GOING OUT
To Live and Dine in L.A.

The restaurant scene is thriving
in the City of Angels

By Colleen Dunn Bates

THE RESTAURANT IS BACK in Los Angeles. Not that it ever truly disappeared—this city has always loved to eat—but during the recession of the early nineties, openings slowed to a trickle, and party chat turned from dining to downsizing. Now that the economy is humming along, Angelenos are hungry again, and reservation books are full for days—sometimes weeks—in advance. 
            The hardest tables to score are the ones in the brick courtyard at Spago Beverly Hills. A hit within three seconds of opening, Wofgang Puck’s newest California venture has put serious dining back on the L.A. map; people plan a month ahead and dress up for the extraordinary contemporary American-French cooking of Puck protégé Lee Hefter. Puck’s wife, Barbara Lazaroff, designed the space with uncharacteristic subtlety, eschewing the wild colors of Granita and Chinois on Main in favor of sleek woodwork, soft lighting and spiffy details throughout, from handmade tiles to dramatically lit trees bordering the patio. Equally handsome are the guests, among whom are typically at least one major movie star and a handful of Hollywood’s most powerful (hence the paparazzi who camp on the sidewalk outside). 
            Still, snobbery is scarce, and ordinary mortals are treated well by the exceptionally professional and solicitous staff. What you’ll get for your sizable investment is a meal you’ll remember for quite some time. Hefter’s forays into luxury are worth the indulgence; his sampler of foie gras, for instance, is a masterpiece, playing different tastes and textures against the richness of the foie gras, never letting cleverness get in the way of the star ingredient. He changes part of the menu daily, and the rest seasonally, so be prepared for surprises. And do not fail to save room for the desserts by Sherry Yard. 
            Another venerable chef, Agostino Sciandri, is also dear to Hollywood players, who have packed his Toscana trattoria in Brentwood for years. Now, backed by investors including Robert De Niro and the owners of Miramax Films, Bob and Harvey Weinstein, he has expanded his mini empire by opening Ago (which is also his nickname) in a West Hollywood spot that most recently held Cicada. 
            An evening here is as much theater as dinner, what with the air-kissing and strutting around by plastic-surgery success stories. The shock, given the scene, is that the rustic northern Italian cooking is rigorously authentic and generally wonderful: grilled polenta with salt cod, a light and vibrant seafood soup, herb-infused roast chicken and the always worthy dishes starring branzino (sea bass).  
            Meanwhile, former tenant Cicada has decamped for luxe digs downtown, in the grand art deco space that once was Rex. The jury’s still out on Cicada’s food, but the setting is an unqualified smash. The shuffling continues with Vincenti, a terrific Italian restaurant in Brentwood recently opened by the wife of Rex’s late owner, Mauro Vincenti. 
            Despite the gaggle of new Italians, L.A. is veering toward Francophilia. After years of no steak frites and lots of spaghetti alla checca, the city has gone mad for bistros, from Bistrot Provencal on swank La Cienaga Boulevard to Les Deux Cafes on a funky Hollywood side street. Two of the most accomplished are a mere block apart. The first is Pastis, which is pledged to all things Provencal, from the homey interior to the duck with lavender and honey. The second is Mimosa, an elbow-to-elbow Parisian-style bistro featuring modestly priced French wines and equally affordable bistro classics. “No truffles, no caviar, no bizarre concoctions” reads the menu; instead, the many devotees dig into tomato tarte Tatin, heady steamed mussels en mouclade (with a sauce of white wine, cream and saffron) and the best cassoulet in town, then finish up with a traditional floating island or pear clafoutis. 
            French and Italian may wax and wane in popularity, but Mexican food will always be nearest to the hearts of Angelenos. The most beloved of the city’s countless Latin restaurants is El Cholo, which has been serving superb enchiladas and Margaritas since 1927 in a frayed neighborhood south of Mid-Wilshire. Now Westsiders have an El Cholo of their very own, a rambling place with tiled floors, arches, fountains, decoratively painted walls and a huge bar filled with cozy upholstered furniture. The menu changes once a decade or so: In summer, don’t miss the green corn tamales; otherwise, stick with Cal-Mex classics like chicken or crab enchiladas, pork carnitas, soft tacos and fajitas. 
            Los Angeles also has a yen for Asian food, as evidenced by such A-list newcomers as Indochine (a supermodel haven with French-Vietnamese food that’s big with the little black-dress crowd) and Jozu (first-rate Cal-Asian cooking). The most gee-whiz of the bunch is Beverly Hills’s Crustacean, a high-end French-Vietnamese restaurant that cost millions to create. The result is a fantasy of a colonial outpost in Southeast Asia, with a meandering under-floor koi pond; it’s rather amusing to sit at the spacious bar and watch the arriving guests, many of whom look a tad woozy from walking on water. Those seeking authentic (or cheap!) Vietnamese food might be disappointed, but some of the dishes are treasures, particularly the charbroiled royal tiger prawns on a bed of garlic noodles. 
            Of all the Asian cuisines, Japan’s has had the most profound impact on Southern California. Sushi bars are as prevalent as palm trees, and Japanese techniques and ingredients are used in many of the city’s best French, Italian and American kitchens. To discover how Japanese cuisine is evolving here, head over to Takao, a modest storefront in Brentwood created by alums from Matsuhisa, the most important Japanese restaurant of this generation. (Sushi Roku is another worthy new child of Matsuhisa.) In a bright, spare room with a mere ten tables and a sushi counter, a team of intense chefs turns out truly exciting food—sushi and sashimi, of course, but also amazing little cooked dishes, like the dainty medallions of grilled eggplant topped with crab, scallop, shrimp, a sweet miso sauce and red peppercorns. Check out the chalkboard specials to learn where the chefs really excel. 
            Joining in the national trend toward retro restaurants and meat-and-potatoes eating, Los Angeles has a slew of new supper clubs. One of the hardest reservations to land is at Rix, a retro-hip hot spot at the site of Santa Monica’s departed Abiquiu. In a tribute to the supper clubs of yore, Rix softens the modern building with roomy booths, dark woods, candlelight and black-and-white photos of fifties-era supper-club denizens. The upstairs club is usually packed to the gills, which might give serious diners pause since restaurants with major bar scenes often have sub-par cooking. But in this case, 28-year-old Neal Fraser (who was lured away from Boxer) is turning out modern American food that’s much better than the club crowd demands. Don’t miss the prosciutto-wrapped figs, the rice-crusted Chilean sea bass, the dreamy mashed potatoes and the rustic apple “tart” in a pastry cup. 
            Another supper club to try out is Nic’s, the Beverly Hills sibling of Larry Nicola’s downtown restaurant, Nicola. Art and architecture buff Nicola hired a crack team to design this sophisticated blend of the modern and the retro; the restaurant encompasses a sidewalk café, the sleek Martini Lounge complete with a baby grand (on which jazz artists play), a dining room with richly upholstered booths and banquettes, and a covered patio. Larry’s menu stays true to the supper club ethos, with some of his Mediterranean flair thrown in for good measure: baby lettuces with Kalamata olive croutons: dry-aged Delmonico steak with scalloped dill potatoes; and poached sturgeon with olives, thyme, roasted tomatoes and crayfish fumé. 
            With L.A.’s prosperity has come a distressing trend in its restaurants: the arrival of the velvet rope and hulking doorman, signifying an intention to be an exclusive nightclub. Yet for some reason, the imposing doorman at The Little Door is free of attitude and welcoming to anyone who has a reservation, and once you’ve passed through the carved wooden doorway, the staff exudes friendliness and charm. (The Little Door also boasts more age diversity than other hip spots—many diners are actually over 30.) This is hands down the city’s most romantic new restaurant, a secret hideaway with an old brick patio and a couple of quaint, tile-floored dining rooms, all lit with lots of candles. Contributing to the air of romance is an exceptional collection of wines by the glass and a generous, robust, Moroccan-influenced cuisine, ranging from marinated wild mushrooms with potato salad, to roasted pheasant with spiced figs, to tender veal shank with tomato and savory. 
            When you add these newcomers to an already vibrant restaurant scene, you’ve got a city that’s coming into its own, culinarily speaking. Once famous as a town in which people stayed home, Los Angeles is now a terrific place to go out—with an appetite.