Fire At The French Market Café - Merde!

A lot of places I love have closed in Venice while I've been away, and a little part of me is crushed every time. It's all sad, but nothing has hit me as hard as hearing that my beloved French Market Café has had a fire early yesterday morning, and is now closed indefinitely. I could (did) just cry.

When I'm in Venice, I go to the French every day. It is my coffee spot, my place to visit with my friends that both work and frequent there, and the place you can most regularly find me other than the beach. This is a hard one to swallow.

Back in the days when I didn't call my Mom every day (you live and learn that these things are necessary), she would even call the French to make sure I had been there and all was ok with me. If I had a work meeting, I would always suggest the French first. I was so thrilled when they announced last year that they would be opening for evenings and serving dishes from the old Lily's menu - another now gone favorite. It was tough to get people to that end of Abbot Kinney at night, but they were doing it. Now what?!

It was always a delight to celebrate Bastille Day at the French, with Can Can girls dancing and champagne flowing in the sunshine on the patio. Who can forget the day that France won the World Cup in 2018, and all the French ex-pats in Los Angeles descended on the packed French Market, driving cars around with flags waving out the windows. A total blast, and one of the most happy and fun memories ever had at our beloved Frenchie

I haven't been able to reach Agnes (Martinez, the owner and a dear friend) yet to know what happened exactly, but it just kills me that I'm not there ... and that it's now very up in the air if I will ever again get my favorite Mocha in town there again. This global pandemic has forced us all to handle a LOT of loss for sure, but some things really do hurt more than others, and this is one of them for me. MERDE!

Je t'aime, French Market, Agnes, Jenny, and all of my friends who work there, who go there, and who love it as much as I do. Hoping so much for the best outcome, that we may all gather there in the sun again one day soon.

A fundraiser has been set up by Agnes' friend, Yon Idiart, to help the French get through this extra hard time. You may donate HERE! Merci! 

Vive La French Market!!!

The Venice Tourist Trap

It's always so nice to come back to Venice after being away anywhere ... the familiar sights and sounds, the community of wonderful, generally like-minded people here in our little bubble, the possibility of absolutely anything at all happening ... I love it. And so do a lot of visitors to our little beach town, and who can blame them? But ... I was coming back from my first beach walk of the year, and I was waiting at a stoplight next to a bunch of people on a bike sightseeing tour. The tour guide had on a Madonna-like headset microphone, and was broadcasting his little tour tidbits (that anyone could read on any brochure about Venice) over a little amplifier that must have really pleased the Canal residents whose window they were right outside of. The guy was telling them how he was about to lead them to the shopping street called Abbot Kinney, named after the founder of Venice. Deep, insightful stuff. Why anyone needs a tour guide to check out a shopping street is beyond me, but there they all were, in their dorky helmets, single file riding up Venice Boulevard all nervously (I guess I should just be happy it wasn't a Segway tour. Ugh). It took everything I had to not kidnap them all and take them to some REAL Venice spots, with REAL Venice people, with actual REAL stories behind them that are actually interesting.

I kept catching up to them at the next light, and each time resisted the urge to school the guy in front of his Millenial-looking charges. But I'm trying to be a good Ambassador. We parted ways as I headed off for the French Market for a coffee (where you will still see REAL Venice residents), and was immediately met by this Jules Muck art car ... dubbed "Tourist Trap". I believe I actually laughed out loud at the timing.

Look, I know we're a tourist trap here in Venice, and I may have even contributed to it being so by telling all of our great stories that make people want to visit (Sorry, not sorry). It would just be cool if the people (Gentrifiers) making money off of our beloved town (and there are many) would first be cool, for sure be accurate, definitely not annoying, and absolutely give back to the community in some way. We know Venice is the second biggest tourist attraction in Southern California after Disneyland, so why does the City of Los Angeles not repay the favor with merely a FRACTION of what they make off of us, and put it back here (E.g. - Clean beach bathrooms. Paying Jesse Martinez for his daily skatepark cleaning. A ton of other things ...). I guess I'm saying if we're going to be such a tourist trap, let's be a City of our own, and rule it ourselves. And I KNOW I'm saying - and will continue to say throughout this incoming Administration - POWER TO THE PEOPLE. (Including Tourists).

Rest In Peace, Dear Patrice.

I can't begin to wrap my head around today. I awoke to a small earthquake. Never great. I walked along the beach and watched the grey clouds roll in and take over. Then I went to my beloved French Market Cafe to get my coffee, where I found it to be closed, with a sign saying "Closed for Emergency" scribbled on a piece of paper and taped to the door.

I kept walking then to head over to Abbot Kinney as I still needed coffee. Badly. Walking toward me was Christophe, our favorite French Market waiter. As I smiled and wished him a Happy New Year, I could immediately tell something was wrong. I asked and he could barely speak, until he managed to get out, "Patrice is dead."

Patrice Martinez, the gregarious and kind owner of the French Market Cafe, who has brightened my day for years and years.


I still have chills. I can't bear to imagine how Patrice's wife, Agnes, is feeling. Theirs was a true and obvious love, full of fun and adventure. Adventure is what Patrice was up to in Chile on a motorcycle trip with his best friend. There was a fatal accident on the bike, when Patrice was hit by an oncoming car. The only comfort you can think of is that he was doing what he loved with his best friend.

I will remember him always exactly as he is pictured above, which is how he looked most of the time. Always a kind word, always a little teasing, always the ultimate host of the delightful neighborhood oasis that he and Agnes created together.

My favorite thing Patrice ever said to me was one day when I met a friend for coffee in the morning at The French (as we call it) ... which became lunch ... which became one, two, then three bottles of daytime champagne with other regulars on the patio. I went inside to get something and bumped into Patrice and said, "Patrice, my morning coffee has become three bottles of champagne!" To which he replied, "C'est bon, that is very french!" We laughed together ... and I stayed until it was dark out.

Please keep Agnes and all the French Market family in your thoughts and kindnesses. And man ... remember to LOVE your life every moment that you have it. It can be gone oh, so quickly.

Rest In Peace, Patrice. You will be forever missed.



UPDATE:

*There will be a viewing for Patrice this Friday, the 21st.
4-7 pm
Gates Kingsley Murphy Funeral Home
1925 Arizona Ave. Santa Monica

French New Wave Venice

There are many times in life - especially in Venice - where you go, "This is like a movie", or "I couldn't even make this up". The place is full of characters, that as a writer, you think, "No one would ever believe this person was real, if they weren't". I'm constantly writing down little moments in my notebook, to use in a script or book later on, as inspiration is constantly everywhere.


A good example of this happened the other day. I was on my way home from my morning walk at the beach when I saw my Creepy Landlord pull up in front of my place. If you know me at all, you probably know about this guy. The problems - CREEPY problems - with this person go way back, and our relations lately have devolved in a big way. I recently let him have it in a letter, and seeing him pull up in front was the first I'd seen of him since his receiving it, and frankly, I was not in the mood to deal.

So I went on over to the French Market to get my coffee, and kill some time, hopefully long enough to miss The Creep. I told my friend and waiter extraordinaire, Christopher, that I was sorry I was going to take up a table with just coffee, but I was hiding out from my Creepy Landlord, blahblahblah. I'm usually in and out of there in a hurry, so it's out of the ordinary for me to linger. It wasn't super busy at that moment, so we had more time to chat than normal, and I shared just some of the Creepiness with my French pals.

After a bit, I said my goodbyes to Carole and Christopher, and biked back towards my house. I went an odd way, so I could sneak up and see my place without being seen. When I turned down an alley, I heard the puttering of an engine behind me, but I had my hood up and shades on, so I didn't have any peripheral view, and didn't feel like glancing back and having to deal with something else. Another weird turn by me, another weird turn by the puttering engine. I kept going until I reached the corner where I could see my house. The coast was clear. One second later, a scooter pulled up alongside me, the helmet came off, and there was Christopher, on the delivery scooter!


"I had to make sure zat you were alright", he said in his super thick French accent. He'd hopped on the scooter and followed me as soon as I'd left, going above and beyond the call of waiter, into true friend territory. (And he didn't want any credit or his picture taken, so I had to snap this in passing):


That's what a Community is all about, man. Caring, taking a moment of your own time to make sure someone else is ok, and doing it just because you're a good person, not because you expect anything in return. I treasure that about the relationships I've formed over the years here in Venice. They are legit, and people really do care.

So you see ... cool things don't just happen in the movies, they happen right here, every single day.

Vive La French!!!

If you know me or have visited me, you've either heard of or been to The French Market Cafe on Abbot Kinney Boulevard in Venice (South of Venice Blvd.). That's because I go there every morning and get what I feel is the very best coffee in town. I love it. I miss it when I'm away. They don't even have to ask me what I want ... and sometimes it's even ready for me when I'm still standing in line to order it. We are tight.
A lovely mademoiselle called Agnes came over from France in 1999, and soon thereafter took over The French Market Cafe from a French couple with her business partner, Lionel. They made some improvements, but kept the general idea ... delicious French food (get Le Cheval for brunch - open face sunny egg, bacon, swiss on baguette - delicieux), along with a store selling all the foods, magazines, wines, and other French things for French expatriates, and Americans alike. Then she met a dashing customer called Patrice ... they fell in love, married and bought out Lionel. Today Agnes and Patrice Martinez run the place together, and it's as though you've entered their own backyard. People they know come in all day, kiss both cheeks, and stay to have a proper European-length meal out on the sunny patio, as kids and dogs play - and grow up - over the years.
I started going there years ago because it was the closest place to get coffee to my house. I continued going there because it is so dang good. I've written about it in my journal good. It took a while (about a decade) to get super in with the owners and workers there, but now I love them all like ma own famille. Carole knows pretty much every detail of my life from seeing me every morning, and has become a dear, protective and supportive amie. Like we've brought each other souvenirs from our travels friends. Mikey offers a smile and sweet comment every day, and makes the coffee just how I like it (though Carole really knows best). Tobias always has something philosophical to say. Genevieve works harder than anyone I've ever seen, and I've made her smile twice this year already! Agnes & Patrice are handsome and welcoming all day long. I bring them cookies at Christmas, they gave me a swell bottle of wine. It's just the kind of place you hope to have in your life ... your morning "Cheers" bar.
Speaking of Cheers, or Salut, rather ... The French Market Cafe FINALLY got their wine and beer license this year!!! After years of bureaucracy and hassles by the City Officials ... you can now buy one of the gorgeous bottles of wine or champagne from the cute cellar inside, and pop it open to enjoy as the afternoon light turns everything gold. It is a terribly civilized way to while away a twilight, that is for sure.
The French Market Cafe nestles you in at 2321 Abbot Kinney Blvd, starting at 7 a.m. They usually wrap up their day by 5, except for Thursday-Saturday is now 10.

J'adore, French Market! See you in the morning!



*Oh, and just so you know. You get in line clockwise around the center of the store, order from the counter (or order ahead online - see above link), pay, get a number and they'll bring you the food outside if it's nice out (usually is) and you found a table, or inside in the little dining room. (I say this because it seems hard for some people to sort out. And Carole doesn't like that.)


** I especially liked going here when it was our last retarded government's "Freedom Fries" days. Burn.