The headline for today's LAT review is somewhat confusing: "Wilshire restaurant reinvents itself as a serious dining destination." Chef Christopher Blobaum was nothing if not serious, which might have been the problem; he left in February after his and the owner's vision no longer meshed, and chef de cusine Andrew Kirschner took over, starting his menu this month. Somewhere between then and now, S. Irene Virbila finds Wilshire finally hitting its stride.
Come warm weather, this is going to be the place to be. And just in time. With tensions easing, Wilshire is less dysfunctional. Kirschner's assured, effortless-seeming cooking is a breath of fresh air. He's blessed with not only a good palate, but also a good eye. And he can execute, which makes him a triple threat.
The restaurant is more than two years old, and the nightlife vibe it had in the beginning has softened. No matter how good a chef or service is, when Miss Irene starts a review complaining about scantily clad women and being seated in "Siberia," as she did with the 2005 review, a restaurant really has to work to redeem itself. And Wilshire has: It gets an extra star taking it to three, something we haven't seen in these parts for awhile. Today the "S." stands for "shake up." [LAT]
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We're all for finding new restaurants in Central Coast wine country, but even S. Irene Virbila surprises us with this random pick. She heads way north---Santa Margarita, a few miles north of San Luis Obispo---to try The Range, a good country restaurant with cowboy sensibilities. Nothing revolutionary, just good:
On a weeknight, the place is half full, yet the chef and owner, Jeff Jackson, isn't cutting back. The waitress recites the four specials that night with real appreciation in her voice. She knows they're good. But I've already spotted crawfish cakes on the menu. Steak with red-eye gravy? For sure. A homey tomato bisque, wild arugula salad and seafood risotto. Sounds good. It all sounds good.
Everything's just so darn good, it's about the only adjective she can find (at least 10 times) to describe many things, from the French onion soup to the beet salad to the wine list. The tucked-away, mostly locals-only restaurant is so good it gets two stars. Today the "S." stands for "strange." [LAT]
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S. Irene Virbila feels the need to school all the detractors about Joe Miller's Bar Pintxo: Tapas are single servings to nibble on, not big portions for multi-course dining, and just drink the Spanish wines. This all said with a heavy dose of "quit your bitching" sensed between words. As much as Miss Irene appreciates Miller's attempts at running an almost traditional tapas bar, she has her quibbles with portions:
His seem oversized compared with Spanish versions. It's as if he wants to pile enough stuff on top that he can charge $4 or $5 each. (He's got serious overhead, more probably than a typical tapas bar in Spain has to float.) And it's these real tapas -- pieces of bread topped with chorizo, tuna salad or tomato -- that are the least satisfying items on the menu, oddly enough, though I do like the simple and classic grilled bread rubbed with fresh tomato and topped with serrano ham.
If you must eat a meal, get the paella, a seat at the bar and sip and nibble. And by the way, the bar stools inside are indeed uncomfortable, but they weren't designed for marathon dining. Bar Pintxo gets one-and-a-half stars. [LAT]
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Jonathan Gold checks out the newish Park's Barbecue in Koreatown, everything a Korean barbecue junkie could ask for and then some: "The waiter comes over, rubs the hot grill with a lump of beef suet. He flinches back as the melted fat explodes into a rush of blue flame. He lays meat on the grill as tenderly as you might put a kitten to bed, which almost makes sense — at more than $30 for an order of sliced Kobe-style beef and near that for short ribs, prime bulgogi or pork, this is the most expensive Korean barbecue in town. The unmarinated Kobe has already started to brown and curl. Even wrapped into a lettuce leaf with bean paste, half a raw garlic clove and a bit of coarse salt, if that's how you like it, the supremely beefy flavor comes through." [LA Weekly]
It's not everyday that S. Irene Virbila finds a restaurant on Hollywood Boulevard that she actually likes. With Melograno, getting inside was imperative; words like "gaudy" and "scruffy," both used to describe the Hollywood scene, and the cheap pizza place next door didn't exactly inspire our intrepid critic. Luckily, the Italian newcomer is owned by chef Alberto Lazzarino who's cooked throughout some of LA's better kitchens. His pastas speak volumes:
When the waiter proposes ravioli al plin here, he's offering the real thing, ravioli about as large as postage stamps with a dab of filling inside and characteristic pinches (plin) at the sides. Most of the time they're stuffed with a classic combination of finely minced roasted meats and Swiss chard and a little Parmigiano and sauced in either the meat's juices or a little butter and sage. Sometimes they're filled with fonduta (fontina cheese melted in milk) and taste like bite-sized fondue.
The menu was comforting on a rainy night, which must have been a weeknight. If La Cantina was bumpin' across the way or if crowds were filing back into Memphis (if its still open), who's to say the whole thing would've worked for her. Still, there's a distinct chance Miss Irene might actually go back to Melograno despite its "oddball" location. The ristorante gets two stars. Today the "S." stands for "slumming it."
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The headline for today's LAT review is somewhat confusing: "Wilshire restaurant reinvents itself as a serious dining destination." Chef Christopher Blobaum was nothing if not serious, which might have been the problem; he left in February after his and the owner's vision no longer meshed, and chef de cusine Andrew Kirschner took over, starting his menu this month. Somewhere between then and now, S. Irene Virbila finds Wilshire finally hitting its stride.
