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My favorite corned beef hash in the world is served in this swank businessman's grill in Beverly Hills, sniffing distance from the Fred Hayman perfume outlet and around the corner from the weird, cobbled boutique mall that locals refer to as Eurotrash-Disney. The ceilings are high, the wood dark, the linen heavy, the martinis clear and cold and dry. The dining room is washed in a pale, masculine light that seems imported from some century-old restaurant in New Orleans, and the white-jacketed waiters call you sir, even if you are wearing sneakers. This is, in other words, a serious place to have lunch, the kind of place where the Beverly Hills Rotary might hold its meetings if the Rotary had a chapter for aspiring billionaires. The steaks are good, and the steak tartare is sublime. You will also find this town's essential rice pudding: touched with cinnamon, drizzled with heavy cream, coaxing the nutty, rounded essence out of every grain of rice. Free street parking before 6 p.m.
Dear Mr. Gold: Every year my boyfriend and I bet on the Oscar results ... loser takes the winner to the brunch of his or her choice. This year I won big and I want to choose a brunch with amazing food in a wonderful setting. Price is no... More »
Dear Mr. Gold:I need your help. In my experience, a good number of restaurants play music that is too loud to allow one to converse while dining, let alone savor the food. I have a number of times asked to have the music turned down, or at least... More »
Shrimp Louie, a goopy seafood salad dressed with a pinkly sweet mixture of mayonnaise and sugary bottled chile sauce, was the height of chic before World War I, a big-city dish served in every restaurant of distinction between Seattle and San Diego. James Beard used to insist that shrimp Louie originated in his hometown of Portland; food historians suspect it first appeared in San Francisco. When I was a kid, I used to crave the Louie at the S.S. Princess Louise, a restaurant fitted into an old passenger ship docked in San Pedro, although it was still served then at about half the serious restaurants in town. Though it still appears now and then at old-fashioned coffee shops, the dish is basically as extinct as mock chicken or finnan haddie. There is still shrimp Louie, a pretty good one, preserved alongside jellied consommé, avocado cocktail and other curiosities of the '20s California kitchen, on the menu of the Musso & Frank Grill. But the expensive Louie at the Grill on the Alley is actually delicious, made with first-class prawns and dosed with a resolute jolt of chile, an old-fashioned salad retrofitted for a new century. If you come at the right time of year, you can have your Louie made with freshly picked Dungeness crabmeat instead.—Jonathan Gold
One of our main restaurants in our rotation. Solid, fresh food. They always get us in even if we call at 6pm for an 8pm reservation. Packed, with a distinctly older crowd. When we get there we always get the sense that they are going to give us crayons and a coloring mat while they set our table. Definitely worth seeking out places that make you feel like a child again.
Shrimp Louie, a goopy seafood salad dressed with a pinkly sweet mixture of mayonnaise and sugary bottled chile sauce, was the height of chic before World War I, a big-city dish served in every restaurant of distinction between Seattle and San Diego. James Beard used to insist that shrimp Louie originated in his hometown of Portland; food historians suspect it first appeared in San Francisco. When I was a kid, I used to crave the Louie at the S.S. Princess Louise, a restaurant fitted into an... More »
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