My wife and I were married at the Harbor House in Marina del Rey. We’ve gone back to celebrate our anniversary, paying too much for mediocre food but reminiscing at what a fabulous wedding we had. We’d order scallops and steak and maybe a martini or two, talk about what the last year has meant for us, and how we’ve grown together as people and a couple. Now that it’s gone, we needed a new place. Akasha’s proximity to home, beautifully designed interior, and exciting menu seemed like a good fit. My wife got reservations via OpenTable.com (sooner than the 6 week wait we’d heard about), and when I stopped in two weeks before our reservation I mentioned it was our three year wedding anniversary to the host who noted that in his computer. The previous restaurant was an Italian piano bar that avoided closure by tinting its windows to avoid discovery. The renovations were mysterious, masked by large wooden panels. From a distance one could clearly see they were gutting and updating the location with high ceilings and serious interior design work. We knew nothing about Akasha herself, or that the restaurant’s renovation was part of TLC’s Flip this Restaurant. After three years of marriage we’re now just dumb local yokels looking for a nice dinner. Dumb yokels who know what a dining experience ought to be and an axe to grind when it’s sloppy. We were greeted with an enthusiastic welcome and a congratulations on our anniversary. That was sweet. The waiter then added his kind congrats as well. We looked over the menu and gave our entire order at once – martini for the wife, glass of red for me, tumuric seared pear salad with goji berries and chevre, shiitake, roasted squash, and basil pizza as appetizers; Punjabi mung bean bowl and wild pepper scallops entrees. Nice waiter, lovely interior, great wine list and decent prices for all items. Well, mostly lovely interior. The chairs are the leather-strap variety your sleazy uncle had in his apartment in 1984. The pear salad comes out – five minutes after we ordered. No wine. No cocktail. Then the pizza shortly after, simultaneous with the wine and cocktail. I’m annoyed. There’s an order to a meal, and this isn’t it. Fine. We roll with it. The pear salad is stunningly mediocre. Pears aren’t in season and there was maybe three slices of it. I felt like Wody Allen, “the food here is terrible – and such small portions!” Four small bits of chevre and a truckload of arugala. Salad is the Styrofoam packing of the food world and there was enough of it here to ship the chandeliers back to whatever Chinese factory that knocks off Frank Gehry furniture made them. The pizza isn’t really a pizza, it’s a failed foccacia with stuff on it. My wife loved her cocktail, the Emerald City, and my 2005 “Prisoner” red was spectacular. But as we’re enjoying our drinks out of sync with our meal, our waiter comes over and tells us he’s handing us over to another. Not a trainee, just another waiter. OK. New guy is nice enough. But a handoff? “Happy anniversary.” Thanks. Entrees are served – there’s still salad in the bowl and a slice of pizza on the plate. Expediter asks, “do you want me to hold the entre?” No, idiot, I want you to know better than to ask. What’s the deal here, Akasha? You woo me in with your hubbub and then you hustle me through with organic grease? I understand if you’ve got tables to turn but this is ridiculous. We send back what’s left of the styrofoam (having eaten the pear and chevre in the first two bites) and accept the entrees. I’ll take them hot from the kitchen rather than warmed over and held, thank you. The scallops were outstanding and the mung bean bowl was delicious – there is no denying them that. We took our time with them, and had to ward off the busboys from taking them away. Dessert was nice, too, the salty chocolate tart was the right balance of sweet and salty. Coffee was the expected fair-trade hippie garbage. We were given our bill with another sincere congratulations on our wedding anniversary. To be fair, I don’t expect a complimentary dessert, but when the staff is falling over themselves to both acknowledge my special day and get me the hell out of their restaurant I was thinking maybe a mint and a kiss. Nope. The bill before tip was $104. Whatever. It was the next day we found out that a friend had left his credit card to pay for our coffee and dessert. That never made its way to the bill. I would have forgiven the weak appetizers if we didn’t feel like we were being pushed out the door. But because of the shoddy service (even though our waiters were kind, they weren’t expediting) I’m docking two stars. One for the appetizers and another for the mangling of the experience. And it wasn’t like they didn’t know it was a special occasion – they took every opportunity to remind us that they were screwing up our night. So, Akasha, now that you’re booked six weeks out and your TV show has aired how about you fix the thing?
9543 Culver Blvd, Culver City, (310) 845-1700