(Credit: Shane Redsar)
Still, I head off to Mes Amis, the new brasserie that’s shouldered half the “accursed” expanse of the Asian fusion lounge whose only point of pride these days is the comic stylings of Metromix–girl crush Natasha Leggero every Monday night—that, and encouraging more “What’s up” references than a Bud commercial.
It’s a cold December Saturday, and I’m looking for a classic brasserie brunch—something that neither Comme Ça nor the dud that is Mode could offer me on this particular weekend. The white stucco patio with its brightly colored chairs looks very Mediterranean and very inviting, but there’s only one heating lamp in the corner. Did I mention how cold it is?
The brunch menu is concise: four to five selections of salads and sandwiches, seven egg dishes, a cheese plate and a handful of “petit” plates for the kiddies. An impressive beer and wine list is also placed at my table. Stellar. Granted, it was after noon, but the possibility of having vino even in the morning hours left me just as giddy as the cranmosa I eventually order. (I forget to ask whether the bubbly is real champagne, but there’s plenty of it as the mere blush of pink indicates a scant proportion of cranberry juice.)
My eggs “anyway” come perfectly poached, although they cry out for salt. I ask if there’s bread. To his credit, my server doesn't call me une gauche Americaine and instead gently indicates that the stack of Lyonnaise potatoes is the starch. Good thing, because it’s deliciously starchy. Despite the couple pits left in the tapenade—proof, I guess, that it’s house-made—the Mes Amis sandwich of seared tuna, artichoke and oven-dried tomatoes is a worthy namesake that skews a bit Californian, appropriately enough. The kitchen also produces excellent fries, but that’s an additional $4.
And there’s the rub. Prices at Mes Amis aren’t outrageous. I’ve doled out far more for much less. Yet, having to order a side of fries for a $15 sandwich is jarring—in my mind, at least—for the neighborhood. There’s a more significant jump in dinner entrées, which go as high as $31 for filet mignon or a trio of rabbit. It is French cuisine after all, but how will it sit with Los Felizians?
The point isn’t lost on owner Chip Garamella. It’s not the usual Metromix policy, but I unexpectedly speak with the longtime Eastsider who hopes to create a neighborhood space for locals to linger over food made from quality ingredients—hence, the unavoidable prices. It’s familiar restaurant–speak, but his earnestness is particularly infectious. More importantly, Garamella has experience to back him up: He and his wife/co-owner, Laurence Ponzone, managed just-up-the-block Figaro Bistro at the peak of its popularity. And that kind of street cred may be just what's needed to make longtime friends in this ‘hood—and break the *eye-roll* curse.
Food: Provençal cuisine—Ponzone was born and raised in Nice—which is more rustic and less austere than traditional French food. Think terrines, bouillabaisse, roasted meats and galettes de pain, a.k.a. pizzas.
Scene: Roomy interior of upholstered leather booths and banquettes to while away an afternoon with wine and cabaret tunes.
Insider tip: The parking lot is easy to miss. The entryway is immediately north of Tiger Lily, but don't mistake it for the larger adjacent lot for Il Capriccio.
Jiyeon Yoo is Restaurants editor for Metromix Los Angeles.
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