The Knife

# 8 Chakra: MAYBE

If New York can have a Tabla, why can't we? LA may never know.

High point Lamb tandoori that makes you wonder if other places serve mutton. A ginger mojito that won't send you into a diabetic coma. Next door to the WGA Theater.

Low point Tandoori mushrooms stuffed with mushy paneer; $27 for five dabs of creamed spinach, each topped with a slightly gritty (although large) scallop.

Saving grace Service and setting a cut above most curry houses. And it's not Nirvana, which features a tee-hee Kama Sutra menu and dishes like wild boar with mango coulis.

# 9. J Restaurant & Lounge: NO

Part of the ongoing downtown renaissance, blah blah. What if they gave a renaissance and nobody came?

High point Nice history in those exposed brick walls. The owners saved a handsome landmark.

Low point Open letter to Los Angeles: ENOUGH WITH THE RESTAURANT-LOUNGE CONCEPTS. Eating dinner inside a 25,000-square foot warehouse feels weird and lonely. And until those elusive loft pioneers embrace it, there’s not enough to make you want to find Olive Street after dark.

Saving grace It's right by Staples Center. And if you need to throw a big party downtown, it's got three bars, cabanas, a firepit and a great skyline view from the second floor's 10,000 square-foot patio.

#10 Circa 55: NO

Love the furniture. Can't eat furniture.

High point Wondering what the late Billy Wilder would think about his beloved Griff's becoming Frank Sinatra's Palm Springs entertainment pit.

Low point Sweet baked beans passed off as cassoulet. Manhattan clam chowder tastes like the prefab soup at Organic To Go.

Saving grace Circa overlooks the Beverly Hilton pool; there, new umbrellas and chaise lounges will be enough.

Variety joins the Fast Food Nation

This is not Restaurant #8. It is the runner up in a press release contest I didn't know I was holding.

That's a promotional burger sent to the Variety offices. A burger that, at first glance, appears to be made of plaster of Paris, maybe Styrofoam, but feels disturbingly both spongy and stale. It also has the vaguely bubble-gum fruity fragrance I associate with pillowcases after they've been filled on Halloween.

In other words, it's a candy hamburger. One that arrived whole, but investigative  instincts got the best of fellow Variety editor and Eating L.A. blogger Pat Saperstein. 

Truth In Restaurant Advertising

The best press release I'll get this week comes from VelvetPR, which is flacking Mischa Barton and David Katzenberg's V-Day dinner at Sur Restaurant:

"Sur Restaurant is the proud neighbor of the elitist Chrome Hearts and Maxfield, Sur Restaurant is located at 606 N Robertson Blvd."

Robertson Boulevard: Where the elitist meet.

Tart at Farmer's Daughter Hotel

NINE NEW RESTAURANTS, IN REVERSE ORDER OF PREFERENCE

#9: Tart

I know it doesn't look it, but Tart is a mess.

And it's a missed opportunity. It's part of the skank-to-swank Farmer's Daughter Hotel, which is like a funkier version of the Avalon (which had its own semi-sordid past as a retirement home).

But with the restaurant, I don't know what happened.

The Knife is temporarily dulled

The Knife is, unfortunately, in Chicago until tomorrow night - where I will not be eating at any place worth blogging about. (Trust me on this.) Posting returns Wednesday.

Public Service Announcement: My Darling Clementine

This is a picture* of a mandarin orange, otherwise known as a clementine. It has no other association with this post besides the obvious name connection. That is because I have a new job at Variety and it's Friday, leaving me too tired to find more relevant art. Enjoy.
*Art courtesy the fine London food blog Jamfaced.

Ending CAA week on a high note: Clementine is in the neighborhood. And it rocks, as long as you don't intend to stay.

This is what you can expect to find: Excellent tuna and chicken salads. Warm brisket sandwich came with horseradish creme fraiche and real au jus (too many places serve brown salty water). I love the cauliflower salad with anchovy dressing (that may be just me); they also have roasted beets, soba noodles, Chinese broccoli with shiitakes, etc. Real soup. It's the city's best picnic resource, with solid, sensible takeout containers that are big enough to contain a full portion (I hate it when containers are chintzy), stack and don't leak.

Clementine is also a closet.

Public Service Announcement: The Knife ser-Rates Breeze at Century Plaza Hyatt

CAA's new offices and the newish Hyatt Regency Century Plaza (much-needed renovation: 2001) are across the street from each other, on the Avenue of the Stars. There's even a certain symmetry to the two buildings (although, of course, CAA's is prettier).

CAA needs a place to eat; Century Plaza wants to feed them. Wouldn't it be great if they fell in love?

As with any romance, there are roadblocks: As owner of LA's largest ballroom, the Hyatt is ruled by lanyard-wearers. Last night, their laminated badges read CIC 2007, otherwise known as the Concert Industry Consortium. The annual conference absorbed every single one of the Hyatt's 726 rooms and those of the Hotel InterContinental down the street.

How often do you see lanyards at the Peninsula? Or the Four Seasons?

Still, love the one you're with. Hyatt houses Breeze, which sounds kind of nice in the Open Table description: "terrazzo floor... bamboo leaves in glass dangling above the sushi bar... outdoor dining and spectacular views of the hotel’s lush gardens... striking green onyx bar... sushi bar headed by fourth-generation master Sushi Chef Tanaka. Two private dining rooms are also available." 

Terrazzo! Onyx! Sushi!

I have no idea who Chef Tanaka is (in Japan, that's as common as "Jones"), but the sushi was fine. There's nothing unusual -- tuna, toro, salmon, sweet shrimp, the inevitable Dynamite and California rolls -- but it's fresh and made to order. And when they only had enough toro to make one piece of sushi, they replaced it with two pieces of tuna.

Nice. Yay! Sushi for CAA!

If you like happy endings, please stop reading now.

Public Service Announcement: La Cachette

La Cachette: The first in a series of Century City restaurant reviews
designed to make life at CAA a better place for both hungry agents
and their weary, lunch-booking assistants.

Good news: Lunch at La Cachette is a lot like lunch at the Peninsula, only with better service.
Bad news: You may give up on finding the place before you can try it.

Not that I've ever had a problem with Peninsula service, but the hotel has always been very aware of its place in the hierarchy which was, until recently, across the street from CAA. They've been trained to recognize agents (and their guests) and react accordingly. (How do you train a staff in agency recognition? Flash cards?)

At La Cachette, I don't think anyone has installed a Kevin Huvane mugshot at the hostess stand... yet. For now, they're treating everyone well.

Table for one? Right this way, to the banquette. Two appetizers? Very good, although he'd recommend the duck pate before the salade Nicoise. ("It's better that way.") Ask for water and they pour... water, sparing you the whole flat-or-sparkling-I'll-have-tap ritual. (Does anyone really need a prompt to be reminded about the existence of bottled water?)

Homemade duck pate was lovely. Nicoise was very fresh and a tart pomegranate vinaigrette didn't take it off the rails. The baguettes were a little lame -- warm 6-inch flutes, but they're the bland, par-baked things you buy by the gross. And breaking off a piece inevitably creates a crumb-showered tablecloth. (Having said that, the bread comes with a ramekin of delicious tapenade with the deep-ink color, salt and sheen of caviar. Go figure.)

Of course, La Cachette still must contend with being a French restaurant, something that the menu deals with up front: "Light and delicious New French Cuisine." There's a vegan soup of the day and the crab bisque is "lightly creamed" only "upon request." There's escargot and Danish herring, but the roasted red beet tower is available vegan, without the feta. Grilled swordfish, lightly smoked salmon and Maine scallops come with lots of good-sounding things (fresh fennel savoy sauerkraut, harissa-lobster emulsion), but a restaurant that doesn't presume cream in a bisque isn't going to blink at anyone who wants green beans instead of sauerkraut. 

At lunch on Monday, the 100-seat dining room was about 50% filled. "We've definitely seen an increase since CAA moved to Century City," the hostess told me, smiling. "It's really nice."

Less nice, however, is getting there.