wine) too was dedicated to the Lakers.

At the very least, the game (more the fact that it was broadcasted in the middle of a party than the actual play-by-play) kept me and my friend Lisa occupied as we stood in the interminable line for cold cuts and cheese. Luckily, we squeaked the last pieces of charcuterie

Then proceeded to make ourselves giddy-sick over the astonishingly good desserts. This particular beauty nearly bowled me over with its unexpected peanut-butteriness.

But just as we were giggling over our good fortune, a crash of glass behind us led to this:

And Lisa's backside was soaked with champagne. *Sigh* Guess it isn't a party these days until someone gets splashed with something. At least it wasn't Mexican food.

Sorry Lisa, BLT Steak's incredibly apologetic lawyer—who looked like a kinder, gentler James Spader—promised to make it up to you.

—Jiyeon Yoo

I live by this simple rule: if a place doesn’t have food, I’m probably not going to show up. Unless I really, really love you. So when Metromix’s photographer-extraordinaire Shane Redsar e-vited me to his birthday party at Akbar, my devotion to him outweighed my need to eat.

The fabulous birthday boy gives an arch look.

While I haven’t seen the inside of many bars or clubs, I have been to Akbar for craft night—which was a lovely experience; I unironically made a picture frame out of macaroni. But on this particular Friday night, the singles crowd was hot and heavy, and believe me, no one was interested in handling a glue gun.

Suffice it to say that at one point in the night, I felt a splash across my legs as I had decided to wear my NSFW miniskirt and boots. No biggie. People slosh their drinks around all the time. You just wipe yourself off and move on, right? This is where the details get sordid. I began to wonder why that dude would have salsa in his glass. Did Akbar start serving Mexican food? I speculated as I swiveled around to flag down a server hoping to get a basket of chips too.

Oh, no…nuh-uh. Yes, my brain made that final unfortunate leap over the pit of denial and I knew—I got barfed on. By someone who had distinctly eaten Mexican food.

As I am nothing if not a committed journalist and researcher, I couldn't help but ponder: What might be the originating source? Possibly Best Fish Taco in Ensenada since it was right up Hillhurst? Nope, I was sure cheese was involved. El Conquistador? Maybe too far down Sunset.

The CSI in me needed to take a more scientific approach. Luckily, Metromix’s snazzy software can map out nearby restaurants within a quarter mile of the crime scene—

—three of which serve the right combination of salsa-laden food and strong drink that might make someone yak it up down the street. Malo, El Cid, El Chavo: I probably won’t be visiting you anytime soon. You wouldn’t want to deal with a bout of post-traumatic stress syndrome.

—Jiyeon Yoo