One of the first places I've been to eat in Los Angeles is the Overland Cafe here in West LA.  Steven and I walked there from his apartment Monday morning (Labor Day holiday) for brunch.  When we arrived, the line to get in was almost out the door and I expected a long wait.  Although getting to the hostess to get our names on the list was a bit confusing for a moment due to the all the people crowding the entrance, it turned out we were seated immediately at a table for two in the back.  We ordered the champagne brunch in celebration of the move.  The champagne was very nice, and this is quite a compliment considering I tend to be a bit skeptical about champagne in general. 

While waiting for the food to arrive we had plenty of original artwork hanging on the walls, much of which I found to be appealing to my senses.  The artwork was mostly done in big geometrical strokes and bold colors.  I'm sorry I didn't get the name of the artist.  Her use of color reminded me a great deal of Emily Carr, although the similarities don't extend much farther than that.  Emily Carr worked primarily in oils, and this person appeared to have used mostly watercolor.  Carr focused on landscape (a bit abstractly) and this mystery artist focused on images of people (quite abstractly).

The food itself was delicious.  I believe Steven had some sort of tamale with black beans and rice.  I tried a bite of the tamale and it was quite tasty and flavorful.  It was my own breakfast that I have to rave about, however.  I ordered eggs florentine with grilled ham.  I received this gorgeous (and huge) plate with two toasted english muffin halves topped with grilled ham, freshly sauteed baby spinach, the best poached eggs I've ever had (ever), and a hollandaise sauce that was creamy and good.  Alongside these were some crispy browned potatoes that were seasoned perfectly and absolutely wonderful, although I admit my focus was not on the potatoes.

Breakfast is one of those meals that I enjoy when done well, but which I find is rarely done adequately, especially at restaurants.  So I tend to not get excited.  Like chick flicks, I go in with low expectations of quality, wanting only to have my most basic of desires fulfilled, and for a low price.  The price wasn't low here, but I can guarantee I will find poached eggs disappointing forever after this meal.  The eggs were fluffy and hot, not hard or cold, and their flavor indicates their source being from some very well-treated chicken who must survive on gourmet feast and sunshine rather than the usual chicken slop and crowded, unclean quarters.

Needless to say, we left well-fed, and enjoyed our much needed digestion-inducing walk afterward.