socca for your boca

trois mec

The frosted glass door and windows at Trois Mec concealed the neo-bistro to the public. Crossing through the threshold an aggressive “bonsoir” would greet hungry patrons. Every guest has paid a full price to play in this alternative restaurant. There was a period of time when food was more experimental, more queer. Trois Mec was an eight bar stools, four tables, two full turns kind of place. For roughly one year some exquisite comedy and hospitality took place beyond the frosted glass.

I moved to Los Angeles to pursue improv and stand-up. My friend Leah was already living in LA with her fiancé. Her and I were thick as thieves at The French Laundry previously. The managers at The French Laundry drafting the floor plan would keep us separate. The tectonic rumble of laughter Leah and I could conduct was distracting for most. Our twisted sense of humor was invigorating for us and a select few that understood.

Leah has and always will be a hustler. Perhaps its her taste in music or her ability to take in information growing her ever-expanding knowledge of entrepreneurship. She said she would put in a good word for me at her nighttime gig at Trois Mec. The restaurant was built on European principles, automatic gratuity, no choices, supplements, a socialist-leaning structure for all guests to abide by, etc. The restaurant experienced a traumatic event right before I was hired. The general manager committed suicide and the assistant general manager was fulfilling all of the duties without the title or the raise. My levity and charm secured me the position in the wake of such horror.

Within weeks, maybe a few months, Leah and I were practically running the place. The owner hired a new general manager and a new assistant general manager. The GM was a piece of work. He insisted he handle all of the bottles with the designation of “Grand Cru.” Leah and I let this man-child with an inflated ego do as he wished. After a few weeks we noticed his raids of the wine cellar. He would leave with a half case of allocated wines in his dusty tote bag into the night set for a weekend in Big Bear.

Leah and I were responsible for organizing an order list on the white board. We would make up silly little grape varietals, “To order: Riesling Rouge, Cinsault Gris, Sparkling Gewürztraminer” The GM would annoyingly erase the needs that weren’t real from the board. As an art project, Leah and I flushed out a character named “Fat Batman” and drew him on the whiteboard as a mascot to get through grueling days under the GM’s dictatorship.

Amongst an amazing cast of characters we developed my personal favorite was, “Jazzy Dracula.” He looks like Dracula but sounds like a theater-gay from the 1950’s with a transatlantic accent and an inclination for singing.

Around this time our friend and co-worker Julie discovered the product casing for a dildo in the bathroom. Julie screamed from inside whilst cleaning. We ran over to see if she was okay. She emerged holding the hollowed packaging which once held a full blown dildo. The owner was disgusted, yet amused. We had a feeling it was one of the over-sexed servers (no shame) from the neighboring sister restaurant Petit Trois. Collectively we were great detectives, alas we didn’t find the culprit.

socca at Zimmi’s, West Village, 2025

The assistant general manager Leah and I had when we started at Trois Mec used to close each night with the same song. When the last guest left the frosted glass chamber, “socca party on the beach” would blare from the overhead speakers. This jovial tune was menacing in nature as it felt like a guru’s tyranny of positivity. The owner could have yelled at everyone just an hour before but this song was supposed to conceal the pain with a “no bad days” mentality. Eventually it worked. We relished in the songs serotonin exclamation point to the end of the day.

Trois Mec was a funny little place. It doesn’t exist anymore. The memories of getting through the fractured nature of LA restaurants is what I’ve held onto. Leah and I were convinced the restaurant was haunted. Wine glasses would just throw themselves on the floor shattering into a million pieces. We built an extraordinary wax sculpture from tapered candles on the service peninsula. I really loved the genius of everyone that worked there, despite our character flaws. What I witnessed was Leah’s genius. She had two jobs, an upcoming wedding and the discomfort that comes with living in LA. She had become funnier than ever to me. To find a friend in life with a similar sense of humor to yours is a gift I’m forever grateful for.