Great dealer overall. Thanks Irak for the prompt and attentive service when was looking for a replacement car.

Quick. Reasonable. And Friendly. And a free screen protector! 5

And they accept bitcoin.

My hot date wonderfully summarized our dinner here last Saturday, and I quote:

"I'm no food snob but I, at least, know bad food."

At first, I didn't want to give in, to throw in the towel and admit my defeat and agreeing to his conclusion about this much-hyped and recently named best new restaurant in the country by Bon Appetit Magazine. But after the dry-aged steak cooked medium rare was served, I fell to the floor, face down, tail between my legs, swallowed my pride and told him that I'm conceding. He's right, this place blows and sucks. And it's not just the food, mind you.

The dismal experience started before we even got to the place. I - being a nice person that I am - decided to send them an email to change our reservation from 2 to 3 people and gotten a reply that since they're a very small restaurant can't accommodate this request. Fine. Whatever. We're keeping our original reservation for 2.

On the day of the reservation, I got a VM on my phone with a NJ area code asking me to confirm our reservation but was told to email instead because their phone system is down. Fine. Whatever. Let's email our confirmation.

It was one of the hottest days in LA that fateful Saturday. HOT. Really HOT. 105°F HOT. My date and I decided to go first to a bar and have a drink before our dinner but we still arrived at Alma 30minutes early and were told by maître d' or seating host or whatever you call her that we will only be seated at 8pm sharp. Fine. Whatever. We'll sit by the window, order a couple of glasses of red wine and marvel at the magnificent LA sunset.

I noticed that it was HOT as hell inside the restaurant and asked the host why and was told that they don't have any central air conditioning. FINE. WHATEVER. We'll just take off our nicely-pressed dressed shirt and no one really cares about what we wear since this is LA.

Looked at my watched and saw the time. 7:45pm. Two empty tables inside the restaurant. Looked at my watched again. 7:50pm. Two empty tables inside the restaurant. Looked at my watch again. 7:55pm. Still two empty tables inside the restaurant. And again. 8:00pm. And finally was led to our table. Fine. Whatever. You're just being anal. Actually, you're more an @ss.

When we got seated, I was already in my undershirt, hot and bothered, my face glistening from my sweat, made worse by the open kitchen. Fine. Whatever. This is hell's kitchen.

We ordered the English muffin with burrata and caviar, their $5.00 homemade bread, snails with fingerling potatoes, Morro Bay black cod and their dry-aged rib eye steak and the cheapest red wine on the list, Croatian. Fine. Whatever. Let's get this dinner over with.

Although my date didn't say much about the fish other than it smelled 'fishy' and the steak could might as well be leather, I'll use how he described the other dishes we ordered because it's simple, easy to understand and downright accurate:

- The home-made bread is nothing but an overpriced Oroweat!
- The English muffin with burrata and caviar is two steps up from Chef Boyardee.

With half-eaten steak and fish, I cut my losses and waved at our server and told her we're done with dinner.

Check, please.

Apparently, the food critic who came here and the Bon Appetit team of editors that eventually chose this as the best new restaurant in the entire country are all smoking crack!

Waiting 30minutes on the phone only to be told that they don't have an update as to when power will be restored because of the Santa Ana winds that howled a couple of nights ago but they are doing their best, this is all I can say to you, LA DWP:

FU$#(%#)($#)I$#)(()#*)(#)(*#!@$%$(*#*!&@&($#)$((%*&%)(@#i)$)()#(*$)#($#*$(#*)$*#)(*$)#*$#(*$#*$*$#&($&#(#y*@%#&@*&#($^#)$&#)$^#t@^)@!CK YOU!