Having said all that, there's a bit of subversive glee in being the riff-raff who infiltrates the beautiful people's party. And Lesley was positively gushing over the place during 11 in 11, and her opinion holds some clout for me. And Chef Jose Andrés is kind of a big deal. Regardless of the scene, the food in this place, in all its bizarre innovation, is touted to be out of this world. So, what can I say? I was curious. (And then, of course, Miss Irene goes and gives the place four stars in yesterday's LA Times. Curious, and as of yesterday, even more excited.)
So, was The Bazaar ostentatious? Probably. Over the top? Definitely. Did I love it? Absolutely.
You just get caught up in the whimsy as soon as you walk in and are confronted with the surreal Bar Centro. Imagine Alice in Wonderland meets TMZ. Visual stimulation is overwhelming, from portraits projected on walls that slowly turn from man to monkey, to giant chandeliers tilted to the side as if swept by a rogue gust of wind. Strange and beautiful people lounge across mismatched chairs, sipping a martini with a sphericized 'olive' at the bottom. One side of the vast space devoted to the restaurant is a Moss museum-cum-shop: lots of strange and modern tchochkes on display that at least lend some self-awareness to the unique Hollywood culture that made this place.
As soon as we walked to our table in the Rojo area, though, the vibe changed. More understated, Rojo feels like the most stylish tapas bar plucked right out of Barcelona. Low ceilings amplify the chatter of the bustling full house, a bar on one wall serves out jamon, queso, y vino, and ebony woods, red accents, and chalkboards with funky bull drawings give the place a very slick feel. (There's also a Blanca dining room, which, oddly, is supposed to be the modern contrast to this traditional one. With its pale furnishings and soft light, it seemed more like the seniors' corner to me.)
The menu is all tapas, combining traditional Spanish standbys with lighter modern takes on the course, the latter allowing the chef to bring in chemistry and get a little weird. Our party managed to marathon through 14 different items, and for the most part, each was beautifully prepared and distinct. There were small, produce-based options, like the delicate roasted cippolini onions with clementines and sunflower seeds. There were Japanese turns, like the avocado tempura with ponzu air -- not at all greasy, green buttery goodness peeking through a near-transparent film of crisped batter; and the toro 'nigiri', a sheet of fatty tuna balanced with watermelon instead of rice, with jalapeno, fresh wasabi, and soy air. These airs and foams and things, they serve a purpose. In the lobster medallion dish, tradition met technology to create the best Spanish taste memory I've never had: the lush lobster was sweet with fruity olive oil, and the paprika foam on top was the perfect way to distribute the spice's strong but eminently Spanish smoky flavor. The lamb loin, topped with a truffle gelee and blanketed in potato foam, may have looked strange, but its flavors were pure comfort food: imagine the most tender filet (the lamb had hardly any gaminess) with mashed potatoes that were at once decadent and airy. Circus fanfare came in the form of a cart offering caviar in a cone and foie gras on a stick (wrapped in vanilla cotton candy, natch). (It was at this point that the sophisticated older couple at the table next to ours took our their cameras (well, her camera and his Blackberry), to start snapping pics of our food.)
As we were finishing our last courses, our waitress asked us if we'd like to enjoy our desserts in the Patisserie, the frilly pink pastry area next to the bar. We opted to stay in her care, and thoroughly enjoyed the warm chocolate mousse (such good chocolate) with pears, pear sorbet, and salted hazelnut praline plus two other delicious desserts, though we were well past full at this point.
afternoon tea in the Patisserie. Though, what I'd really love is to sit in the red room, with some red wine, excellent cheese, their lauded pa amb tomaquet, and a plate of their jamon iberico, perhaps going large with the bellota. Technology and spectacle be damned, I'm here for the food.
[Please enjoy the photographic stylings of my dining companion, Erin Ramos, here.]