December 10, 2013
There is a lot of hype going on around Wolvesmouth, the LA underground supper club / “culinary happening” that’s so fucking hip that it had a residency at the Santa Monica Museum of Art. It’s easy to see how Wolvesmouth could be passed over as overly pretentious bull. It’s one of the hardest tables to book in LA (probably even moreso than Trois Mec, due to high demand and its curated lottery system). The locations is secret, and you don’t get directions until the morning of the dinner. The plates themselves often look like Jackson Pollock paintings.
I am here to tell you: Wolvesmouth, both the experience and the food, is not bullshit.
ribeye cap. plantain. broc stalk. piña. mint aioli. queso fresco. broc tempura. black bean soubise.
Consider: this dinner takes place in someone’s home. Therefore, all of the cooking is done with the limitations of a home kitchen. Churning out nine courses from that space is impressive in itself. They may have two fridges, but your stove is probably better than theirs.
crab. cauliflower. turnip. cabbage. cider. brussels. apples. cabbage.
The food is way less postmodern than internet research would have you believe. Possibly due to the home kitchen environment, there are no foams, no spherification, no gimmicks. (Not that I’m anti-foam or anything, but sometimes it’s a bit too much.) For all the painterly flourishes and pretty platings, this is all honest food, sometimes with unexpectedly homey flavors. Really tasty stuff, folks. I’m not going to break it down dish by dish (as there are lots of other bloggers who have done that, and done it better than I ever could). Honestly, if you go, you won’t have the same menu I did.
ocean trout. marscapone. onion jam. profiterole. candied lemon geleé. snap pea. yellow wax.
November 20, 2013
MEAT. Hot, glistening, enormous MEAT.
That’s probably all I need to say about chi SPACCA, but here’s some more:
A ton of salumi. Our server informed us that there is a literal ton of smoked and cured meats hanging behind the kitchen.
I mean, you have to respect anyone who has whipped lard on a menu in LA.
dining out, los angeles |
Tags: bistecca fiorentina, bone marrow pot pie, chad colby, charcuterie, chi spacca, chispacca, food photography, los angeles chi spacca los angeles, los angeles restaurant, meat, mozza, nancy silverton, photography, salumi, salumi los angeles, steak |
November 13, 2013
This blog is not real life. You know that, right reader?
I talk about this with les blogueuses sometimes. Our sites filter our lives through a hazy glow of food and fun and travel and beauty and all the good things in life. The truth is, of course, that I have a nine-to-five where I sit at a desk and type a lot. Most of the stuff that shows up here is squeezed around the demands of being a capable adult.
There are some times, though, when it feels like I’ve dropped out of real life and into some bizarre, richly-colored parody — a cross of Hollywood movie magic and the sparkling glamour of Paris. This was one of those nights.
There was a house party. There were two bars. There was a party bus, and a case of champagne that disappeared in half an hour, some of which was, of course, spilled and had to be mopped up with a silk scarf. There was singing of Queen and lots of blurry photos.
And, undoubtedly, there were hangovers and a hard return to reality the next day.
November 12, 2013
Sunday morning brunch. Gorgeous, diffuse light and creative food that breaks the typical brunch mold. Interesting textures all around.