Simon Majumdar

Typically—for me, at least—the Italian port city of Bari just summons thoughts of its perennially underachieving soccer team. However, thanks to this rather enjoyable new restaurant bearing that name, I’m likely to turn towards thinking about the comforting, underrated regional cuisine from the capital of Italy’s heel. Chef Chad Colby’s time in charge of the kitchen at Mozza sibling Chi Spacca and at his own restaurant, Antico, proved his skill at preparing food from across Italy. At Bari, he splits his menu into 10 sections. Each gives a shout out to the fried snacks, breads, semolina-based pasta and grilled meats and fish so beloved in his favorite Italian region of Apulia. Taralli fennel crackers and burrata cheese come served with anchovies and breadcrumbs. A panzerotti di pasquale presents the classic snack with a filling of tomatoes and mozzarella in a rustically crimped fried golden dough. The paparrachielli al tonno, or small-pickled cherry peppers stuffed with tuna, reminds one of the delightful jarred snack that you can buy in most Italian supermarkets.  Perhaps Bari’s only disappointment were the fave e chicoria, a deeply savory puree of fava beans with a chicory topping whose overwhelming level of acidity would have made Joan Rivers blush. My wife and I were restored to the correct path with a perfect version of another Apulian standard, orecchiette cime di rape, a toothsome little ear semolina dough pasta with broccoli rabe and a hit of anchovy and chili.  Then c

Lines were already beginning to form at Lasita when we arrived. In part this is down to the huge goodwill engendered by its former iteration, Lasa, which, during its time was considered one of the best Filipino restaurants in Los Angeles. And in part it’s because in the short while Lasita has been open, it’s already become popular in its own right—albeit a work in progress. The chefs have sensibly based their menu around two popular Filipino food staples, the chicken inasal (rotisserie chicken, marinated in spices, calamansi juice and annatto for the signature coloring) and pork belly lechon (the dish by which most Filipino restaurants are judged). These are available à la carte in whole or half sizes, and by the plate with suitable accompaniments of rice, pickles, garlic mojo and a sauce of soy and calamansi juice.  Coming from someone who has been fed a lot of lechon by his Filipino in-laws over the years, the lechon was easily my favorite. The flesh retained its juiciness and the skin was as crunchy as any crunchaholic could ask for. A pound of lechon served like a rolled porchetta with some of the top-notch garlic rice, garlic mojo and a large bucket of the spectacular atchara (pickles) that accompanied it on the plate would have been five stars and done. However, the half inasal chicken, while the perfect color (from the annatto) and with a gloriously tangy skin from the marinade, had dried out underneath its covering. Also, the chicken fat rice that supported it on the

A drive to Long Beach—whether down the block or across the basin—is definitely worth the effort for some of the best traditional Filipino food I have eaten in a long time. Everything comes just as you hoped it would. Pinakbet, the Filipino version of ratatouille, is served with an unapologetic amount of bagoong (fermented fish paste). Chicharon bulaklak, fried bits of pork offal, is crisp and comes with a spicy vinegar of just the right heat. The broth of the sinigang (soup) is lip-smackingly sour. I could very easily live here.

Salo Salo has long been one of my favorite traditional Filipino food havens. (And for disclosure, I did once spend some time in the kitchen there picking up recipes and techniques.) Everything they do there in terms of preparation is textbook. The appetizer of assorted lumpia, the “escabeche isda” (fish escabeche), the combination plates of skewers, the bagoóng fried rice (fried rice with fermented fish paste): There are few moments during a meal to do anything but nod in approval.

If I didn’t include a bakery in my list of the best Filipino places to eat in Los Angeles, I suspect I’d lose my “Filipino by marriage” license. Gemmae Bake Shop is simply one of the best—so good that I am under strict “pain of death” instructions not to touch both the Nutella and ube pandesal (Nutella and purple yam bread, respectively) we brought back from there. Fortunately, there are plenty of other less pain-threatening items on the menu, such as the hopia mongo (puff pastry filled with sweetened mung beans) and the classic bibingka (baked sweet rice cake).

For a 95-year-old restaurant and bar, West Hollywood’s Formosa Café is receiving a huge amount of new attention. In part, that’s due to the stunning reclamation of its former glories by the 1933 Group (they of Highland Park Bowl, Thirsty Crow and Idle Hour fame), and in part, it’s also because Angelenos have an intrinsic appreciation of old-school haunts—particularly those that’ve played host to some of the key names in Hollywood’s golden age. I wouldn’t be surprised if unearthed reservation books contained names such as Brando, Monroe, Sinatra, Wayne and Beatty, and it shouldn’t surprise anyone that the Formosa Café embodies that golden glow. Against such a backdrop of A-list celebrity and its stunning renovation—which reportedly cost around $2.5 million and months of painstaking archive research to get things right—it would be easy for the food to become little more than a bit part player. However, with the new American-Chinese and Taiwanese menu from chef David Kuo of the much-admired Little Fatty, it offers far more than a simple something to chew on while you admire all the signed headshots on the wall. The small menu contains many of Little Fatty’s signature dishes, all of which arrive readily from the kitchen. It’s split into dishes to share; dim sum; rice and noodles; and two desserts. Of the shared dishes, the braised pork belly ($20) was well received, but, it was the orange chicken ($16) and kung pao chicken ($15) that received most of the plaudits, particularly th

The menu at Chad Colby’s new rustic, open-hearth Italian restaurant may not offer anything quite so dramatic as the beef and bone marrow pie of my dreams at the chef’s former kitchen—Nancy Silverton’s chi SPACCA—but over multiple visits to Antico, we found enough hallmarks of Colby’s cooking to make us understand why his new spot’s been a hit since its launch. One of those elements included the antipasti ($9 per person) which shows Colby at his best with gently grilled zucchini; house-cured salami; slivers of salty anchovy; and deeply creamy ricotta on crisp toast—notionally simple to make, decidedly hard to make well. Salads were more straightforward. A garden salad ($12) is a hard dish to mess up. Antico almost did. The simple salad with added sungold tomatoes just rang of good shopping, and they followed the current and rather tiring trend of dressing the leaves with enough acid to make your teeth dissolve. Burrata ($14) is ubiquitous in Los Angeles, but with the addition of seasonal ingredients and crunch—breadcrumbs in summer, pepitas in autumn—it takes on a welcome textural dimension. Oddly, given Colby’s provenance, the least appealing dishes were the pastas; they were by no means poor, but L.A. is experiencing a moment in the sun when it comes to matters noodular, and the pasta at Antico felt very much in the shade. Of those we sampled from the short selection, the ziti with tripe ragu and parmesan ($22) was the most successful: The deeply rich sauce found its way int

A decade-old Brooklyn favorite just opened its first West Coast outpost, and yet, despite its newness, there’s something wearyingly familiar about what’s on offer at Five Leaves L.A.  It’s a menu that looks like it’s been put together by a computer fed information about mid-level dining in Los Angeles, and then prompted to splurge out an identikit roster of dishes: some avocado toast here, a crudo there, a token pasta dish or two, some salads and a protein from a named source. Ho and, indeed, hum.  However, it’s not all grim. If you do find yourself in East Hollywood and step into our Five Leaves, you’ll notice that the room is a lovely, bright, open space decorated in Art Deco style. The service is chirpy and efficient, and the food is competently done, if having some noticeable flaws.  The menu’s originality doesn’t show much gumption, but there’s at least a sense that the chefs are putting in a bit of extra effort behind the scenes. The house-made ricotta ($15) was soft and creamy, and came served with some excellent raisin bread purchased from a local bakery. The Arctic char gravlax ($15) gets cured in-house to a perfect texture that works well with its garnishes of beet-cured egg, caper cream cheese and slices of marble rye. The burger (a hefty $17, plus $4 for bacon and gruyere) gets made with excellent grass-fed beef. The crispy chicken sandwich ($14), on the other hand, was crispy as advertised but overloaded with too much wet slaw, making the whole thing dissolve bet

Margot’s location—high on the rooftop of Culver City’s Platform complex—may be the restaurant’s main draw, but it’s pleasing to see that one can get a pretty decent meal here, too.  Chef Michael Williams’s menu doesn’t exactly reach for the stars in terms of ambition, but with a few exceptions, it’s suitably targeted at its trendy clientele and mostly succeeds in providing well-executed and well-sourced dishes to sizeable crowds. Of our two visits, brunch proved to be the most enjoyable; I can’t think of many better spots in town for spending a few pleasant hours day-drinking with friends. But the food is good, too. A crudo of kampachi with pickled mustard seed, horseradish and dill ($19) was balanced with enough accompaniments to complement, rather than overpower, the fattiness of the fish. The wild arugula salad with hazelnut vinaigrette, baby beets, citrus and manchego ($16) was a highlight, with the pepperiness of the arugula working well with the texture of the hazelnuts and the saltiness of the Spanish sheep’s cheese.   The larger brunch courses more or less center around the classics, but show a care and attention that often gets missed in this underrated meal: Fried chicken with Calabrian honey ($24) had a perfect coating and demanded to be dipped into the small dish of heat-and-sweet honey. Porchetta Benedict ($17) was a fun play on a traditional dish, but I wish the pork had retained a bit of cracklin’ to give texture to what was otherwise an all-soft dish. The Amer

The misguided belief that museum restaurants serve little purpose beyond feeding a captive audience here to look at things pretty and artful is, thankfully, on the wane. Unfortunately, Audrey at the Hammer didn’t seem to get the memo.  The menu emphasizes “European flavors”—I’m never quite sure what that means, as Europe is a sizeable place and the food of southern Portugal, for example, has precious little to do with the food of, say, Latvia. In the case of the Hammer’s new courtyard restaurant, what it means is a vague stab at Spain and Italy with a nod to some of the terrific ingredients on offer here in California.  All of this would be fine if the dishes were prepared with  aplomb, but at Audrey, they are not. Over two visits we experienced food that lurched from competent but unforgivably crude to plates that were prepared ineptly enough to be pushed aside on a budget airline flight. Our first and best bite, a Sardinian-style carta di musica cracker ($10), came topped with Spanish bottarga, flecks of Persian limes and chives; the saltiness of the fish roe worked well with pre-dinner drinks. However, after that, the decline began. Of the lighter courses, the fish in a Baja kampachi crudo ($19) took on a rather grainy texture, and any subtle flavors of the amberjack was lost beneath a dressing of kiwi, fermented chili oil and an overly acidic lemongrass vinaigrette. A white bean hummus ($11) suffered, too, beneath a slick of bitter “herb jam.” The salads—an endive salad w

By now, even fine dining traditionalists have come to terms with the fact that we live in a world of small plates and clothless tabletops. While all this is fine and dandy, part of me still craves some of the thoughtful technique—if not some of the overly formal stuffiness—of fine dining’s yesteryear. It’s one reason I was fascinated to hear of Auburn, the new tasting-menu restaurant by chef Eric Bost, whose food I’ve loved at République and whose past includes stints with Guy Savoy and Alain Ducasse. His menu at Auburn is set out quite differently from anywhere else in the city: There are 12 dishes on offer—of which three are desserts—and each diner can construct their own four-course ($85), six-course ($115) or nine-course ($160) meal with optional wine pairings ($50-$120); over our two visits, we sampled every one of the 12 courses on offer (and some dishes multiple times). The meals began well enough, with the arrival of one of the best loaves of bread I’ve eaten recently: made with rye flour and soaked buckwheat and served with an exceptional avocado butter topped with an oil of fine herbs. Then came the three amuse-bouches, which did exactly the job they are supposed to do: They woke up the palate with texture, salt and acid. A deep-fried pork ear crackled on the tongue with its salt and vinegar coating, while a delicate sweet-onion and peas tart felt like a nod to Bost’s time with Ducasse; best of all was a beet-and-buckwheat galette, which came topped with a salty sli

For a restaurant that just hit the tarmac, Alameda Supper Club is already operating like a well-oiled machine. There’s little surprise there, given the team and ambition that led to the creation of the Manufactory, the ROW’s culinary complex in which this restaurant sits: Elisabeth Pruett and Chad Roberston of San Francisco’s Tartine, paired with Chris Bianco of Phoenix’s legendary Pizzeria Bianco, have created a space that, while cavernous, is immediately inviting—and already proving to be a popular and dependable destination. That dependability can be seen in Alameda Supper Club’s short menu, too. With a few exceptions, the food was more than competently prepared, and the ingredients were obviously sourced from terrific suppliers. However, apart from an Italian nod, this particular restaurant’s dishes don’t seem to have much of a viewpoint and operate at a “let’s not frighten granny” level of excitement.  The cheddar and smoked ham toast ($7) is already becoming an Instagram favorite, and I can understand why: It’s a fun upgrade of a grilled cheese sandwich, and was certainly more successful than our other starter, a rather dull bowl of pork crackling ($6) that had been overdosed with smoked paprika. Of the small plates, the market charcuterie ($18) was enjoyable enough but should be filed under the “bought and sliced” category, but a salad of coraline endive with rye croutons, Colston Bassett cheese and a roasted-shallot vinaigrette ($14) proved that the kitchen can take s

Fortunately, even the health fiends of L.A. are getting over the notion that carbs equal death. One of the newer and most exciting aspects of dining out in the city is the growing tally of creative takes on gluten. To celebrate, here are a few of the best bread bites in L.A. Because even when thoughts turn to beach bods and bathing suits, there’s no harm in indulging in a slice or three of these standout carb creations. Elotes Milk Breads at 189 By Dominique Ansel The food at Dominique Ansel’s restaurant at the Grove can be hit-or-miss, but given his provenance as a baker, it’s no surprise the bread is off the charts. The sourdough is worth ordering, but these soft milk breads, which come stuffed with a roasted–sweet-corn (elotes) pudding and topped with cotija, are a Los Angeles must. $10. Photograph: Jesse Hsu Sfincione at Felix Felix may be lauded for its pasta, but Evan Funke’s sublime focaccia is worth its own praise—and will make anyone realize just what a special meal they’re about to experience. The bread’s crisp outer casing, with a thin sheen of olive oil that’s laced with a sprinkle of salt and rosemary, gives way to an inside so soft and fluffy, it could have its own children’s TV show. $8. Photograph: Jesse Hsu Sun Buns at Hearth & Hound Despite the menu’s ambiguity at April Bloomfield’s newish restaurant—the words Sun Buns are followed by no further description—just know that a plate of them will immediately win you over. The warm, nutty and yielding dinner