Status Post MB Post – Manhattan Beach

I never thought a trendy brunch could become philosophical, but apparently, delivering the menus in fake-postmarked envelopes was all it took to motivate my musing mind. Aside from an adorably obvious presentation of the restaurant’s theme, I was starting to wonder if stamping the menus gave them a higher chance of getting lost in the mail before they made it to the table.

Then I started thinking that when I put my name into the computer algorithm that spits out the residency match, my fate was actually very much like putting a letter in the mail. I addressed and stamped my match list, and gave it signed, sealed, and delivered into the hands of a seemingly omniscient mailman and hoped that he would take me where I was meant to be.

Sometimes that letter really does go where it’s supposed to, and the result looks something like that penciled-in Polenta dish on the menu at MB Post. The combination and quantity of every ingredient, every little speck of poached egg, tomato, white bean ragout, and bianco sardo was dead on. There was a place on the palate for everything in this dish, and everything was in its place.

Sometimes everything goes according to plan, but sometimes even the most carefully planned letter can go astray. Sometimes, I feel like the residency match was the absent-minded mailman who lost me and placed me as far away as possible from everyone and everything I ever knew. At first, leaving the east coast was like the Corned Beef Cheek Hash: a mish-mash of promising ingredients with potential that just didn’t quite work. The beef and potatoes go well with the gooey yolk of the fried egg, but somehow all these great pieces didn’t quite come together.

I felt as disjointed as that dish when I first moved to Cali, but things have gotten better since. I think sometimes you think you’re in the wrong place but that place turns out to be where you belong after all, even if it’s not where you saw yourself. If any dish were to convince me of that, it’d be the Truffle Honey Laced Fried Chicken. This sweet potato-battered southern spin was all I needed to convince me that maybe there is a place for a southern girl in SoCal. This sweet, tender chicken would give any southern mama a run for her money, and the Kholrabi Slaw on the side was a crunchier take on a sweet southern favorite, almost as sweet as feeling like maybe you’ve found yourself a new home sweet home.

When you see a fork in the road, take it. Even if it takes you away from home. Grasp your own fate, don’t leave it up to a mailman called chance. And when you want something done, do it yourself. Deliver your own fate instead of leaving it up to a man in khaki who drives the world’s slowest truck.

But now that I’ve given it some most thought, I don’t really care what you do when you see a fork in the road. If you don’t take it, I will, and then I’ll rinse it off, use it to eat my brunch at MB Post, and leave you wondering what you missed.