I’m not sure that I could have written this review a few years ago. To understand the difference between a good meal and a great meal requires having had enough great meals at great establishments to work up an operating language. I worked in a video store for half a decade and I’ve seen probably over 10,000 movies in my lifetime. I’ve got a pretty good command of film language. I’ve been reading and writing for over thirty years, so I’ve probably got a working vocabulary well into the five digit range. After about a half decade of eating well at enough varied locations, I think I’m in a pretty good position to make judgments about quality and experience. Patina is the crown jewel in the Splichal Patina Group empire, and there are cracks in the gem. I assure you, this is one of L.A.’s best restaurants, but it is missing an essential component. It is a refined, elegant room with an incredibly friendly and attentive staff. The waiters and busboys operate smoothly, functioning as a team to cater to your experience. The Sommelier is gregarious, knowledgeable, and knows his wine list has something for every taste. Ingredients are of outstanding quality, there is no question these are market fresh vegetables, top choice meats, and the best fish from the finest fisheries. But somehow, each of the dishes, while having excellent flavor and precision, were missing the pizzaz one looks for when dining in a world-class building, built for a stellar orchestra, in a city known for favoring the bold over the cautious. The Tahitian vanilla underneath the heirloom tomatoes was interesting, the black bass over beets and ginger was a fine combination of flavors, and my truffle risotto, grated fresh at table, was a rare treat. But each dish felt almost Germanic in its structure, and monochromatic in range. It’s hard to fault a restaurant for its lack of daring. But when we’re talking about a restaurant that has a monopoly lock on L.A.’s art landmarks it ought to be as daring as the work inside. The truth is that the art in L.A.’s landmark museums isn’t as good as what’s happening on the street, and the food probably reflects that very same reality. If you have people coming into town looking for a fine dining experience, you won’t be disappointed at Patina. But it’s rather like MOCA’s definition of “conteporary art”, which happens to stop at 1970. A highlight of the meal was the cheese wagon and the Japanese fromagier who customized two cheese plates ranging from mild and smooth to “fasten your seat belts” rough and rangy. The rough and rangy was a sheep/cow/goat monstrosity that burned the tongue and sent stinky fumes from our mouths in a wild blast. The truffle cheese was by far the best I’ve had, mellow and perfectly infused. But the duo of triple-washed rinds had me blissing out and rolling my eyes. For $21 a plate, they provided more and better cheese than the $25 plate at Ford’s Filling Station, so that’s a huge plus in Patina’s favor. In short, Patina is very, very expensive and very, very safe for elegant dining. But if you’re looking for flair, this ain’t it.For the price and complexity of the experience, I desperately wanted to have my socks knocked off.

(213) 972-3331, 141 South Grand Ave, Los Angeles

They claim that the Pantry has been open nonstop and without a customer for over 75 years. This isn’t true. They were shut down a few years ago for a day when the health department was appalled by what they found. Ironic, Richard Riordan owns a majority stake in this L.A. landmark and even he couldn’t prevent the shutdown. Opening a day later, having scraped the yellow off the ceiling and moved the trash bins away from the griller, the Pantry is one of Los Angeles’s best institutions. A strong, believable rumor has it that the waiters are all ex-cons. This may or not be true, but they’ve all been there for decades. Lifer waiters are hard to find. But this place is the tops for a great diner steak. Go for breakfast and load up with pancakes, eggs, and bacon. With a grill that’s been going nonstop for so long, everything is saturated with a rich, savory flavor. It’s a dive, a greasy spoon, and it’s perfect. Your typical dinner starts with homemade sourdough bread and coleslaw made from scratch. Dinner comes with the vegetable of the day and a side of glorious potatoes. They do other dishes, but who wants stroganoff when you can have steak for $13?

877 S Figueroa, downtown Los Angeles

Ohäam is the easy Persian dining experience you want. Less expensive and just as good as Javan or Shimshiri, Ohäam is a strip mall joint that could only exist by serving quality food at decent prices. And they deliver! A great selection of kebobs in beef, chicken, lamb, and fish versions as well as a goodly choice of entrees. Under “exotic rices” you’ll find an exciting set of dark meat chicken served with either cherry rice, buttered orange peels and almonds, or saffron and lima beans. Two can eat well for under forty bucks

(310) 444-0088, 11033 Santa Monica Blvd, Los Angeles

The section of the west side of Los Angeles that runs from the 405 to Bundy along Santa Monica Blvd is a coveted neighborhood jammed with apartment farms. Most of the modest fourplex and sixplex apartments are owned by Japanese families who survived being put into internment camps and were lucky to retain their property while others had it stolen by their duplicitous round-eye neighbors. The newer buildings are monoliths controlled by faceless property managers (spiritual descendents of the same thieving round-eyes) who raise the rent monthly, which is why a one bedroom apartment in one of these call-box monstrosities goes for almost two thousand dollars a month. The people who are lucky enough to get a unit in one of the Japanese owned buildings can still afford to pay $10 for brown rice and vegetables, or $8 for macaroni and cheese (oh, sorry, with manchego and gruyere). That is to say, this is comfort food dressed up and jacked up for the neighborhood. My $10 cheeseburger was very good, but serving it on focaccia just smacks of pretension. I don’t need focaccia. That shit is square and a burger is round. Even Wendy’s knows that. You want to earn the $10? Make a square fucking burger or learn to use a glass cup to cut bread.

11628 Santa Monica Blvd #9, westside, Los Angeles

There’s a joke that UCLA stands for University of Caucasians Lost among Asians. Noodle Planet exists to answer the racist assumption that white people can’t tell those Asians apart. Serving Thai, Vietnamese, Cambodian, Chinese, and some Japanese noodle dishes and entrees, Noodle Planet is really good for being so young and hip. I’ve become addicted to their giant bowl of Tom Yum Ka, a spicy coconut milk and lemon grass soup with chicken (or seafood) and a chunk of rice noodles at the bottom. Their glass noodles and other Thai entrees also kick butt. Also, you can get tofu to replace any meat! Unfortunately, cash only, kids. Two people can get very full on twenty bucks.

1118 Westwood Blvd, Westwood Village

Jews were screwed when fast food came along and threw cheese on top of everything. Not only is processed burger and chicken meat wholly unkosher, it’s also modified the country’s palette to accept the washed out flavor of the meat as being the norm. Nathan’s is a kosher fast food joint that prepares tasty food to feed your crappetite prepared under Rabbinical supervision. Just like the rest of the fast food universe no language skills are required to order – big pictures above the cash registers of corn dogs, chicken burgers, and hamburgers are there to assist your ordering. Sullen Hassidic teens (or slave labor from the Chabad mines) work the till. Even a corner sink in the back to lave before you knosh. Besides owning the goy Kenny Rodger’s Roasters chain, Nathan’s also owns my favorite fast food restaurant from when I was a wee bairn in suburban Baltimore: Arthur Treacher’s Fish & Chips! It appears that Arthur Treacher’s exists only as a brand; no more of his fish shops grace the earth.

9216 W Pico Blvd

Nate N’ Al’s has been a Beverly Hills fixture for generations of loitering Jews. They make their own pastrami, pickle their own tongue, and the prices are shockingly sane given the stratospheric rates of shitholes like Jerry’s. While the best pastrami award goes to Langers, Nate N’ Al’s still make a great sandwich. Their chicken soup is incredibly hearty and satisfying, more so than Canter’s. It annoys me that their dessert selection is meager; I need poppy seed strudel after a Ruben more than floss. Dinner for two will run you about $25.

(310) 274-0101, 414 N Beverly Drive, Beverly Hills

Serving decent slow cooked ribs Mr. Cecil’s is a good enough place to get sit-down bbq. The ribs are small, and when I asked the waitress said that it was from the “upper meat”, St. Louis style. I know when I’m being shined on and the ribs were f’ing small. They’re served dry, as many people like so you can add your own sauce. Both the sauce and the food were forgettable – passable for bbq but not memorable to crave it again. Still, it’s one of the few sit-down restaurants serving authentic bbq in town where you can seat a large party and get messy together.

(310) 442-1550, 12244 W Pico Blvd, Los Angeles
(818) 905-8400, 13625 Ventura Blvd, Sherman Oaks

Milk is a well-lit ice cream parlor that also serves glorious concoctions of ice cream products which will fatten you up like a retired quarterback. Cookies and cream coated ice cream bars, dulce de leche and banana ice cream cake, muffins, pastries and more. Their ice cream is more milky than creamy, without the gag quotient in Cold Stone or others. Their milkshakes bring all the boys in the yard, and damn right, it’s better than yours.

(323) 939-6455, 8209 W 3rd St., Los Angeles