(Credit: Shane Redsar)
The Park plays up the little details, such as the large bottle of water that’s left at every table. Soda selections are limited to glass bottles of Coke, Orangina and limonata—all sure signs of a restaurant that wants to keep things classy. The empty frames decorating the walls are surprisingly stylish, but the nicest touch of all is the service. The servers are knowledgeable about the menu and totally professional, almost as if they weren’t struggling actors.
There's no gaudy display of celebrity, either. The scene is low-key, more like a place for the kids who aren’t too cool to come play at being grown-ups. (Well, except for the one woman eating with her hands, who clearly thought she was being earthy and sensual. It looked like her date didn't agree.) Misguided flirting aside, the dining room is hip but still inviting.
The menu is a comfort too; small, but with something for everyone. We would normally assume, when faced with offerings that run the gamut from Indian to Mexican to Italian (yet none of it fusion), that the kitchen is in disarray. Not here. The salads are good, and the hanger steak is a standout—especially impressive since it's a cut that's notoriously difficult to cook well.
The unexciting vegetable curry with a soggy pappadam is a good indication that the menu would benefit from editing, the better to highlight the chef’s strengths. A dedicated pastry chef wouldn’t be a bad idea either: The only thing that truly breaks our hearts is the butterscotch pudding tart, which may as well be a called nothing-doing tart given the absolute lack of flavor. It's a good thing we’re in Echo Park and can hit up that churro truck nearby.
Food: Small but global menu—just don't expect fusion.
Scene: Hipsters on their best behavior.
Insider tip: No alcohol yet, but feel free to BYO: There's no corkage fee.
Katherine Spiers is a contributing editor for Metromix Los Angeles.




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