Little Miss Unemployed restaurant review
What would I do with a famous last name I wonder. Would I open a restaurant and not so subtley endow it with said name? I just might if it had a nice americana ring to it and would conjure echoes of California Girls in the ears of patrons in the know. So yes, I suppose I would take a gamble on my famous last name if it was Wilson and not simply because my father is a famous surf-crooner, but because it doesn't hurt to have the association. Or the accolades. I've never eaten at the cult favorite and Chef's alma mater, 5 Dudley, but I have visited it's new incarnation which I found charming and deliciously perfect. Wilson, being born of a partnership between the owners of Piccolo and said hot chef/Beach Boy offspring, sounded like it would be a no brainer-right-up-my-alley kind of place. But Culver City is a new territory for me and I'm just not sure I can handle this new breed of "casual fine dining."
Last friday, RG treated me to dinner at Wilson for a belated thank-you-for-driving-my-ass-to-the-airport-at-7:30am-on your-birthday dinner. Having read some pretty glowing reviews of the restaurant, I decided to wear my brand new blue dress that was my alternate birthday dress (in case I decided the black one I actually wore really did make my hips look wide and accentuated my back flab). I also eagerly perused the menu on the website on Friday afternoon because if I could get a job doing anything, I might just consider becoming a menu reader. Sometimes your imagination can be better than the food and in your imagination you can order the potato & fig tortelli in a bed of parmesan fondue and not worry about the carbs and the fat.
I am very much of the "ambience and attitude add volumes to the dining experience" school of thought and I wouldn't have minded the unflattering flourescent lighting that made everyone's skin look pallid and grey, the schoolyard fence we were seated next to and middle-aged irritated waiter who described the parmesan fondue as a "cheese paste" if I was expecting a meal where my entree didn't cost more than $20. Perhaps my expectations for young chef Wilson were too high, but we felt like we were eating in a cafeteria set up on a Tennis Court with all the accoustics of Washington Blvd enhancing our friendly conversation and the biggest tragedy of the evening: only beer and wine. It just so happens that wine happens to produce that lovely affect of "asian flush" when I drink it and RG seems to have an adverse acid-reflux relationship with beer - but it would have been worse to have nothing.
What we ordered:
RG - Cabernet
Me - Coriander infused Beer: decent for beer but it was no Bud Light
Appetizer: Heirloom tomatoes with goat cheese: I love heirloom tomatoes but these were a bit soft and over macerated with balsamic by the time they reached our table.
Entrees:
RG - slowww roasted pork with african spices, fresh corn polenta & bbq fresh cherry sauce: According to RG there is nothing like SLOWWW roasted pork. I didn't taste it but those extra w's and african spices must really do something. However, the fresh corn polenta was quite yummy with that goldilocks-just-right porridge texture and sweet taste of summer corn.
Me - Home-made tagliolini with truffle butter sauce and shaved black truffles: I have recently developed a soft spot for home-made pasta and having read in the LA Times review that this was the dish to order, I went with it. It was, after all, a birthday celebration. The pasta arrived with all the pomp and circumstance it would require given the portion size and the price (pretty small/quite $$) arriving by way of three people - one to bring the dish, one to hold the basket of fresh black (summer) truffles and a chef who with little precision scraped the knobby back bulbs over a grate on my plate and also a bit on the table. Even so, the pasta was rubbery and thick and the truffle butter sauce under the glare of the tennis stadium lighting really did look like paste. The truffles were good, but not mind-blowing and I don't know if I would order it again. I didn't even finish it.
Verdict: I know new restaurants need the first few months to work out their kinks so I won't say that I will never go back but I think this place is better suited for the business lunch crowd than the birthday dinner crowd. Next time I will definitely request a table inside (although with the open kitchen, I can't imagine how much more intimate conversation would be) and order something less bougie. I will also not get a spec of goat cheese on my new blue dress which I suspect may never come out. I can see how this sounds. You are probably thinking - well, little miss smarty pants, let's see if you can do any better. And truthfully, I can't. I'm just saying when you give people reason to expect a lot from you, you should deliver.
On another note, ironic isnt' it that the author if this tome is not me but and MD:
Last friday, RG treated me to dinner at Wilson for a belated thank-you-for-driving-my-ass-to-the-airport-at-7:30am-on your-birthday dinner. Having read some pretty glowing reviews of the restaurant, I decided to wear my brand new blue dress that was my alternate birthday dress (in case I decided the black one I actually wore really did make my hips look wide and accentuated my back flab). I also eagerly perused the menu on the website on Friday afternoon because if I could get a job doing anything, I might just consider becoming a menu reader. Sometimes your imagination can be better than the food and in your imagination you can order the potato & fig tortelli in a bed of parmesan fondue and not worry about the carbs and the fat.
I am very much of the "ambience and attitude add volumes to the dining experience" school of thought and I wouldn't have minded the unflattering flourescent lighting that made everyone's skin look pallid and grey, the schoolyard fence we were seated next to and middle-aged irritated waiter who described the parmesan fondue as a "cheese paste" if I was expecting a meal where my entree didn't cost more than $20. Perhaps my expectations for young chef Wilson were too high, but we felt like we were eating in a cafeteria set up on a Tennis Court with all the accoustics of Washington Blvd enhancing our friendly conversation and the biggest tragedy of the evening: only beer and wine. It just so happens that wine happens to produce that lovely affect of "asian flush" when I drink it and RG seems to have an adverse acid-reflux relationship with beer - but it would have been worse to have nothing.
What we ordered:
RG - Cabernet
Me - Coriander infused Beer: decent for beer but it was no Bud Light
Appetizer: Heirloom tomatoes with goat cheese: I love heirloom tomatoes but these were a bit soft and over macerated with balsamic by the time they reached our table.
Entrees:
RG - slowww roasted pork with african spices, fresh corn polenta & bbq fresh cherry sauce: According to RG there is nothing like SLOWWW roasted pork. I didn't taste it but those extra w's and african spices must really do something. However, the fresh corn polenta was quite yummy with that goldilocks-just-right porridge texture and sweet taste of summer corn.
Me - Home-made tagliolini with truffle butter sauce and shaved black truffles: I have recently developed a soft spot for home-made pasta and having read in the LA Times review that this was the dish to order, I went with it. It was, after all, a birthday celebration. The pasta arrived with all the pomp and circumstance it would require given the portion size and the price (pretty small/quite $$) arriving by way of three people - one to bring the dish, one to hold the basket of fresh black (summer) truffles and a chef who with little precision scraped the knobby back bulbs over a grate on my plate and also a bit on the table. Even so, the pasta was rubbery and thick and the truffle butter sauce under the glare of the tennis stadium lighting really did look like paste. The truffles were good, but not mind-blowing and I don't know if I would order it again. I didn't even finish it.
Verdict: I know new restaurants need the first few months to work out their kinks so I won't say that I will never go back but I think this place is better suited for the business lunch crowd than the birthday dinner crowd. Next time I will definitely request a table inside (although with the open kitchen, I can't imagine how much more intimate conversation would be) and order something less bougie. I will also not get a spec of goat cheese on my new blue dress which I suspect may never come out. I can see how this sounds. You are probably thinking - well, little miss smarty pants, let's see if you can do any better. And truthfully, I can't. I'm just saying when you give people reason to expect a lot from you, you should deliver.
On another note, ironic isnt' it that the author if this tome is not me but and MD:
posted by shewannabecool at 5:31 PM
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