Chow Time at Animal

When JP and I heard that the Food Dudes’ newest venture on Fairfax was opening, we knew we had to try it. A week and a half ago, we finally got our wish.

The Dark Knight, JP, and I entered the spartan space with high hopes. Seeming to want their diners to focus only on the food and drink, owners Jon Shook and Vinny Dotolo have no décor to speak of, except for light bulbs and a polished concrete floor. Not a problem, for the three of us are exactly the kind of diners Animal was made for, omnivorous oenophiles. With every wine on the list available by the glass, carafe (half-bottle), or bottle—plus some unlisted wines on offer, if you know to ask—this appeared to be the kind of place we could get used to.

And indeed, it is.

With stomachs a-growl, we ordered three starters: tender, toothy, smoky ribs with piquant panzanella; melty, chorizo-heavy, gooey petit basque with crostini; meaty, smoky gravy smothering seared foie gras atop a biscuit base. Yes, our inner carnivores had taken over.

The ribs were expectedly delish, nearly falling off the bone. Paired with a vaguely oaky Spanish red, they blew the Dark Knight away. JP and I split the last bites of petit basque, a queso fundito kind of application, and the creamy foie. Sipping a yeasty French red made those final nibbles of foie even better.


For our mains, we shared the halibut, fried quail, and flatiron steak with sweetbreads nuggets. The halibut, our one nod to healthy eating, was juicy and moist. The steak was perfectly seasoned (I know, I’m obsessed with that) and the sweetbreads nuggets were so mildly flavored as to have almost no taste, save for the seasoned breading. One the one hand, I wish there was more flavor—but on the other, I’m glad I didn’t taste anything funky.

The real star of the table, though, was the fried quail. A heap of tiny halved birds deep-fried to a golden brown, this was the epitome of elevated comfort food. There are no more words, I…I think I’m addicted.

Never a group to shy away from unique flavor combinations, we opted for the chocolate crunch bacon bar as one of our desserts. The Dark Knight was most excited for this dish, as it embodies his two favorite things: sweet and salty. Tasting a bit like a candy bar, the dark ganache was punctuated by the smoky, crunchy bacon shards.

JP’s nectarine and blueberry cobbler, steaming hot and bubbling with goodness, tasted as though the fruits had just been picked that afternoon. The cobbler topping, crumbly and flaky, served to enhance the natural sweetness of the fruit.


My Bellweather ricotta drizzled with honey and served with toasted brioche points was refreshing and light. This is no ordinary ricotta here: fluffy and accented by a citrus-scented honey, it is the very essence of a simple, Italian-inspired dessert.

We may have entered Ditolo and Shook’s minimalist restaurant hungry like wolves, but we left sated and peaceful. Forget music to soothe the savage beast—send it to Animal!

Animal
435 N. Fairfax Ave. (near Oakwood Ave.)
Los Angeles, CA 90036
323-782-9225

Malibu Magic with Room Forty

Last weekend, the Dark Knight and I trekked deep into Malibu for another enchanted meal with Room Forty. With the sun slipping closer and closer to the horizon, we were concerned that our sweater-less outfits would prove unwise, but the weather was as magical as the meal.

The passed hors d’oeuvres included deviled eggs sprinkled with toasted slivered almonds, crostini topped with Humboldt Fog and clementine marmalade, beet juice-colored linguine, and sweet pea puree on housemade chips. The eggs and crostini were delicious, tweaked slightly from last month's dinner, but just as tasty. The linguine was perfectly cooked and the pea puree was, frankly, amazing. The 2007 Whitehawk Viognier that was served upon arrival had a bit of a honey nose, a hint of lychee on the palate, and green pear endnotes. When tasted with each of the various hors d’oeuvres, we discovered layers of flavors in both the dishes and wine that were brought out by the pairing.

Herman Story Wines was the featured winery of the night, with winemaker Russell From on hand to give brief notes about each tasting. One of the very best things about these winemaker dinners is talking to someone who really loves wine—but an unexpected perk is getting to taste wines that are not yet (or are about to be) on the market, like the Whitehawk and our next wine, the 2007 Tomboy blend of 40% Marsanne, 40% Roussane, and 20% Viognier.

This velvety wine was served with our first seated course, a mildly creamy roasted red corn bisque garnished with roasted pistachios. Drizzled with pistachio oil, and topped with an apple chip and slightly curried apple compote, this light soup was the perfect match to the Tomboy. The flavors combined to create a feeling of luxury and comfort.

The next course, subtly seasoned smoked Idaho trout over a forest mushroom salad with Pee Wee potatoes, mache, and thyme buerre blanc, was a hit at our table. Even those whose first experiences with smoked trout were less than stellar enjoyed this plate, especially when tasted with the vibrant 2006 Santa Barbara County Grenache.

One of our dining partners let out a low moan of pleasure when the next dish came out: juicy, perfectly seasoned Maple Leaf duck breast over a bed of Napa cabbage and duck confit. The accompanying yellow stone-ground grits and juniper demi-glace tied the entire plate together nicely. Paired with a vaguely raisin-scented 2004 San Luis Obispo County Syrah whose quiet plum flavor opened up beautifully, the succulent duck really shined. “The duck should get five stars,” noted Dr. K, as she finished the last bite of this, her favorite course.

The 2006 Nuts and Bolts Santa Barbara County Syrah tasted of dates and warmth, with a nicely rounded palate. It was served with my favorite course of the night, grilled veal loin over a soothing celery root puree with sautéed spring vegetables and red onion marmalade. The cotton onion nest provided a nice textural contrast, also adding a salt element to balance out the sweetness of the celery root puree and onion marmalade. I adored the veal over all else, though, its tenderness and flavor unmistakable and unique under the care of the highly talented Room Forty staff.

Dessert was a study in chocolate—chocolate banana cream pie with caramelized bananas and chantilly cream on one side, chocolate blackout cake layered with fluffy peanut butter mousse and peanut crisp on the other side. The banana side was heavenly, clouds of banana in a dark chocolate shell. The peanut butter side blew me away, though. Not too sweet, not too rich, the peanut butter mousse lent a wonderful textural foil to the slight tooth of the cake. It was the favorite of our table, a dessert I’m sure I’ll be dreaming about well into the next month.

A lovely final touch to the Room Forty experience was the mini muffin provided to guests, fluffy cake mixed with coconut and sprinkled with sugar. The note on the package says, “Good Morning,” promising a sweet start to the next day.

With stellar service, delicious food, a breathtaking venue, and wonderful wine, July’s Room Forty event was unforgettable.

Comfort Food, a la Mainland

It’s rare that the Dark Knight and I find ourselves craving dishes day after day. Boba, perhaps. Lasagna, certainly. A new addition to our list: shrimp toast.

Despite our dissatisfaction with Table 10, we decided to give the eateries at Palazzo another try, this time heading to Mainland for a culinary tour of Asia.

On our first visit, we tried the shrimp toast, grilled pork chop over chilled vermicelli noodles, kimchee fried rice, and duck wontons. The shrimp toast was everything I had been craving for the past five years (no one makes shrimp toast in LA, apparently): deep-fried goodness and sweet, delectable shrimp dipped in a medium-spiced kewpie mayonnaise.


The Dark Knight’s pork chop, though expectedly more expensive than its local mom-and-pop counterparts, was thoroughly seasoned and cooked until just done. The juicy meat and pickled veggies left the Dark Knight sated and happy.

My duck wontons carried more star anise flavor than I enjoyed, but the kimchee fried rice created a nice balance against the heaviness.

We also tried their alcoholic milkshakes—vodka and lychee for the Dark Knight, soju and rose petals for me. After first sips that left us reeling from the heavy alcohol content, the rest of the drinks smoothed out. Finally, by the end of the meal, we were slurping the last dregs of our shakes. My drink, made with the ubiquitous Korean alcohol, had a floral aroma from beginning to end of each mouthful. Not too sweet, the intensity of the rose petal infusion was a lovely final taste at the end of my meal. The Dark Knight’s drink tasted just like a non-alcoholic lychee shake, save for that initial sip. Both milkshakes capped off a mostly-wonderful meal.

The next day, we met for lunch at Mainland again, the taste of shrimp toast still lingering on our palates. This time, we enjoyed the toast we’ve been obsessing about, the steamed beef dumplings, and crispy vegetable wontons.

The shrimp toast did not disappoint, and we wolfed it down immediately.

The beef dumplings, tender wrappers filled with pine nuts and grilled steak pieces, surprised us both with the flavor combination. Dipping the succulent bites in a spicy peanut sauce, the Dark Knight and I swooned over the plate between sips of warm sake.

To ensure that we received a serving of vegetables, I ordered the crispy vegetable wontons—deep-fried purses stuffed with shiitake mushrooms, pea sprouts, leeks, and spinach. This modern take on a classic dim sum dish was nicely executed.

And so balance has been restored to the universe: one terrible Palazzo restaurant, two nearly perfect experiences at another. Delish!

Table 10...and a half

No. No, no, no, no, no. The Dark Knight and I tried so hard to like Emeril Lagasse’s latest offering at Palazzo in Las Vegas, Table 10. But we couldn’t. There are so many things wrong here: billed as a New Orleans-inspired fine dining restaurant, we expected food that would bring our tastebuds back to the glory days of NOLA cuisine; barring the NOLA experience, we wanted delicious food; given Emeril’s long history of successful establishments, we thought it wouldn’t be too much to ask to have a normal table on a fairly vacant night. Foiled on all counts.

This isn’t to say that everything was horrible. Quite the contrary—when the food was good, it was pretty good. My starter of seafood and andouille sausage gumbo with white rice was tasty in all the right ways, though perhaps a bit too spicy for my taste.

My main course, fennel-cured salmon over lightly dressed arugula and mandolined cucumbers, was refreshing and wonderful. The Dark Knight’s dessert of sorbet, including pear, blackberry, and strawberry, was great. And my white chocolate-filled malasadas, those balls of fried dough so central to Hawaiian cuisine, were deep-fried perfection.

But that’s the problem. The one dish on the menu that was overtly NOLA was just…fine. Our favorite dish was Hawaiian (by way of Portugese) in nature, a severe departure from the publicized intent of Table 10.

The Dark Knight’s starter, escargot in a gravy-like butter sauce over a crouton round was barely edible. “Flavorless, rabbit turd-looking mess,” said the Dark Knight as I reached across the table to try it. I nodded in agreement.

We dismissed that dish as an example of a recipe gone awry. But when the Dark Knight’s entrée arrived, we realized that this was going to be a strange night. On the menu, roasted salmon over chorizo and tomatoes sounds pretty good. On the plate, however, it’s downright awful. The salmon, slightly overcooked, arrived atop a mushy mélange of tortilla chunks and chorizo cubes, tossed in a chunky tomato sauce. The sauce itself was rather bland, lending a sameness of flavor to every bite. Given that most NOLA food is not only highly seasoned, but rarely employs tortillas, this plate gave us pause. What was this? We wondered.

Dessert seemed to have come from a completely different kitchen. The sorbets were delightful in their vibrant fruitiness. My malasadas were warm, dusted in cinnamon-sugar, and pleasantly crisp on the outside. The interior was uniformly soft and moist, fluffy with just the right amount of chewiness. The accompanying crème anglaise was nothing to write home about, but it sufficed.

The real star of the show was my drink, an absinthe concoction with fruit juice and blueberries. The licorice flavor of the absinthe was front and center, but nicely balanced by the sweetness of the fruit. Every sip was a search for treasure—the treasure being bits of muddled blueberries. Garnished with a sprig of mint, the aroma was enticing and clean.

Earlier, I noted that the layout of the restaurant is questionable. The reason I bring it up at all is that it is a physical manifestation of all that is wrong at Table 10. The Dark Knight’s half of the table was in one dining room—hardwood floors, a glass wall showcasing an enormous wine collection—while my half of the table was in what appeared to be a walkway. The two spaces were defined by a curtain that, when drawn, would have cut the table in half. A visual cue to diners at our table, and the matching one next to us, that there are indeed two worlds here: the one with inconsistent food, and the one with delicious drinks.

I try not to write about negative experiences on this blog, but this is one instance in which I feel it’s important to alert my (laughably few) readers to the disappointment that is Table 10. After all, no one should have to suffer the way the Dark Knight and I have.