Dining Reviews

Main Course: Brü Grill & Market

Gretchen Kurz — Mon, 25 Feb 2013 18:00:00 GMT

Yelp reviews are reliably capricious, but I do read my fair share and know how to quickly sift the shills from the sincere. It’s a cinch, really. But Lake Forest’s Brü Grill & Market had me stumped. For months, reactions whipsawed between disdain and delight.

Once executive chef Adam Deschambault, previously of Anaheim’s Bar Louie, outlasted the first two, Tripp Mauldin and Joseph Gotti, the warm-up period was over.

Now, after nearly a year, it’s time to check out this ambitious indie that dares to elbow in on the turf of nearby suburban darlings such as Lucille’s Smokehouse Bar-B-Que and Pei Wei Asian Diner. It’s a behemoth property—350 seats—and even after a retool it still bears a vague resemblance to its former life as a Carino’s, minus the red-and-white checked tablecloths. The massive bar with multiple communal tables is a shrine for worshippers of craft beers, pulled from 22 taps or ordered from a list of 118 bottles. Choose an interesting cocktail if brews don’t appeal; the crew here mixes a nifty one, be it classic or audacious.

All that fermentation demands a bodacious burger and the kitchen delivers big on that mandate. Freshly ground porterhouse, seared to medium rare, is the brawny base for umami-rich aged cheddar cheese and onions caramelized in ale. It’s a handful of juicy, bold ingredients that magically don’t disintegrate the artisan bun buttered with smoked pepper aioli. Also enticing is the trio of grilled ale-braised sausages: one brat, one Italian, and one feisty andouille, all crafted by Europa, a local artisan supplier of specialty links. Lively house-made sauerkraut, chunky potato salad, and three mustard dips make the combo platter a beer buff’s dream, though it’s yummy enough to flatter Diet Coke if booze isn’t your thing. You’ll leave a winner if you order nothing else but the sausage plate or the house burger. They easily outclass other fairly worthy bar food choices that include truly hot chicken wings, customized to your capsaicin tolerance, and an iron skillet brimming with Prince Edward Island mussels simmered in Cismontane ale brewed in Rancho Santa Margarita.

Tangy apples and a golden raisin gastrique give an original twist to the Bloomsdale spinach salad that’s hefty enough to handle a drizzle of blue cheese vinaigrette. It’s large enough to share, and too much food for one, paired with an entree. A virtuous diner would find it perfect for lunch. It’s a good match with fresh, oven-warm mini-
torpedoes of soft pretzel bread, sliced at a steep angle fit for dipping. Too bad the companion white cheese sauce is drippy and wan. Stick to the whole-grain mustard; its flavor better complements the malty bread.

The market portion of this venue is clearly a secondary concern. Many wines from Brü’s list, cheeses from their charcuterie offerings, and house-baked breads used in menu items make up most of the inventory. The uninspiring wine list severely limits options for oenophiles, but prices are fair and corkage is only $10. Still, it’s better to BYO good stuff and pay the fee. As the sweet but beleaguered waitress wages war with our bottle’s cork, it’s clear her real enemy is a flimsy, second-rate corkscrew. She borrows a legit cork-puller from the bar crew, then scurries to return it.

Beyond booze, bar food, and starters, success is intermittent. Brü breaks down and dry ages its beef, so I’m keen to try the grass-fed New York strip. First bites are a struggle, and a dull steak knife doesn’t help. The meat cools as we flag down the server (who readily admits this is her first solo night) for a replacement. A sharper knife isn’t the solution after all, not for this sinewy cut that lacks much chewable flesh. Red snapper, the night’s fresh seafood special, is pan-roasted with skin on, but a light cream sauce with slivers of fresh vegetables adds nothing. It has no trace of the sambal touted by the server. Just before the meal plummets into the abyss, the handsome, long-bone pork chop arrives. It’s near-perfect from judicious brining, and precise cooking finds the sweet spot between tender and dense, slicing easily into flavorful mouthfuls of porcine pleasure.

Sweet relief continues with a notable charcuterie platter that impresses despite a number of unavailable items. Still, the cheeses are distinctive and not overchilled, the meats freshly sliced superthin, and the condiments both sweet and savory, are properly striking. The delectable array makes me wish the steak and snapper never happened.

Pastry chef Ana Torres’ creations also warrant strong praise. Bread pudding with rum raisin sauce is moist and lighter than most, and her Brü Cake—flourless chocolate baked in a Mason jar—scores extra points with its nimbus of whisky-tweaked whipped cream. We’re lucky to have this Laguna Culinary Arts grad return after her stint at L.A.’s Water Grill.

If you adore beer or cocktails, you’re a step ahead at Brü. But every diner is at the mercy of a hit-or-miss kitchen. Gems await discovery, but it helps to be lucky or patient. Mine the menu well and you’re rewarded with enticing dishes that will lure you back for favorites. Fair warning though, Deschambault’s sudden departure at press time doesn’t suggest a less erratic kitchen. At least the menu’s winners remain, notwithstanding seasonal updates.

Best Dishes
Specialty cocktails, Brü Burger, sausage trio, spinach salad, braised mussels, long-bone pork chop, charcuterie, Brü Cake, bread pudding.

Price Range
Starters, share plates, and burger, $7 to $20; entrees, $18.50 to $36; desserts, $7.

FYI
The umlaut in Brü is a nod to beer’s Germanic heritage.

23730 El Toro Road, Lake Forest, 949-305-5757 brugrill.com

Two stars

Photograph by Priscilla Iezzi

This article originally appeared in the March 2013 issue.

Main Course: Dublin 4 Gastropub

Gretchen Kurz — Mon, 28 Jan 2013 19:00:00 GMT

Orange County’s Irish pubs tend toward the cliche: shots of Jameson, pints of Guinness, lardy chow, and a reliable dose of drunken cheer, or melancholy, depending on the crowd. The formula is past due for an upgrade—the kind you’ll find at Dublin 4.

Freeway-adjacent in Mission Viejo, the upstart gastropub hides in plain sight, squeezed into a small retail nook that includes its wine-bar sibling, Wineworks for Everyone. Blink and you’ll miss the driveway, but it’s well worth the U-turn to enter the convivial and civilized haven that awaits. An etched-glass partition funnels you into a dapper main room flanked by a 12-seat bar and a portrait gallery of iconic Irish authors, vividly rendered by artist Barrie Maguire. Regulars populate the bar while a blended crowd in the main room keeps the cushy leather seats occupied at a mix of high and low tables beneath the bemused gaze of George Bernard Shaw.

Yes, there are proper pints of Guinness on the scene, but also several distinctive house cocktails such as the Writer’s Block, a liberating tonic that builds on Sazerac rye and Dolin dry vermouth. Add an admirable well, worthy wines by the glass, and—no surprise—there’s a fair amount of imbibing going on. Most folks don’t snack here; they come to feast, and feast well, thanks to executive chef Dave Shofner.

Shofner’s fine-dining chops are considerable; he’s a veteran of primo kitchens past (Troquet, Chat Noir, French 75) and present (Opah). When owners (and Irishers) Darren and Jean Coyle set out to create a pub to rival Dublin’s finest, betting on Shofner was the wise wager. Soon after Dublin 4 opened last St. Patrick’s Day, the Coyles also put him in charge of the fare at the wine bar next door.

But the deluxe pub grub is the marquee event here. I say grub with a wink because the menu plays coy by offering the expected players: potato-cheese soup, cottage pie, and batter-fried sausages, with Shofner’s team kicking up the quality by a country kilometer. The velvety spud soup is impeccably balanced with grainy beer, aged Irish cheddar, and rich notes of fine, wood-smoked bacon. Medium-grind bangers, made on-site, come as nuggets crisply encased in golden batter made buoyant with ale; swipe each bite through the aioli spiked with whiskey and pebbly mustard for a beer-friendly nibble with noble character. Lightly seasoned mashed potato cakes get a rich crust from sizzling in duck fat, then another dose of musky flavor from roasted wild mushroom sauce with thyme. It’s more of a side than a small plate.

Tradition makes a hard left turn on dishes that taste thoroughly modern, such as the PBLT with magnificent pork belly, cured in-house, then stacked on toasted country bread with tart, crunchy pickles on the side. A paper cone of shoestring fries gilds the lily. D4 Reuben Rolls use the elements of a Reuben to stuff egg roll wrappers that are fried crunchy, then sliced on the bias for easy dipping into from-scratch secret sauce. Again, house-made fundamentals—corned beef and sauerkraut—ensure the quirky appetizer teems with flavor.

The three “gastro pies” are gourmet riffs on the humble cottage pie. The Zinfandel-braised lamb variety is bounteous with slow-simmered meat, parsnips, and pearl onions. Breaking into the puff-pastry lid releases glorious aromas that quickly draw all eyes to your fork. Maine lobster, fresh peas, and cognac cream star in the luxurious Dublin Lawyer Lobster Pie. Even the conventional cottage pie surpasses its meat-and-potatoes imperative by upgrading to dry-aged Niman Ranch beef with a mashed potato roof laced with roasted garlic and cheddar. There’s nothing economy class about this take on the peasant classic.

The house burger should be superb and it is, a well-wrought assembly of freshly ground beef, house bacon, grilled onions, and garlic-black pepper aioli on brioche. But I’ll gladly swap out the hamburger for Shofner’s virtuoso Prime Colorado lamb burger dressed with feta, roasted red peppers, pickled onions, arugula, and garlic aioli. Flecks of white truffle-thyme season crispy frites on the side. They’re even better with a dab of thick, small-batch Sir Kensington’s Ketchup, which doesn’t come with it. Just ask for some.

A tight clutch of entrees efficiently covers bigger appetites. It’s hard to best the fish and chips made from fresh Norwegian cod in a cloud of pale-ale batter that’s paired with thick fries sprinkled with sea salt and malt vinegar. Hanger steak is near-ubiquitous these days, but here it’s Prime beef from Creekstone Farms and its texture and flavor are excellent. Mushroom-peppercorn cream sauce complements the robust beef, but who knew colcannon—mashers, cabbage, and butter—could be so seductive? Impeccably seared day-boat scallops are luscious enough, but pan-roasted steelhead with beet puree tastes more interesting and felicitous in this setting.

Desserts and service tend to be the variables of Dublin 4. One night’s fresh rhubarb crumble tart is so spot-on, I forgive the plucky waitress for tangling earlier with our party’s cocktail connoisseur. Another night, the ubergracious Darren Coyle stops to chat just as we dip into the dry croissant bread pudding devoid of the billed orange and cardamom flavors. Next time, I’ll just indulge in a faithful Irish coffee with John Powers whiskey, dark brown sugar, and freshly whipped cream.

Céad mile fáilte, “A hundred-thousand welcomes,” reads a Gaelic note card on our reserved table. And to that I say, “Sláinte!”

Best Dishes
Specialty cocktails, potato-cheese soup, battered Irish bangers, D4 Reuben Rolls, duck-fat fried potato cakes, cottage pie, Zinfandel lamb pie, lobster pie, house burger, lamb burger, PBLT, fish and chips, day-boat scallops, hanger steak, steelhead trout, rhubarb tart.

Price Range
Appetizers, small plates, $8 to $18; cottage pies, $16; entrees, $18 to $30; desserts, $9.

FYI
D4 is a high-profile Dublin postal zone.

26342 Oso Parkway, Mission Viejo, 949-582-0026

Three stars

Photograph by Priscilla Iezzi

This article originally appeared in the February 2013 issue.

Main Course: Mare Culinary Lounge

Gretchen Kurz — Wed, 26 Dec 2012 17:00:00 GMT

There’s a tequila sunset in progress over Laguna Beach, but only a few steps into Mare Culinary Lounge on busy Coast Highway, it’s dark and moody. Sleek with black and gray glass tiles, the walls shimmer where they catch glints of cobalt blue that glows from beneath the bar. Silent, sepia film footage of elephants, foreign seashores, and a shirtless, barefoot boy flicker on one wall, projected from an unseen source. The enigmatic aura is a stark departure from the funky, beachy scene outside.

Before our irises can adjust to the shadowy surroundings, a gracious waiter suggests we sit anywhere. It’s on the far edge of early, and seating still abounds. Across the room, a rollicking pack of party girls is clearly indulging in some cocktail therapy. How this happens is no mystery—the handsome libations are dangerously delicious. One Pirozzirita, chef-owner Alessandro Pirozzi’s signature margarita, leads to another, or perhaps to a luscious, vibrant passion fruit margarita.

We sink into a cushy banquette and review the menu as the waiter pulls the cork from the white wine we brought along, for which corkage is a reasonable $15. Knowing that pizza is a strength at Pirozzi’s trio of beach-town shops, we quickly order one to share while we design a dinner strategy. Mare is the newest and swankiest addition to his clutch of popular Italian restaurants, the only one that doesn’t bear his nickname, Alessá. Sure enough, the sizzling pizza strewn with sheer slices of goat cheese and spicy housemade sopressata disappears amid hungry moans.

Lightly pickled bright orange sweet peppers, glossy and round, pop with flavor and ooze their tangy filling of creamed goat cheese and crushed walnuts. These vanish quickly, too. The megabowl of steamy house soup is a winter sleeper, easy to overlook in favor of the more overtly alluring choices. The ingredients—chicken stock, squash, roma tomatoes, braised lamb (optional), and aged Parmesan—give no clue to the soulful, harmonious essence they create.

Pirozzi and company concoct some amazing pastas: rolled (lasagna), cut (pappardelle), filled (agnolotti), and extruded (radiatori). Here, some of the best include dough infused with other ingredients. Limoncello is the magic in the ribbons of mafaldine topped with morsels of lobster sauteed with shallots and pinot grigio, a signature dish that sells like mad. Cuori di zucca, plump pasta hearts stuffed with butternut squash, sauced brown butter, and sage, is another all-star, and though the dish is terrific times two, Mare’s fresine lunghe is less known and just as thrilling. Extra-long ribbons of pasta infused with eggplant have surprising heft, and mixed with tender, almost sweetish chunks of the young fruit (yes, eggplant is technically a berry) and creamy mozzarella make a tasty reward that could sway eggplant-avoiders.

The grilled rib-eye steak gets the full Italian herbal treatment—fresh garlic, rosemary, and thyme—but lacks beefy flavor even though the cut is laced with fat. So it’s easy to fall for crunchy, juicy, double chicken breast Milanese with lemon caper sauce and that vivid yellow limoncello pasta, a simple dish, executed with care.

My pick for red-meat champion is the luscious wine-braised lamb shoulder ragu, which sneaks into the finlike crevices of chubby radiatori (pasta resembling a radiator grill). Every bite of the chunky mix reveals another note to savor, be it earth, meat, tomato, fennel, rosemary, or dark fruity wine. It’s difficult not to order this on every visit. Good thing it isn’t on the breakfast menu.

Thanks to Mare’s location within Laguna’s vintage Holiday Inn, the kitchen is cranking from early morning till late night. The U-shaped three-story inn cradles a sizeable private patio. Quiet and protected, the alfresco tables make for lovely dining on breakfast paninis or hearty fritattas that actually are voluptuous omelets. Use those triangles of fresh focaccia toast to scoop up runaway burrata cheese in the meatball frittata, or dip into yolk-oozing poached eggs over wilted spinach bathed in Parmesan cream sauce. It’s hard to have a bad day when it starts like this.

Mobbed from Day One, Mare is a snazzy treat for Pirozzi followers and any diner with a soft spot for savory, insightful Italian fare in a stylish setting. Yes, this new venue is more glitzy than homespun, but the welcome is warm and the food is delightful, and now we can eat from his kitchen from 7 a.m. to 2 a.m. We’re already checking the Holiday Inn’s extended-stay rates.

Best Dishes
Specialty cocktails, crispy sopressata pizza, orange sweet peppers, Mare soup, cuori di zucca, limoncello mafaldine, fresine lunghe, chicken Milanese, radiatori, burrata meatball frittata, Tuscany eggs.

Price Range
Breakfast and brunch, $12 to $19; lunch, $12 to $17; dinner, $7 to $24.

FYI
Blue Laguna and Bamboo Bar once occupied this venue.

696 S. Coast Highway, Laguna Beach, 949-715-9581, mareculinarylounge.com

Three-and-a-half stars

Click here to browse photos of Mare Culinary Lounge

Photograph by Priscilla Iezzi

This article originally appeared in the January 2013 issue.

Main Course: Juliette Kitchen & Bar

Gretchen Kurz — Mon, 19 Nov 2012 20:00:00 GMT

Every neighborhood deserves a casual, accessible haunt where food is king, wine is queen, and prices are fair. Newport Beach’s new Juliette Kitchen & Bar is a fine example of such a place.

I blame our rambling, freeway-laced geography for the rarity of unfussy indies with clued-in cuisine. Unlike those in Chicago or San Francisco, nearly every good restaurant in O.C. requires a drive, and simply can’t survive on business generated by diners within walking distance. It’s a defining reality that makes a newbie such as Juliette shine all the brighter.

Open since July in the longtime digs of Tradition by Pascal, the space’s speedy revamp leaves no trace of Pascal Olhat’s decorous French flagship. White linens and masses of roses are gone, and the revamped room is now unmistakably hip-casual, with weathered paneling, wood floors, and a coffered ceiling hung with a glimmering chandelier—a wink of refinement amid studied rusticity. The 70-seat room seems bigger, perhaps because it’s busier and livelier than the former scene.

A gleaming full bar is center stage, flanked by a high communal table for welcome seating when the eight-stool bar reaches capacity. That’s all but certain on Thursday through Saturday evenings. The particularly thoughtful choice of beer, wine, and seasonal cocktails explains the bar’s popularity, but what’s coming out of the kitchen also lures a spirited crowd of office warriors, local foodies, and Pascal ex-pats.

Juliette is a modern family affair. Hyun-Sook “Juliette” Chung runs the room, husband John Hughes nurtures the attached wine boutique, and Chung’s daughter Erica Choi is pastry chef. Chung and Hughes are the founders of the Filling Station in Old Towne Orange, a charming diner they helmed for a decade before selling in 2010. Juliette is a sophisticated step up and a nod to cuisine they seek out on their travels, especially in California’s wine-producing regions.

Executive chef Daniel Hyatt is a good fit, sharing their appreciation for market-driven cuisine that exploits the best of choice ingredients. For searching and sorting purposes, Hyatt’s menus might well be tagged New American. Yes, there’s a luscious burger at lunch and garlicky grilled prawns at dinner, but Hyatt’s long stint at Signal Hill’s esteemed Delius, under chef Louise Solzman, reveals itself in the dynamic dinner carte, much of it produce-driven.

Small plates, good for sharing or starters, bounce from grilled fruit with dark greens and aged sherry, to Prince Edward Island mussels steamed with sweet onion and harissa butter, to pillowy gnocchi with duck confit and arugula pesto. House-smoked ocean trout, mild and succulent, stars in a mix of wild arugula, stewed grapes, baby tomatoes, and puckery pickled onions, all dressed with honey-lime vinaigrette.

Hyatt’s take on pork belly (of course) is a bit busy and disconnected. The chewy-rich meat is sticky with a tamarind glaze. Crisp slivers of pickled radish and turnips amplify the tamarind’s tang while dried cherries add more tart-sweet, and pistachios lend crunch. But all the parts lack a dominant lead. Farro risotto is a dazzler, however. The slow simmering helps the grain hold its nutty integrity against musky trumpet mushrooms, silky squash blossoms, streaks of slightly bitter Swiss chard, and chunks of tomato. This striking starch could put dreary potatoes on notice.

Outstanding dishes from my warm-weather visits are bound to be gone by now—fall-apart pork cheeks with peaches and roasted garlic jus, tuna crudo with jalapeno mango sorbet—replaced by wintry fare such as hot pots and braised meats. The beautiful roasted tomatoes and sweet corn on the hanger steak plate will surely make way for squashes and Brussels sprouts. But do order this flavorful cut of beef, cooked to perfect medium rare. A roasted Jidori chicken, a bistro classic, needs salt. Salt also is lacking in a cone of unremarkable French fries that look better than they taste, even with the aid of house-made ketchup.

Several unique cheeses and charcuterie items stand out for their careful selection. How nice to see a tart goat cheese from small producer Drake Family Farms. And the aged, butterscotch-y Gouda from Holland. Cured-meat fiends will appreciate the Creminelli sopressata from Utah and chianti-tinged Olli’s Norcino salame from Virginia. To accompany, grilled baguette slices and raisins on the vine arrive on a plank that also might bear marinated olives, fig jam, or spiced almonds, all prepped in-house.

Desserts nicely complement the kitchen’s personality. Salted caramel pot de crème is velvet on the tongue, the tangy creme fraiche revving the palate up for more, and spicy pepita brittle adding a brilliant crunch. Affogato marries nectarous espresso from cult coffee roaster, Blue Bottle, with satin-smooth vanilla ice cream, bested only by the fragile sea salt chocolate-chip cookies on the side—some of the best cookies of my year. The chocolate souffle cake, however, lacks dimension and character. If in doubt, stick with the affogato. Or cheese.

Service varies from jaded to pleasant to overambitious, depending on the server you catch. Sitting at the bar can help, no doubt because it’s in sight of gracious Juliette at the hostess post.

I see why Juliette Kitchen & Bar landed promptly on the discerning diners’ must-try list. For a neighborhood upstart with high standards, it’s finding itself quickly. If you live in 92660, your dining future has fresh promise. The rest of us will just have to drive a bit.

Best Dishes
Juliette burger, grilled fruit with greens, grilled prawns, Prince Edward Island mussels, smoked ocean trout salad, gnocchi, pork belly, pork cheeks, farro risotto, hanger steak, cheeses and charcuterie, salted caramel pot de creme, affogato.

Price Range
Small plates, $9 to $16; large plates, $21 to $32; corkage $5 for any bottle from the adjacent boutique, $15 otherwise.

FYI
Closed Sunday.

1000 Bristol St. N., Newport Beach, 949-752-5854, juliettenb.com

Two-and-a-half stars

Photograph by Priscilla Iezzi

This article originally appeared in the December 2012 issue.

Main Course: Bistro Bleu

Gretchen Kurz — Mon, 22 Oct 2012 19:00:00 GMT

It’s been a long time since a folksy, value-priced French bistro opened in these parts. And though it was sad to bid au revoir to Cafe Francais, Le Biarritz, and LaFayette, the April birth of west Anaheim’s Bistro Bleu is a blessing for Francophiles who yearn for another addition to a lean family of options. Chef-owner David Kesler is the hero in this story.

In a shopping center with a ragged bodega and no-frills Zumba studio in an unglamorous part of town, he and wife Pamela saw blue skies in the weary ruins of a defunct pizza joint. Kesler, a veteran of Pascal, Aubergine (both now closed), and The Cellar, knows his French fare. The menu reads like a PBS season of vintage Julia Child: coq au vin, escargot, lobster bisque, duck liver terrine, steak au poivre, and chocolate souffle. While his indie peers are chopping kale, spooning sambal, and butchering pigs, Kesler works the traditional bistro dishes with faithful glee.

Starters include Kir Royale and parfait de foie de volailles (duck liver pate), a fitting duo for embracing the bistro’s je ne sais quoi. Dainty pickled onions and cornichons garnish the chestnut-brown slab of satiny spread that tastes of liver made elegant with mushrooms, butter, and a kiss of cognac. Smeared on toast ovals and nibbled in concert with creme de cassis-dosed bubbly, it’s an opener that takes you far from Anaheim. Snails in most local places typically are drowning in pools of butter, garlic, and parsley. Not here. The tender gastropods come a la Provençal, soaking in a bath of tomatoes, mushrooms, garlic, white wine, and a touch of creme fraiche. The zesty melange is a wee salty, but I gladly polish off the entire crock, soaking up the last juices with bread.

La bisque de homard is a buttery, opulent lobster bisque laced with cream, brandy, and the telltale depth of long-simmered shells. Gratinée à l’oignon is predictable, in a good way. Full-flavored and loaded with ribbons of soft onion, the hot broth arrives with a bobbing island of bread and thick, melted Gruyere. Both soups are so enjoyable, it’s easy to bypass the salads, though l’épinard—warm spinach tossed in bacon vinaigrette—satisfies with all the classic elements, down to its scattering of mushrooms, red onion, and chopped hard-boiled egg.

Midday winners served only at lunchtime include a righteous croque madame, France’s iconic hot ham-and-cheese sandwich baked with sourdough, smooth bechamel sauce, and crowned with a golden fried egg. Chewy and gooey and oh so yummy, this knife-and-fork sandwich can disarm the most prudent dieter. Crepe du pecheur is another bechamel wonder: mixed fresh seafood and cheese filling an herby crepe, oven-bubbled beneath a light cloak of sauce. A trio of prix fixe menus—each with three courses—runs $16 to $20, all killer deals.

The dinner menu rolls out sweet prices as well. Granted, the kitchen isn’t packing top-tier ingredients, but as in France, this humble bistro makes the most of modest goods.

The happy results include le carré d’agneau: juicy roasted New Zealand lamb chops, pungent with fresh rosemary and sauced with red wine reduction, served over potato puree. Hanger steak, the go-to budget cut, appears here as steak frites alongside crispy fries that are brawnier in size and heft than their matchstick cousins. Coq au vin does the French classic proud. It’s a small thrill to see a plump leg and meaty thigh—no breast belongs in this classic—mahogany brown from gentle braising in red wine, with bacon, carrots, mushrooms, and pearl onions. Buttered pasta, in this case linguine, completes the sublime peasant dish.

Aside from shellfish, seafood typically is a daily special. One night it’s Pacific swordfish, a lot of it, smothered in a fine shitake and oyster mushroom sauce that doesn’t stint on cream. Twice-baked potato is the rib-sticking side.

Don’t skip dessert. The Belgian chocolate souffle is wonderful and sure to make you a better person and the world a better place. It’s finished tableside with a dose of chocolate syrup and a cloud of whipped cream studded with chocolate bits. For the poor souls who cannot abide another souffle, there’s a textbook creme brulee. No flavor infusions of green tea or mocha, just a judicious measure of vanilla to set off the silken custard under its torched sugar lid.

Tidy and unfussy, the 60-seat space has only simple tables and chairs. Canning jars hold the table’s silverware, and the napkins are paper. But French blue walls, vintage photos under the glass tabletops, and the hand-painted foyer mural of Paris add a fair share of charm.

Service is welcoming and earnest, if a bit green at times. Patrons are as disparate as the neighborhood, but there are more each time I visit. The gleaming new Range Rover looks comically out of place in the parking lot, but it’s clear the driver is here for the dining. I see this as a harbinger of hope.

Bistro Bleu proves that a newcomer doesn’t have to be innovative or wildly daring to be special. Cooking French food from the heart in a humble venue is hardly groundbreaking, but it’s happening here and now, and it feels oddly fresh and new.

Best Dishes
Coq au vin (wine-braised chicken), escargots, lobster bisque, onion soup, duck liver terrine, Pacific swordfish in mushroom sauce, croque madame, mixed seafood crepe, chocolate souffle.

Price Range
Lunch, $5 to $20; dinner, $6 to $24; Sunday brunch, $5 to $11.75.

Closed
Mondays.

Coming Soon
Before year’s end, Kesler hopes to add tableside classics such as Dover sole and chateaubriand.

918 S. Magnolia Ave. Anaheim, 714-826-3590 bistrobleudining.com
Two-and-a-Half Stars

Click here to browse photos of Bistro Bleu

Photograph by Priscilla Iezzi

This article originally appeared in the November 2012 issue.

Main Course: Playground

Gretchen Kurz — Tue, 25 Sep 2012 18:32:00 GMT

Last spring, when chef-owner Jason Quinn plotted his rookie restaurant in downtown Santa Ana, he noted that burgers and craft beers would be central to Playground’s fare. Today, he pours 75-plus swell brews, but not a single burger graces the quirky menu. The feisty Quinn simply assumes you’ll know it’s there, perhaps because of the nonstop parade of fat patties in glistening brioche emanating from the kitchen—a one-size-fits-all meal in a bun. No upgrades. No extras. No requesting how you’d like it cooked.

This is a place where the more you surrender to the wiles of your chef, the greater your pleasures. As the chatty website warns: “At Playground, you have to submit to our whim.” This is no shrine to conventional meals, nor the place to satisfy your craving for a particular dish.

What Quinn’s always-changing menu does tout are scores of intriguing meat and vegetable dishes listed in typewriter font: superconcise Maple Glazed Pork Chop on one hand, cheeky You’re Wrong About Anchovies on the other (it’s a Spanish white anchovy pan con tomate, better known as fresh tomato and anchovy smeared on bread). Some entries are flat-out brash: Buy the Kitchen Staff a Round of After-Service Beers.

Good thing the affable crew is patient and conversant.

Try lunch if you’re not up for sassy menu riddles. The carte is to the point, and the options are appealing. A golden grilled-cheese sandwich oozing Tallegio and cheddar is an impressive stout stack, no preamble required. It’s also prime time for the notorious burger: a three-day project that involves butchering, aging, grinding, forming, and grilling, and yields a delicious two-hander cooked perfectly medium-rare. Melted Tomme de Savoie cheese and simmered maple-bourbon onions add harmonic umami, without subduing the char-and-beef notes of the lusty near-half-pounder. Some knock the shredded iceberg lettuce, but with a heap so carnal, I find the criticism nitpicky. I’m willing to hand it to a chef who confidently serves a dish his way, especially when I have no regrets.

Come dinner, the crowd turns hipper, and the vibe more focused on culinary escapades. Quinn and his team regularly circulate through the proletariat-chic room, running dishes or dispensing details. The week’s dinner menu premieres on Tuesday and evolves as the week passes. It’s not unusual to see caveats—“we only have two” or “limited” on the menu by Friday. By the end of the week, a lovely rabbit mousse on toast is replaced by a spicy soft-shell crab Benedict that makes similar dishes seem humdrum. Tangy fermented tofu as rich as a fine blue cheese replaces wok-sizzled sugar snap peas slick with sambal and salty soy.

Inspired by what the season and offbeat sources have to offer, the kitchen riffs with anarchistic glee. Solid technique and grueling work may be the only tethers keeping this shop grounded. Meals are not presented by courses; dishes arrive in the order they’re ready, gastropub style. So pace yourself or your table will be overloaded with dishes you can’t enjoy before they cool, such as the congealed cheese-and-mushroom quesadilla we abandon after a bite.

Some diners don’t warm to Quinn’s feisty attitude. But he also can be an irresistible pied piper.

If you’re looking for proof, book a table for the incomparable Sunday Supper, the $40-per-person prix fixe meal with limited seating, no menu, and what seems like an endless parade of courses.

Our meal starts with a quick verbal survey of diners’ appetites and allergies, and Quinn’s suggestions based on the kitchen’s mood and inventory. Everything is served family-style.

First out, a suckling pig head with juicy cheek meat we pick through hungrily. Next comes a lacy tangle of baby greens, goat cheese, onion slivers, and glazed pecans, followed by a platter piled with quail lacquered in pomegranate sauce.

After one or two of the bantam birds, we’re delivered a share plate of soft scrambled eggs, shot through with rich jamón ibérico lardo (cured Spanish fatback).

A generous bowl of fresh, yellow sweet corn, off the cob and spiked with butter and Mexican cheese, arrives next. Then come spears of summer zucchini, slick with herbed olive oil. The two are sunny breaks before feasting on a massive and tender-pink pork chop glossy with toffee-hued maple syrup.

Is that a whole chicken headed our way? Indeed, and it’s deep-fried golden, with minimal breading to highlight the poultry’s old-timey, nonsupermarket savoriness. A thin dipping sauce, fiery and off-sweet, is the addictive partner. Course No. 10 (or is it 11?) is the only dud: underbaked cinnamon rolls that are doughy and raw inside. The weighty finale to this fabled feast—a syrupy, dense sticky-toffee pudding—make us yearn for a bright sorbet, which would have been a lighter, more graceful endnote. We aren’t the only party exiting with multiple bags of leftovers.

Sunday Suppers often sell out, despite the rigid pay-in-advance and cancellation policies. But popularity doesn’t equal staying power and nothing here remains the same for very long. That would be playing by the rules, something that just doesn’t happen at this playground.

Best Dishes
House burger, grilled cheese, house salad, sugar snap peas in sambal, rabbit mousse, suckling pig, whole fried chicken, pan-roasted corn, spicy soft-shell crab Benedict, lardo scrambled eggs, pork chop, grilled quail.

Price Range
Lunch, $7 to $25; dinner, $6 to $25; Sunday brunch, $5 to $22; Sunday Supper, $40. No corkage.

FYI
Closed Mondays.

Coming Soon
Patio dining, and next door, a 17-seat chef’s menu-only storefront.

220 E. Fourth St., Santa Ana, 714-560-4444, Playgrounddtsa.com
Two-and-a-Half Stars

Photograph by Priscilla Iezzi

This article originally appeared in the October 2012 issue.

Main Course: South of Nick’s

Gretchen Kurz — Mon, 27 Aug 2012 17:00:00 GMT

Colorful Spanish tiles pave the way to the shaded portico at South of Nick’s. Tall ceramic urns overflowing with water burble softly behind a sleek wood bench, a soothing spot to wait for a table.

Inside the warren of interlocking rooms, the mood is rosy and expectant. Nearly every stool, booth, and table is taken, and a blur of staffers attends to upbeat locals. High overhead, black-painted vintage wood trusses are a nod to this building’s past life as the office of city founder Ole Hanson.

Like Nick’s eateries in Laguna Beach and one just around the corner, a roomy oblong bar moors the main dining room. Excellent cocktails keep the staff busy and the chairs full, with ace tequilas inviting the most attention. This is a Mexican kitchen, helmed by chef Omar Gonzalez, and the effect of the whitewashed walls, dark trim, and tile floors is pure California circa 1926. So play along by ordering a fine Kah reposado for sipping, or the house chelada, a Negra Modelo beer and lime juice in a frosty glass with salted rim.

Smiling and informed, the crew seems focused on dispensing satisfaction and pleasure. Requests are handled with cheer, and refills arrive without asking. How refreshing. Ultrafresh chips and salsa arrive with the menus. The vibrant salsa, which is midway between chunky and soupy, offers faint sweet notes. I wish it weren’t so tame, but most diners don’t share my penchant for incendiary chili heat. True to the Nick’s efficiency canon, the menu is one page long and every item sounds delectable. Mini-sopes, masa cups filled with smoky beef chili, and moist roasted pork make great shareable finger food. Terrific blackened shrimp taquitos are an unexpected take on the usual deep-fried tortilla tubes; the spicy jumbo Mexican prawns have golden tortillas affixed at the tails, flaring out like bells. Six of the crispy bundles are drizzled with avocado and chipotle ranch sauces, and crumbled queso fresco adds tang.

Freshly concocted guacamole doesn’t blaze any trails, but deserves praise for its creamy Hass avocados. Chicken tortilla soup is savory but safe, while albondigas is the stunner, a piping-hot terra-cotta bowl brimming with fat, soft meatballs several bites each, rounds of corn on the cob, chunks of sweet carrots, and skin-on potatoes all in a beefy broth. Retro Gringo Taco Salad is a sly wink to the old taco salad with ground beef and Lawry’s taco seasoning. Chopped iceberg lettuce, grated cheddar and jack, scallions, black olives, and sour cream—it’s the whole package.

Blackened sea bass in a trio of tubby soft tacos stuffed with shaved cabbage, black beans, avocado salsa, and the seared fish, is a tasty, generous plate good for sharing, though it’s billed as a seafood entree. That same fish in a larger portion and griddled becomes a refined dish when paired with a seductive poblano cream sauce, mild white rice, and sauteed verdolagas, a lemony-peppery green with heft and crunch. Pork chile verde is a classic stew with no gimmicks, just richly flavored pork, braised carefully and served with fluffy Spanish rice and basic refried beans. But the tortillas elevate it to rapturous. Handmade corn tortillas have superpowers, and several dishes on the menu include them. Seek them out or just order a side of them, which I’ll do from now on.

Meat and seafood are given equal time, and some plates include both. Mar y Tierra (sea and land) pairs a lobster tail with a center-cut filet of beef (you can also get the filet on its own). Or, go all out with La Tablita, a protein feast of citrus grilled chicken, grilled Mexican prawns, sliced Prime rib-eye, beans, rice, and guacamole enough for at least two. Again, the items are straightforward preparations that let good ingredients shine.

The menu allows for a handful of dishes you can combine for platters big or small. The pork tamale was so flavorful and balanced with good masa that it easily outshone the tame, mild zucchini blossom enchilada. It made me regret not adding the loaded, bacon-wrapped Sonoran hot dog to my combo instead. That a hot dog is an option at all is an endearing bit of levity.

Desserts are few, but delightful, and at $5, a bargain. A fat, white square of tres leches cake is so light and creamy and not overly sweet that I would happily drive cross-county for another bite. Flan with caramelized banana is firm, almost dense, with deep flavors of tasty custard. Dark chocolate from top to bottom, the low-set tart gets crunch from pecans on top while bean-flecked vanilla ice cream supplies velvety contrast.

Waiting for my party to reassemble for the ride home, I find myself alone in the foyer. As I snag a tiny box of Chiclets from a bowl at the hostess desk, I notice that the sleek bench outside is empty. While I relax there and watch the action on El Camino, I get a contentment rush. I’ll be back.

Best Dishes
Shrimp taquitos, albondigas soup, guacamole, mini-sopes, ensalade de camarones, sea bass tacos, pork tamale, carnitas, chile verde, tres leches cake, flan, chocolate tart.

Price Range
Starters, $6 to $15; entrees, $10 to $40; desserts, $5.

Best Tables
High booth Nos. 42 and 45 by the bar, Nos. 36 and 39 by the fireplace.

Sangria Sundays
A sangria is created each Sunday inspired by the fruit sold at that day’s farmers market.

FYI
Look for nearly 40 tequila choices, from $8 to $55.

110 N. El Camino Real, San Clemente, 949-481-4545, southofnicks.com
Three Stars

Photograph by Priscilla Iezzi

This article originally appeared in the September 2012 issue.

Main Course: Paul Martin’s American Grill

Gretchen Kurz — Mon, 23 Jul 2012 18:00:00 GMT

In the ongoing upgrade of restaurants at the Spectrum in Irvine, Paul Martin’s American Grill is yet another player. Open since November, it’s a handsome, strapping venue with 260-plus seats, zero pretension, and a mission to make the journey from
farm to fork as short as possible. A single-page carte of mainly American dishes instantly appeals. It’s familiar, straightforward, and devoid of overly clever menuspeak. Descriptions are short, plain, and complete. “Salt & Pepper Wild Prawns, buttermilk battered with pesto aioli, $17” gets the job done. When questions arise, the friendly servers typically are menu-savvy and ready with cogent answers.

No mystery about those salt-and-pepper prawns, though. They’re fat, luscious, and come piping hot in their light coats of crispy seasoning. Pesto-powered aioli makes for rich dunking, and a little goes a long way. It’s a fabulous starter. Spinach dip, simple as it sounds, is unexpectedly sophisticated. Rather than a bowl of chopped spinach spackle, what arrives is a warm gratin of fresh Bloomsdale spinach leaves, wilting in a loose sauce spiked with sun-dried tomatoes and piquant white cheddar cheese. A nifty share plate, we spoon it over just-toasted sourdough thins. Smoked salmon spread can’t rival the other two appetizers, and the green apple slices that accompany are too thin and few to merit mention on the menu.

The highly seasonal menu is a moving target and change-ups are continual because founding partner and culinary director Brian Bennett tirelessly hunts down small farms and purveyors of premium crops and goods. Sure to be replaced by lighter summer recipes such as roasted tomato or fresh corn and quinoa, soups here are deeply flavored and nicely garnished. Two to keep on your radar for cooler weather: the creamy wild mushroom potage laced with sherry, and the hearty-and-healthy roasted butternut squash soup adorned with sage pesto.

This seasonal quest has a huge impact on such uncomplicated fare—dishes that rely on fresh, clear, peak flavors and eschew heavy-handed intervention. Chimichurri chicken is a fine example of diligent sourcing. Simple grilling preserves the distinct texture and divine flavor of Pitman Family Farms’ free-range, hormone-free birds from Sanger, Calif. Topped with a verdant slurry of bright herbs so fresh the aroma has faintly floral notes along with earthy hints of olive oil and garlic, the poultry reveals opulent flavors we rarely detect in chicken these days.

For another palate wake-up call, try the house burger. House-butchered Angus chuck is ground once, enhanced only by salt and pepper, then hand-formed into a 7-ounce patty bursting with savoriness that almost doesn’t need add-ons, although the bacon, Tillamook cheddar, Point Reyes blue cheese, and sautéed mushrooms are hard to resist.

Dazzling ingredients don’t always add up to excellence, though. One happy hour, bites of greasy fried chicken lack seasoning. Another night’s side of shaved Brussels sprouts is undercooked and light on flavor that a more vigorous sauté would reveal. The Asian chopped-chicken salad is generous, but dull.

Still, the wine list and cocktail lineup deliver punch and excitement. House infusions marry fresh fruit with pristine spirits that get hand-shaken into lively cocktails such as Bistro Champagne Lemonade, a frisky summer elixir of Meyer lemon vodka, lemon juice, fresh basil, and a float of Gloria Ferrer bubbly. Gems from the insightful wine collection range from the exclusive Parr, Sanford and Benedict Vineyard Chardonnay, to the innovative Paul Dolan Mendocino County Pinot Noir “on tap.” Of the 100-bottle list, 71 are served by the glass in hefty 7-ounce pours.

Wine choices by the glass and bottle are just the ticket when dinner ranges from fresh oysters to squash soup to braised short ribs to a gutsy Prime New York steak. Oysters in their craggy half shells go down nicely with a crisp white. An oaky chardonnay suits a classic warm bacon-spinach salad strewn with toasted California pistachios. For meaty braised short ribs on buttery mashed potatoes (a comfort-food winner that won’t return until the weather cools), a glass of merlot. Terrific Prime all-natural New York steak, grilled to a precise medium-rare and crowned with tangy blue cheese butter, clamors for a well-built cabernet.

The list of from-scratch desserts is short and simple. Seasonal crème brûlée—raspberry on my visits—is vanilla-rich with a lovely texture. Fresh ice creams churned in-house are a no-brainer option for sweltering nights. Of course, dense chocolate is always available, along with seasonal specials. Don’t miss the banana cream pie with a delicate shell that’s brushed with a fine layer of dark chocolate that keeps the crust dry against the freshly made filling and roof of just-whipped cream. It’s superlative. Share if you dare, but you’ll likely regret it.

Paul Martin’s is staking a claim on “no.” No short cuts. No sauced up, tricked-out dishes. No produce from Peru. No attitude. No exotica. It all adds up to a distinctly “yes” destination for enjoying simple, honest, feel-good fare at the peak of flavor.

Best Dishes
Salt-and-pepper prawns, spinach dip, soups, turkey-dip sandwich, house burger, New York steak, chimichurri chicken, brick chicken, banana cream pie, strawberry shortcake, seasonal crème brûlée.

Price Range
Starters, $9 to $17; sandwiches and burgers, $12 to $16; entrées, $15 to $34; desserts, $6 to $9.

Best Tables
Booth Nos. 10, 11, and 13 overlooking the scene.

2 Nights, 2 Deals, 3 Courses
Sunday’s prime rib feast is $29; Monday’s fried chicken supper, $22

FYI
Paul Martin is named after partner Paul Martin Fleming—yes, of Fleming’s Prime Steakhouse.

31 Fortune Drive, Irvine, 949-453-1144 paulmartinsamericanbistro.com

Photograph by Priscilla Iezzi

This article originally appeared in the August 2012 issue.

Main Course: The Ranch

Gretchen Kurz — Mon, 18 Jun 2012 18:44:00 GMT

Our chipper hostess at The Saloon announces, “That’ll be a five-dollar cover charge.” We’re just killing time before dining next door at the companion venue, The Ranch, open since January. But waiting for a table is no exemption, so we fork over a ten-spot in exchange for two hand stamps under the watchful eye of a brawny guy with SECURITY emblazoned on his yellow shirt.

It’s early, and the grand dance hall with two colossal bars is just coming to life; couples twirl and two-step to country pop hits playing over an impressive sound system. Wow, those dancers are scary-good, I think, as we sip drinks and nibble deviled eggs.

Mesmerized by the nimble moves of the boot-scooting duos, I figure the $5 cover is more like an entertainment fee. Unlike the folks in the line forming fast outside the door, I’m not wearing cowboy boots, and it’s almost a relief to duck into the restaurant where dining is the main event.

Everything here reeks of brand-new and top-drawer, and no one is happier to show it off than founder Andrew Edwards, even though his dining rooms and kitchen are still works in progress. The Ranch and its adjacent honky-tonk are the ground floor of the six-story world headquarters of Extron Electronics, Edwards’ thriving company. Building this conglomerate—a place for music, dancing, and wining and dining—is the culmination of his longtime dream of giving Orange County something unique.

Greeters consult monitors and one another before leading us to an upper booth in the split-level dining room flanked by a glass-walled kitchen. Our chatty waiter leads a tour through a whopping, somewhat wordy American menu that, like the handsome space, is a mash-up of modern and traditional, down-home and uptown. More than a year in the making, the wine-friendly carte is the work of executive chef Michael Rossi and food-and-beverage vice president and Master Sommelier Michael Jordan, who previously collaborated at Napa Rose. Since April, Rossi’s brother David has been on board as pastry chef.

Tables quickly fill by the time we’re ready to order. Who can say no to starting with warm, poufy, nut-brown popovers? Steam escapes once the eggy pastry clouds are torn open, the crunchy crust absorbing pale butter for a start that revs all the senses. Next, burly fresh Castroville globe artichokes, luscious grilled wedges that come with both a flattering preserved lemon rémoulade for dipping, and a salsa of green olives and pine nuts so intense it’s almost better suited to the dinner rolls. Still, it’s a light opener and easy to share. Delicate sweet potato gnocchi with braised rabbit is stellar, with umami notes of slow-simmered tomatoes and flecks of woodsy maitake mushrooms. Appetizers, soups, and salads make up half the menu, so it’s tempting to fill up fast on seared foie gras with apple bread pudding, generous lobster Cobb salad, stout five-onion soup, or a shellfish ceviche trio. Sharing helps.

In addition to peppering the menu with the provenance of key ingredients, from Petaluma to Idaho to Nova Scotia, The Ranch uses organic produce from owner Edwards’ farm in the Santa Ana Mountains. Oddly, those items aren’t indicated, so do ask about them if you’re curious.

Be sure to check the “chef’s market menu,” four courses of highly seasonal fare (optionally) paired with 3-ounce pours of wine selected by Jordan. One week, the courses are too heavy on sweet elements: Medjool dates pummel the duck pastrami; from-scratch pasta with curried shrimp can’t square with fresh peas, chanterelles, and coconut; and even a sublime Kurobuta pork chop falls prey to the sugary notes of baby onions, sun-dried grapes, and bacon cured with honey and agave syrup. By dessert, even the exquisitely wrought lemon sponge cake with bright tangerines and pomegranate is tough to love because I’m suffering sweet fatigue.

Main courses often shine. Smoked Jidori chicken is a plump, pretty half-bird scented with smoldering maplewood, sitting on a puddle of fresh thyme jus. A rustic, beautifully proportioned bread salad with seasonal greens reveals Rossi’s Italian roots. “Sweet and sticky” spareribs are peel-off-the-bone tender, with a spring bean-and-radish salad for crunchy, tangy assistance. Unctuous Muscovy duck-leg confit takes a detour to France, complete with earthy lentils flecked with house-cured meat and tender baby root vegetables. And though prime rib isn’t always on the menu, you can order it just the way you like since the kitchen packs a high-tech oven that roasts and holds meat at stable heat and humidity levels. Rosy Skuna Bay salmon lives up to its elite status with deep flavors that blossom with careful poaching, so simpatico with a hint of fresh tangerine. Black quinoa provides chewy, fluffy starch, dotted with the jade green of pistachios.

Dessert lovers are in for some treats. David Rossi’s S’more With a Twist recalls the dense, deconstructed delight he offered at Ambrosia before its closing. Strawberry shortcake also reboots a classic, this time pairing moist tres leches cake with the ever-extraordinary Harry’s Berries from Oxnard and a quenelle of hypercreamy caramelized white chocolate. Tahitian vanilla crème brûlée is lovely, but those lemon poppy seed madeleines had me at first bite.

The Ranch is a dazzling enterprise that sprang up in the commercial flatlands of Anaheim, and its genesis recalls aspects of Walt Disney’s midcentury gamble. When completed, Jordan imagines cigars on the penthouse patio after feasts in the private dining rooms. “We’ll be as high as the Disneyland fireworks,” he predicts. A fitting forecast for a venture with its boots on the ground and stars in it sights.

Best Dishes
Popovers, grilled artichokes, sweet potato gnocchi, Skuna Bay salmon, spareribs, duck-leg confit, prime rib, smoked free-range chicken, lobster Cobb salad, crème brûlée, seasonal desserts.

Price Range
Starters, $6 to $20; entreés,
$19 to $54; chef’s market menu,
$65, $35 added for paired wine flight.

Best Tables
Raised booths on west wall.

Two-Step Spoken Here
The Saloon offers free lessons, plus dancing Wednesday through Sunday; live acts weekly. Admission is free on nonconcert nights, after dining, with an approved receipt

Extron Electronics Corp. Headquarters
1025 E. Ball Road, Anaheim, 714-817-4200 theranch.com
Two-and-a-Half Stars

Photograph by Priscilla Iezzi

This article originally appeared in the July 2012 issue.

Main Course: Cucina Enoteca

Gretchen Kurz — Mon, 18 Jun 2012 18:29:00 GMT

You can’t help but notice the great alfresco seating as you enter Irvine’s Cucina Enoteca, open since December. A metal pergola frames the olive branches that shade two roomy, kick-back patios within earshot of a splashing fountain, a fine setting for summer feasts of chopped

vegetable salads, salumi, and cheeses by the platter, washed down with bountiful glasses of chilly rosé.

Then we walk and walk into the cavernous dining room, to a table near the open kitchen. It’s damn cold, so no outdoor dining tonight. The kitchen’s metallic roundelay, the happy hum of the near-full room, and my talky compadres shift my focus to the task at hand—perusing a large single-sheet menu that’s a Byzantine anthology of dishes and drinks. On the antsy waiter’s third try for an order, we select beer and a bottle of wine to keep him occupied.

We start with one vasi (jar) and some antipasti items. Minutes later the table is laden with fried squash blossoms, frito misto, and a mini-Mason jar filled with chilled gorgonzola walnut mousse, alongside toasted bread green-gold with olive oil. Overly cold, the cheese spread warms while we dive into the piping-hot fried fare. Crunchy batter and mouth-filling ricotta eclipse the blossoms’ fragility. A swipe through a dribble of pesto and lemon aioli only further quashes them. A mix of sizzling calamari, shrimp, cauliflower, and asparagus makes for tasty dunking in caper-studded aioli. Light and not greasy, the pale, tempuralike batter is scented with truffle oil, a cliché gesture from a kitchen that surely knows better.

A chopped-vegetable salad with yellow beans, cucumber, and tomato is clean and simple, a palate cleanser of sorts. Classic Margherita pizza with house-made mozzarella doesn’t set the bar terribly high in this day of artisan pizza worship. Cracker-crisp throughout, it lacks the complexity and primal aromas of wood-fire cooking. The eggplant, goat cheese, and pistachio toppings get a kiss of caramelization from honey-roasting the eggplant. On Thrifty Thursdays, one of many day-of-the-week specials, pizzas are half-price from 5 to 6 p.m.

Pastas are a sweet spot on the menu. The shapes are wisely paired to their sauces, and many are made from scratch. Pointy curls of cavatelli cradle a gentle sugo of new garlic and fresh sorrel that also blesses morsels of gutsy duck confit; shavings of ricotta salata supply a salty tang. Risotto carbonara in a deep bowl is nice and hot, the better to cook a daffodil egg yolk that needs only a few swirls to incorporate. Yes, the raw, fresh peas throughout don’t thrill me (I’m a carbonara purist), but chewy, porky pancetta sets the precisely stirred rice just right.

Pappardelle with braised short rib and creminis is robust and rustic, a fill-the-belly peasant classic. Bucatini all’amatriciana is properly spicy with a fatty chew of house-cured guanciale and enough tomato and onion to keep your taste buds up for the next bite. I hear raves over the ricotta gnudi (gnocchi made of ricotta) in browned sage butter, but these six balls are chewy, gluey, and taste slightly raw. I’ll try again, but not without a back-up dish.

Brandt Farms rib-eye boasts a deep char with a near-red warm center. Carved into thick slices, the well-trimmed meat looks lean but brims with intense savory beefiness. A side salad of artichoke, watercress, and pecorino easily outshines the mealy potatoes splashed with a wan green herb sauce; they’re billed as roasted on the menu, although I can’t taste why. Grilled Berkshire pork with cider reduction is a great chop, plump and luscious, with an entourage of braised cippolini onions and sweet apples. “Burnt” Brussels sprouts is a side I cannot leave alone, the crispy edged sweet green buds soar with flavor when swirled in a fiery orange sauce with a vaguely creamy texture. They should bottle and sell the stuff.

Upgrades and sales pitches appear alongside various menu items: Mason jar spreads to-go, add $3; upsize salads to a family-style portion for $10; fennel sausage on any pizza for an extra $1.50. A small loaf of fresh focaccia is $2, or $6 if you add the pesto go-with.

And then there are the shelves of wine for sale that on close inspection reveal many rows of duplicates for a not-so-vast selection. Keep in mind that wine list prices don’t reflect the $8 corkage fee. So add that if you plan to drink it with dinner.

All this hustling seems tame after being told that many of the restaurant’s eccentric, hand-hewn furnishings also are for sale (price list at the hostess station). Those comfy barrel chairs? $306.

Lulu De Rouen, who captained Pinot Provence after a stint at West Hollywood’s Fig & Olive, is chef de cuisine. Here, working under executive chef Joe Magnanelli of Urban Kitchen Group in San Diego, her menu is a near copy of Cucina Urbana, the older sib in that city. At this high-volume 285-seat house, De Rouen’s merry moxie is tough to detect through all the layers of staff and corporate folderol.

Still, she helms the huge kitchen well, and already is working on creations for the forthcoming rotisserie. Cucina Enoteca is a promising player on Irvine Spectrum’s massive stage, a newcomer with lots of good fare and plenty of appeal. I’m booking my alfresco summer table weeks in advance, and I’m sure I’m not alone.

Best Dishes
Salumi trio, gorgonzola mousse, frito misto, chopped salad, baby beet and ricotta salad, risotto carbonara, ricotta cavatelli with duck, bucatini all’amatriciana, short rib pappardelle, Brussels sprouts, Brandt Farms rib-eye, Berkshire pork chop, seasonal fruit tart, affogato.

Price Range
Starters, $6.50 to $14.50; pizza and pastas, $13 to $19; entreés, $16.50 to $29.

Best Tables
Patio, weather-depending; four-tops in dining room center; “trough” table for large parties.

Beware
Reservations are limited to off-peak times, so walk-ins should expect to be sent to the bar to await a table.

FYI
Wines sold in the “market” are decent values to go; $8 corkage to open at your table.

31 Fortune Drive, Irvine, 949-861-2222, cucinaenoteca.com
Two-and-a-Half Stars

Photograph by Priscilla Iezzi

This article originally appeared in the June 2012 issue.