What is the strangest thing you have ever eaten? Ants from Columbia? Pancreas from Spain? Cow heart from Peru? Deep fried grilled cheese from the Kern County Fair?
Alternatively, if you are not that kind of eater or have not tried such culinary oddities, what is one food you would never eat?
Sunday, September 28, 2014
WEEK THREE READING
This is somewhat funny and is about food, so enjoy!
More people probably hate me than I realize. It's not because I'm a bad person—although I am— but instead it's because of my being a food writer. Chefs hate food writers and they are right to hate them. Most of their reasons are good ones; here are nine of them. By the way, these apply to all food writers, but to critics in particular, who are objects of special loathing to chefs.
Nine Good Reasons All Chefs Hate All Food Writers
More people probably hate me than I realize. It's not because I'm a bad person—although I am— but instead it's because of my being a food writer. Chefs hate food writers and they are right to hate them. Most of their reasons are good ones; here are nine of them. By the way, these apply to all food writers, but to critics in particular, who are objects of special loathing to chefs.
1. Who Watches the Watchmen?
Adam Gopnik, writing about gastronomy in the New Yorker in 2005, made a statement of such clarity and force that I sat up straight in my bed: "All artists in all fields despise all critics all the time." As a writer, there was nothing that made me seethe like the patronizing feedback of bad writers who had managed upward into an editor position. "I think what you're trying to say here..." is no worse than "an uninspired ramen shows hardly any effort whatsoever." And it doesn't have to be an officially sanctioned critic. Anybody who can type can write critically about them, including mooks they wouldn't let clean the bathroom.
Adam Gopnik, writing about gastronomy in the New Yorker in 2005, made a statement of such clarity and force that I sat up straight in my bed: "All artists in all fields despise all critics all the time." As a writer, there was nothing that made me seethe like the patronizing feedback of bad writers who had managed upward into an editor position. "I think what you're trying to say here..." is no worse than "an uninspired ramen shows hardly any effort whatsoever." And it doesn't have to be an officially sanctioned critic. Anybody who can type can write critically about them, including mooks they wouldn't let clean the bathroom.
2. The Hit
To add injury to insult, restaurants take a bigger hit than most people realize when they have a food writer come in. The three remaining expense-account critics in the country have the power to inflict more damage, but they at least pay their own way. 95% of the other writers—soon to be 100%—get comped. The cost of the food is the smallest part of the comp. The restaurant loses the table for at least a turn, which means they lose all of the money that table would spend. And if the writer lingers, orders big wines, or gets there late, the pain only gets worse.
To add injury to insult, restaurants take a bigger hit than most people realize when they have a food writer come in. The three remaining expense-account critics in the country have the power to inflict more damage, but they at least pay their own way. 95% of the other writers—soon to be 100%—get comped. The cost of the food is the smallest part of the comp. The restaurant loses the table for at least a turn, which means they lose all of the money that table would spend. And if the writer lingers, orders big wines, or gets there late, the pain only gets worse.
3. You Have To Be Nice To Them.
Everybody I meet as a writer is nice to me, and I was for many years weak minded enough to actually think that I was, at long last, popular and well-liked. Far from it! The more a chef is forced to feign warm delight at a writer's appearance, the more he or she will hate them. It's only human nature to rebel, violently, against such mummery. Just think of all the angry breakups that follow long periods of false harmony.
Everybody I meet as a writer is nice to me, and I was for many years weak minded enough to actually think that I was, at long last, popular and well-liked. Far from it! The more a chef is forced to feign warm delight at a writer's appearance, the more he or she will hate them. It's only human nature to rebel, violently, against such mummery. Just think of all the angry breakups that follow long periods of false harmony.
4. They Literally Have No Idea What They Are Talking About.
One of the biggest and most obnoxious fallacies of food writing is the way the whole thing revolves around the writer's perspective. A restaurant, to the Writer's Gaze, appears simply as a series of plates that appear on the table, delivered by friendly young people. The enormous effort behind them is totally out of sight, as is the fact that the dish the writer eats is one of dozens made that night, all of which vary slightly in quality. Add to this most writers' near-total ignorance of restaurant economics and staffing, and the restaurant is in the position of being subjected to the prejudices of an unwelcome and unformed mind.
One of the biggest and most obnoxious fallacies of food writing is the way the whole thing revolves around the writer's perspective. A restaurant, to the Writer's Gaze, appears simply as a series of plates that appear on the table, delivered by friendly young people. The enormous effort behind them is totally out of sight, as is the fact that the dish the writer eats is one of dozens made that night, all of which vary slightly in quality. Add to this most writers' near-total ignorance of restaurant economics and staffing, and the restaurant is in the position of being subjected to the prejudices of an unwelcome and unformed mind.
5. Their Entitlement
Because writers have so much unearned power, and because they are so used to everybody kissing their ass, they begin, inevitably, to take such treatment for granted. A whole nosegay of privileges that would be unthinkable to a civilian diner—primo reservations on short notice, chatting with the chef, getting as much time as you want with the wine guy, getting things out of order, or in cut portions—are merely the basic terms of the relationship between writer and chef. How can that not rankle?
Because writers have so much unearned power, and because they are so used to everybody kissing their ass, they begin, inevitably, to take such treatment for granted. A whole nosegay of privileges that would be unthinkable to a civilian diner—primo reservations on short notice, chatting with the chef, getting as much time as you want with the wine guy, getting things out of order, or in cut portions—are merely the basic terms of the relationship between writer and chef. How can that not rankle?
6. Their Fickleness
Even if a writer isn't prejudiced and misinformed, which they nearly always are, their worthless opinions are rarely even held strongly by themselves. They pick up some random object of their fulsome praise, and then drop him into permanent obscurity as soon as the next pretty boy comes along.
Even if a writer isn't prejudiced and misinformed, which they nearly always are, their worthless opinions are rarely even held strongly by themselves. They pick up some random object of their fulsome praise, and then drop him into permanent obscurity as soon as the next pretty boy comes along.
7. What Phonies They Are
Writers are big phonies. They tell you how much they loved everything, and how awesome you are, and then either never write about you, or write slightingly. Faint praise is in its way even more maddening that out-and-out hectoring, if only because the latter at least gives a chef the full attention he thinks he deserves.
Writers are big phonies. They tell you how much they loved everything, and how awesome you are, and then either never write about you, or write slightingly. Faint praise is in its way even more maddening that out-and-out hectoring, if only because the latter at least gives a chef the full attention he thinks he deserves.
8. They Have Power, Even the Bad Ones
Writers have power to help or hurt restaurants—even the weakest and least qualified of them. Any asshole with a platform can do more to help or hurt his business than even the most loyal of customers.
Writers have power to help or hurt restaurants—even the weakest and least qualified of them. Any asshole with a platform can do more to help or hurt his business than even the most loyal of customers.
9. They Are Dumb
Many writers are dumb and, like all dumb people, they think they are smart because they are too dumb to know otherwise. These people are grenades primed to explode if their infant minds are rubbed the wrong way for any reason whatsoever.
Many writers are dumb and, like all dumb people, they think they are smart because they are too dumb to know otherwise. These people are grenades primed to explode if their infant minds are rubbed the wrong way for any reason whatsoever.
Chefs—and by extension GMs, owners, line cooks, and everybody else who depends upon the restaurant for their livelihood—are typically men or women of spirit, and frequently artists in their own way. Nothing could be more natural than for them to feel a powerful antipathy to their would-be judges. Unfortunately for them, there's nothing they can do about it. I feel for them.
WEEK THREE WRITING ABOUT WHAT YOU READ
No need to write about what you read this week since you will be writing those fabulous restaurant reviews.
Saturday, September 27, 2014
RESTAURANT REVIEW ASSIGNMENT
RESTAURANT REVIEW: DUE October 4th
Go to any restaurant. As you eat, take notes on the ambiance, the food, and the service. You may choose any restaurant (from Taco Bell to Café Med), but you should use this writing assignment to explore your descriptive capabilities. Use sound, touch, taste, smell, and the look of the food and surroundings. The review should be approximately two to three pages in length(double-spaced). You may use the first-person in this review. And in fact, you should include something about the social experience of eating. What part did your company play in making this an essay worthy food experience?
Basically, you should go to a restaurant and capture the experience on paper. You may write this one in a fairly informal tone. This is due on October 4th, by midnight.
HERE'S HOW YOU TURN THIS PAPER IN:
Once your essay is finished, you will upload the final draft at any time on or before the 4th to turnitin.com
If you have not used this site before, you will go to turnitin.com and sign in using your own information. To enroll in the class, you will need the CLASS ID and password. They are below:
CLASS ID: 8775868PASSWORD: english
Once you are signed in, you will click on Restaurant Review, which is the only available assignment right now. You will submit your paper there. That is it. If you have trouble with this, let me know.
Again, that assignment is due on the 4th and will be turned in only at turnitin.com.
Best,
dr. s
Go to any restaurant. As you eat, take notes on the ambiance, the food, and the service. You may choose any restaurant (from Taco Bell to Café Med), but you should use this writing assignment to explore your descriptive capabilities. Use sound, touch, taste, smell, and the look of the food and surroundings. The review should be approximately two to three pages in length(double-spaced). You may use the first-person in this review. And in fact, you should include something about the social experience of eating. What part did your company play in making this an essay worthy food experience?
Basically, you should go to a restaurant and capture the experience on paper. You may write this one in a fairly informal tone. This is due on October 4th, by midnight.
HERE'S HOW YOU TURN THIS PAPER IN:
Once your essay is finished, you will upload the final draft at any time on or before the 4th to turnitin.com
If you have not used this site before, you will go to turnitin.com and sign in using your own information. To enroll in the class, you will need the CLASS ID and password. They are below:
CLASS ID: 8775868PASSWORD: english
Once you are signed in, you will click on Restaurant Review, which is the only available assignment right now. You will submit your paper there. That is it. If you have trouble with this, let me know.
Again, that assignment is due on the 4th and will be turned in only at turnitin.com.
Best,
dr. s
Sunday, September 21, 2014
WEEK TWO BLOG ENTRY
(Remember, write your response, and then come back and respond to others...need a sample? Look at what your classmates wrote about each other's writing last week...brilliant stuff!)
For this week's blog entry, you need only do one thing: DESCRIBE THE SINGLE BEST BITE OF FOOD YOU HAVE EVER HAD.
For me, it would be a root beer braised ribs at a restaurant in NYC called WD-50. It is one of these pricey, ultra modern places. There were about nine plates, each one with only a bite or two. In your description, be sure to include sight, sound, smell, or anything else to help the reader feel the experience of that one brilliant bite of food.
For this week's blog entry, you need only do one thing: DESCRIBE THE SINGLE BEST BITE OF FOOD YOU HAVE EVER HAD.
For me, it would be a root beer braised ribs at a restaurant in NYC called WD-50. It is one of these pricey, ultra modern places. There were about nine plates, each one with only a bite or two. In your description, be sure to include sight, sound, smell, or anything else to help the reader feel the experience of that one brilliant bite of food.
WEEK TWO READING
This is a restaurant review from the LA Times. Look at the way the author inserts herself and the social experience of the visit into the review. It has some great descriptive detail as well.---------------------------------------
June 10, 2010
As friends and I step into Patina, the figures of the hostess, manager, bartender, server and sommelier awake from their enchantment. They move forward, murmur a greeting and lead us to a table in the elegant, modernist dining room. Sometimes it feels as if the entire restaurant has been put into a state of suspended animation by an evil witch called the economy.
At a restaurant where you once had to reserve three weeks in advance, it's now possible to get a prime weekend dinner reservation on a few days' notice. Who knows, maybe even less than that. Not that the restaurant is empty. It's just rarely very full, and I don't get the sense that diners are waiting in the wings for tables. It's not all the economy. The other factor is the dwindling number of people interested in so-called fine dining.
It's a shame.
Because right now Patina has an extraordinary chef in Frenchman Tony Esnault, who has been heading up the kitchen since September. And he is, hands down, the best chef that founder Joachim Splichal has had in years. A Ducasse disciple, Esnault worked with the multi-starred French chef at Louis IV in Monaco and in New York was executive chef both at Ducasse's Essex House and Adour. Esnault's impressive résumé wouldn't matter if his rigorous training and talent didn't show in his cooking.
This latest iteration of Patina sneaks up and reminds the unwary and the jaded just why fine dining matters. The restaurant is a place where everything — the ambience, the service, the food and the wine work seamlessly to create a sense of occasion. It's the time to slow down, to savor the food and the company. A moment outside of the everyday, and a rare indulgence.
Close your eyes. Pay attention to the first bite of the amuse. It might be a tiny bowl of nettle velouté crowned with a buckwheat chip that leaves you wanting more — and more — of the mysteriously earthy and velvety soup. Or it could be an intense lobster bisque with a dab of ivory crème fraiche.
Now just look at his glazed vegetable mosaic. What a breathtaking dish. With an unfaltering sense of color and proportion — and taste — the chef has composed a cityscape of vegetables in a coral-red pool of their cooking juices. There's celeryroot, carrot, a spear of asparagus, turnip, a bull's eye of crimson and white Chioggia beet drizzled with lemon-scented oil. Every bite delivers the essence of this or that vegetable in this whimsical dish.
Round, plump ravioli are filled with finely minced zucchini and cheese and are as beguiling as any I've encountered. Each wears a nubbin of emerald baby zucchini and at the center is a gossamer veil of goat cheese "foam" crowned with the bright gold zucchini blossoms.
The chef certainly has a talent for creating beautiful compositions, marshalling ingredients into geometric precision. Every note he hits rings true. A starter of hamachi (yellowtail) presents a rectangle of the marinated raw fish garnished with razor-thin slices of geoduck clam on one side of the plate with pieces of avocado, crunchy crostini and a green-apple mustard forming vertical lines on the other side. It's decorative, but not decoration. Each element plays against the other, so that depending on how you orchestrate it, each bite of hamachi is different.
A dreamy foie gras terrine arrives as a skinny rectangle. A vein of tart strawberry-rhubarb compote runs down the middle, and for color, the top is glazed in a brilliant scarlet, which echoes the chunks of strawberry and rhubarb forming another long rectangle on the plate. The combination of the fruit with the fat richness of the foie gras makes the dish thoroughly modern.
Bite by bite, I explore artichoke variations ordered à la carte from the vegetarian tasting menu too. Underneath a soft pillow of gray-green artichoke purée and scattered around the plate, are roasted quartered baby artichokes and slices of artichoke so fine they look as if they have been prepared for the microscope in a barigoule jus dotted with emerald parsley purée.
The first time I had Esnault's cooking, I ordered the milk-fed veal rack. And on the last night, I ordered the rack for two just to see if it was as good as I remembered. It definitely is. It's succulent and tender, with delicious gelatinous and caramelized bits, cooked on the bone and carved tableside. The bone is served up on its own little plate. And the veal comes with rounds of carrot and turnip stacked and laid on their side like gambling chips. The slightly thickened jus is perfect.
I'd also recommend the Kurobuta pork with both raw and minced cooked radish and the beautiful rosy squab with a scattering of wild mushrooms and English peas.
Butter-poached lobster is a luscious preparation presented with spring vegetables — haricots verts, crisp snap peas, English peas and tender fava beans in a lobster-intense reduction that never overplays its strength. Barramundi comes just this side of rare with a fresh presentation of pastel beets and hearts of palm. Sole meunière is superb, the fish flown in from Brittany, fresh and firm. The accompaniments are almost austere, simply a line of diced mushrooms and some sautéed mizuna greens.
Patina has always had a well-curated cheese cart. Maybe now the selection is a little smaller, but you can't fault the presentation on a tall, gleaming gueridon, each cheese perfectly ripe. I particularly enjoyed the Époisses from Burgundy and a raw milk tomme from the Alps. There's a similarly beautiful cart for caviar and another for the tea service, with loose-leaf teas in silver and glass canisters.
Sylvestre Fernandes, who has been at Patina since 2000, is the sommelier and he couldn't be a better choice. He's knowledgeable and enthusiastic about wines, but without pretentiousness. And while the wine list still holds some fabulous old and young Bordeaux and Burgundies and California Cabernets, it also features the quirky and exotic wines prized by the new generation of sommeliers. I could be wrong, but wine prices here don't seem so scary-high anymore and if you buy a bottle from the list, the corkage fee is waived for anything you bring from your own cellar.
The service is less brittle than it once was, which makes for a more relaxing evening. But waiters may be a little too attentive with the water. I got a $22 water bill one night without anyone ever asking if we'd like them to open a second and then a third bottle.
Waylynn Lucas, the new dessert chef, has been here only over a month, but she's very good. She'd have to be since she was previously pastry chef at the Bazaar by José Andrés in Beverly Hills. I'm fascinated by the way a tarragon and arugula granité heightens the flavor of strawberries. Or the way toffee and chocolate are welded together in a soft milk chocolate dessert that's subtle and under-sweetened. Tres leches is served up in a dainty portion wearing a soft meringue cap, a lovely tribute to the Caribbean.
Splichal has mentored a good many of L.A.'s top chefs — Octavio Becerra, Walter Manzke, Eric Greenspan, Josiah Citrin and Rafael Lunetta, among others. But Esnault arrives as a fully formed talent with his own ideas about how to meld French techniques with a California sensibility. What I love about his food is its balance and grace. This is quietly confident cooking, delicious by any measure.
And to find it in a restaurant downtown at the Walt Disney Concert Hall makes it even more of a pleasure. Not to forget: Joachim Splichal was one of the first well-known chefs to take a chance on downtown. And now, once again, Patina retakes its position as downtown's flagship restaurant.
Patina
RATING
four stars
LOCATION
141 S. Grand Ave., Los Angeles; ; http://www.patinarestaurant.com.
PRICE
Dinner starters, $18 to $26; main courses, $38 to $46; desserts, $12. Seven-course tasting menu, $120; six-course vegetarian tasting menu, $95. Corkage, $30, waived if you buy a bottle from the list.
DETAILS
Open Tuesday to Saturday from 5 to 9 p.m. and Sunday from 4 to 9 p.m. Supper is served at Patina after all Walt Disney Concert Hall events. Full bar. Valet parking, $8.
Rating is based on food, service and ambience, with price taken into account in relation to quality. Four stars: Outstanding on every level. Three stars: Excellent. Two stars: Very good. One star: Good. No star: Poor to satisfactory.
irene.virbila@latimes.com
The Review: Patina
Fine dining is alive but a bit fragile at Joachim Splichal's downtown spot, where the economy and changing tastes have put a dent in business. But not on the Patina experience.
By S. Irene Virbila, Los Angeles Times Restaurant CriticJune 10, 2010
| Advertisement |
At a restaurant where you once had to reserve three weeks in advance, it's now possible to get a prime weekend dinner reservation on a few days' notice. Who knows, maybe even less than that. Not that the restaurant is empty. It's just rarely very full, and I don't get the sense that diners are waiting in the wings for tables. It's not all the economy. The other factor is the dwindling number of people interested in so-called fine dining.
It's a shame.
Because right now Patina has an extraordinary chef in Frenchman Tony Esnault, who has been heading up the kitchen since September. And he is, hands down, the best chef that founder Joachim Splichal has had in years. A Ducasse disciple, Esnault worked with the multi-starred French chef at Louis IV in Monaco and in New York was executive chef both at Ducasse's Essex House and Adour. Esnault's impressive résumé wouldn't matter if his rigorous training and talent didn't show in his cooking.
This latest iteration of Patina sneaks up and reminds the unwary and the jaded just why fine dining matters. The restaurant is a place where everything — the ambience, the service, the food and the wine work seamlessly to create a sense of occasion. It's the time to slow down, to savor the food and the company. A moment outside of the everyday, and a rare indulgence.
Close your eyes. Pay attention to the first bite of the amuse. It might be a tiny bowl of nettle velouté crowned with a buckwheat chip that leaves you wanting more — and more — of the mysteriously earthy and velvety soup. Or it could be an intense lobster bisque with a dab of ivory crème fraiche.
Now just look at his glazed vegetable mosaic. What a breathtaking dish. With an unfaltering sense of color and proportion — and taste — the chef has composed a cityscape of vegetables in a coral-red pool of their cooking juices. There's celeryroot, carrot, a spear of asparagus, turnip, a bull's eye of crimson and white Chioggia beet drizzled with lemon-scented oil. Every bite delivers the essence of this or that vegetable in this whimsical dish.
Round, plump ravioli are filled with finely minced zucchini and cheese and are as beguiling as any I've encountered. Each wears a nubbin of emerald baby zucchini and at the center is a gossamer veil of goat cheese "foam" crowned with the bright gold zucchini blossoms.
The chef certainly has a talent for creating beautiful compositions, marshalling ingredients into geometric precision. Every note he hits rings true. A starter of hamachi (yellowtail) presents a rectangle of the marinated raw fish garnished with razor-thin slices of geoduck clam on one side of the plate with pieces of avocado, crunchy crostini and a green-apple mustard forming vertical lines on the other side. It's decorative, but not decoration. Each element plays against the other, so that depending on how you orchestrate it, each bite of hamachi is different.
A dreamy foie gras terrine arrives as a skinny rectangle. A vein of tart strawberry-rhubarb compote runs down the middle, and for color, the top is glazed in a brilliant scarlet, which echoes the chunks of strawberry and rhubarb forming another long rectangle on the plate. The combination of the fruit with the fat richness of the foie gras makes the dish thoroughly modern.
Bite by bite, I explore artichoke variations ordered à la carte from the vegetarian tasting menu too. Underneath a soft pillow of gray-green artichoke purée and scattered around the plate, are roasted quartered baby artichokes and slices of artichoke so fine they look as if they have been prepared for the microscope in a barigoule jus dotted with emerald parsley purée.
The first time I had Esnault's cooking, I ordered the milk-fed veal rack. And on the last night, I ordered the rack for two just to see if it was as good as I remembered. It definitely is. It's succulent and tender, with delicious gelatinous and caramelized bits, cooked on the bone and carved tableside. The bone is served up on its own little plate. And the veal comes with rounds of carrot and turnip stacked and laid on their side like gambling chips. The slightly thickened jus is perfect.
I'd also recommend the Kurobuta pork with both raw and minced cooked radish and the beautiful rosy squab with a scattering of wild mushrooms and English peas.
Butter-poached lobster is a luscious preparation presented with spring vegetables — haricots verts, crisp snap peas, English peas and tender fava beans in a lobster-intense reduction that never overplays its strength. Barramundi comes just this side of rare with a fresh presentation of pastel beets and hearts of palm. Sole meunière is superb, the fish flown in from Brittany, fresh and firm. The accompaniments are almost austere, simply a line of diced mushrooms and some sautéed mizuna greens.
Patina has always had a well-curated cheese cart. Maybe now the selection is a little smaller, but you can't fault the presentation on a tall, gleaming gueridon, each cheese perfectly ripe. I particularly enjoyed the Époisses from Burgundy and a raw milk tomme from the Alps. There's a similarly beautiful cart for caviar and another for the tea service, with loose-leaf teas in silver and glass canisters.
Sylvestre Fernandes, who has been at Patina since 2000, is the sommelier and he couldn't be a better choice. He's knowledgeable and enthusiastic about wines, but without pretentiousness. And while the wine list still holds some fabulous old and young Bordeaux and Burgundies and California Cabernets, it also features the quirky and exotic wines prized by the new generation of sommeliers. I could be wrong, but wine prices here don't seem so scary-high anymore and if you buy a bottle from the list, the corkage fee is waived for anything you bring from your own cellar.
The service is less brittle than it once was, which makes for a more relaxing evening. But waiters may be a little too attentive with the water. I got a $22 water bill one night without anyone ever asking if we'd like them to open a second and then a third bottle.
Waylynn Lucas, the new dessert chef, has been here only over a month, but she's very good. She'd have to be since she was previously pastry chef at the Bazaar by José Andrés in Beverly Hills. I'm fascinated by the way a tarragon and arugula granité heightens the flavor of strawberries. Or the way toffee and chocolate are welded together in a soft milk chocolate dessert that's subtle and under-sweetened. Tres leches is served up in a dainty portion wearing a soft meringue cap, a lovely tribute to the Caribbean.
Splichal has mentored a good many of L.A.'s top chefs — Octavio Becerra, Walter Manzke, Eric Greenspan, Josiah Citrin and Rafael Lunetta, among others. But Esnault arrives as a fully formed talent with his own ideas about how to meld French techniques with a California sensibility. What I love about his food is its balance and grace. This is quietly confident cooking, delicious by any measure.
And to find it in a restaurant downtown at the Walt Disney Concert Hall makes it even more of a pleasure. Not to forget: Joachim Splichal was one of the first well-known chefs to take a chance on downtown. And now, once again, Patina retakes its position as downtown's flagship restaurant.
Patina
RATING
four stars
LOCATION
141 S. Grand Ave., Los Angeles; ; http://www.patinarestaurant.com.
PRICE
Dinner starters, $18 to $26; main courses, $38 to $46; desserts, $12. Seven-course tasting menu, $120; six-course vegetarian tasting menu, $95. Corkage, $30, waived if you buy a bottle from the list.
DETAILS
Open Tuesday to Saturday from 5 to 9 p.m. and Sunday from 4 to 9 p.m. Supper is served at Patina after all Walt Disney Concert Hall events. Full bar. Valet parking, $8.
Rating is based on food, service and ambience, with price taken into account in relation to quality. Four stars: Outstanding on every level. Three stars: Excellent. Two stars: Very good. One star: Good. No star: Poor to satisfactory.
irene.virbila@latimes.com
WEEK TWO WRITING ABOUT WHAT YOU READ
What was the single best line of the restaurant review of Patina? Why was that line so appealing?
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