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The stretch of La Cienega Boulevard between the Beverly Center and Melrose Avenue, as a general rule of thumb, offers limited culinary diversions. In fact, before chef David Myers planted his seminal Sona restaurant (and eventually one of L.A.’s premier bakeries in Boule), the most eye-catching establishment along the block was a now-defunct Acapulco, housed in a white Spanish villa-like structure that still lies hauntingly fallow. So how does a place like Ronin Izakaya Bistro, which garnered nearly 60 glowing reviews on Yelp in the first six months of business, attract so much online love?
The low-profile storefront is practically invisible at night, confounded by the hot-pink neon of the strip club next door. It takes a few passes before we locate the address; we then drive off to look for parking, tragically unaware there’s a free lot in back. The interior is even smaller than expected. Every part of the room—the bustling open kitchen, the counter lined with ceremonial samurai swords, the earth-toned, woven banners—falls within a single line of vision. That also means everyone else can see who comes and goes, something the staff takes advantage of by calling out greetings at the slightest bit of movement.
Hospitality seems to be the point at Ronin, the incongruously named bistro. (Regarding the bistro moniker, the menu unhelpfully explains, “Its origination is Europe.”) The environment is warm and congenial; a samurai film flickers against the widest wall like a home movie. Upon our query, the most knowledgeable person is sent over to talk to us about the evening’s selection, "Zatoichi" (the original from 1989, not the 2003 remake). Ronin aims to be a neighborhood spot—a bistro, if you will—and the owners (Scott Higa, James Kwak and Samuel Kwak) have trained the staff well. The servers are young and a bit green, but it’s abundantly clear each is eager to please—and we’ll take that over cold precision any day.
Sincerity even compels our cute-as-a-button server to nervously advise us against the braised Kurobuta pork belly: “Well, it’s good, everything here is good, but it’s just not, you know, my favorite.” We assure her that because it’s integral to our izakaya experience, we’ll order it anyway. And she’s right, the dish is a dud. The shoyu broth is light and flavorful, but the pork needs to be cooked longer until the protein is broken down into a true braise.
The menu itself holds no allegiance to traditional forms of izakaya. Apple chutney accompanies the Kurobuta; seared tuna is perched atop a Southwestern-spiced tortilla chip; a heavily dressed spring salad seems to garnish every plate. It’s all a bit much, really. Other items adopt the pronounced spices of China, most notably a popular fried rice dish and a version of karaage accented with curry powder. The protein is fattier than likely intended, and coupled with the fragrant spice, our fried chicken ends up tasting more like duck.
Fusion efforts aside, the highlight of the evening is the agedashi tofu. At Ronin, the silken tofu is cut into disks (an elegant touch), deep-fried and served in a spicy dashi-based broth. Even with the added kick of jalapeños, the dish is restrained and beautifully balanced—the best interpretation we’ve had in a long while.
Before our evening ends, we’re reminded again of Ronin’s strong suit: Higa approaches and asks about our meal. Having heard of our dissatisfaction with the pork belly (oops, bad poker face), he informs us it’s already been taken off our bill. Ah, yes. We think we see what all the yelping is about.
Food: Izakaya-esque. XL-sized small plates, more fusion than strictly Asian. Respectable sake and beer selection.
Scene: Diverse and unassuming. Couples of all ages, nuclear families with teenagers, professionals. We’re expecting a runoff of folks who can’t get into Izaka-ya by Katsu-ya to eventually find their way here.
Insider tip: There’s a free lot in back; ’nuff said.
Jiyeon Yoo is Restaurants editor for Metromix Los Angeles.
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