As we’ve seen, a frosted-out flag cake can be the perfect confectionery complement to your stars-and-stripes bikini and Old Glory nail art. Yet, if you’re as OCDelightful as me, you cannot stop there. It’s your all-American duty to go overboard. It’s as if MJ, Mr. America himself, were looking down from his Peter Pan-plastic surgery-Diprivan heaven, imploring you in high falsetto: it don’t matter if you’re black or white, but this independence day, you best bring the red, white, and blue. Ow!

As a former New Yorker, I had to endure years of New Yorkers proclaiming New York City to be so original that no city could ever measure up. While it’s true that New York is unique in its ability to be overcrowded, dirty, expensive, and loud, there is something that Los Angeles has that New York will never have: the Cinespia Hollywood Forever movie series, or, The Greatest Summer Invention of All Time.

I find the Fourth of July in Los Angeles, or really any major party holiday, kind of terrifying. When you add driving to the equation of barbeques and all-day beer drinking, you end up with a mess. This is why last year, I spent the evening in Venice and biked to the beach and the parties we attended, as did all the people in the area. It was fun. That said, if you insist on driving around to Fourth events, we have a few:

Nice guys sometimes finish second. I sat on the Emma Cleary story to allow time for negotiations to continue in private and my fair friends over at Grub Street ended up beating me to the punch. Since yesterday, a bad situation has gotten worse and lawsuits and injunctions seem to be imminent. The much awaited redux of Double Happiness into a restaurant lounge manned by gal around town Emma Cleary will most likely not happen. Although sources have told me that the space is just about done, internal strife between the investors and Emma have reached defcon 5 and she “feels better just walking away.” The problem here for the investment group is that it is her dear name on the liquor license. It is my understanding that if she does turn in the license as she plans to do, as early as today, the place will have to reapply, a process that will push the opening back for a year and maybe forever.

I can never leave well enough alone. Maybe it’s an offshoot of being a teacher and having dominion over especially pliable minds for most of my workdays, but I always like to improve things. There’s rarely a recipe that can’t benefit from a dash of customization. Like the Salty Dog—traditionally vodka and grapefruit with a salt rim. Classic drink, and fun to pronounce in a deep-Brooklyn accent. Bahkeep, two sawlty dawgs! I love the sour-salty flavor combination, but wouldn’t another layer make it that much better? There’s nothing like salty sweetness for hitting the spot on a hot summer evening. Like fresh kettle corn or a well-made margarita, the combination satisfies both ends of the taste spectrum. Salty rounds out sweet, while sweet tempers the salty. Add some sour and bitter flavors, like lime and grapefruit, and you’re hitting four primary tastes all at the same time. “Sour, sweet, bitter, pungent, all must be tasted,” goes the Chinese proverb. I think salty counts as pungent. Well, anyway, close enough for Chinese proverb work.

It brings a fuzzy feeling to our hearts to see former interns who use the skills acquired at BlackBook to actually do something meaningful with their lives like, you know, marry Mandy Moore. So last night, we were brought to near tears when our own Jena Steinbach hosted the SoHo launch party of her newish gastronomically inclined website The Young and Hungry.

Ancient rockers Don Hill and Nicki Camp will celebrate their birthdays at a “gala event” at—you guessed it—Don Hill’s. They’re saying it’s a gala event because gala is only two syllables and four letters and they’re getting very old. They’re not Steve Lewis old, but very old indeed. Don has been around since before The Beatles (not the band, the species). As owner of Don Hill’s, he’s involved with booking the bands, hiring staff, community relations and PR, lighting, sound, and hell, at the end of the night he sweeps out the joint. I spent a year there last night talking to Don, Nicki, and my pal Mark Lewis. We talked about olden days and old friends alive and dead while I waited on a death metal band called Humanity Falls that I had promised to check out.

The glory of the Obama inauguration aside, it’s been a pretty rough time to be an American, and many of us are feeling it. Wars, waterboarding, W., foreclosures, financial foolishness ... Hell, Farrah and Michael Jackson just died. But you know what? Saturday is the Fourth of July and goddammit, that means it’s time to take a moment and salute the flag. I prefer my tributes to the land of my birth to be corny and sweet. No reading the Declaration of Independence aloud for me. Too earnest. But no snarky Eurotrash derision either. This is a great country with a great history well worth celebrating. That’s why I strongly encourage all of you, when inevitably invited to one of the holiday’s de rigueur festive barbecues or get-togethers, to bring the flag cake. (If you’re doing the hosting yourself, this is your dessert.) Full disclosure: this is the Donald Rumsfeld of cakes—it will shock and awe at first, but is frankly kind of stupid.

The Nightlife Preservation Community event at M2 was by all accounts a smashing success. Thousands of people came out to enjoy the amazing talent. The politicians that came were enlightened as to the realities of the numbers of voters who enjoy nightlife. With over a million names at our fingertips (after overlap it should end up being over 700,000 dedicated names), nightlife will become very political. Politicians who favor fair treatment for the business of clubs, patrons, and hundreds of thousands of employees will have their campaign efforts supported by email blasts. Community groups and government agencies will have access to our names as well.

● Ward III (Tribeca) - Custom cocktails? They know what you like.
● Piccola Cucina (Soho) - Studio apartment-sized space, but there’s nothing small about the flavors.
● DBGB Kitchen & Bar (East Village) - This ain’t no Mudd Club or CBGB. Boulud classes up the Bowery with a tavern/brasserie.