The last time the formal gate on Melrose Place was open, we heard some nonsense or other about gummi bear emulsion, a maverick toque pulling massive fish out of the ocean with his bare hands and review stars being yanked away. Nearly two closely-observed years later,
Bastide’s modish monogram was finally relit and those double wooden doors ceremoniously flung wide open, like portals to the south of France.
An early press photo of the new dining room had caused a tizzy within the blogosphere. In person, the effect was no less eccentric: black-and-white checkerboard flooring, glass bead curtains, a full wall of Mao Zedong prints. Vertical tree limbs jutted out from the wall behind us; various
objets de flea market perched precariously at each apex. We get it; it’s whimsy on a Howard-Hughes-in-Provence tip.
The menu was equally playful and cryptic. Unlike the tendency to hyper-explain every last element and method of preparation, the oversized, parchment-like handbill listed the course progression in monolithic categories: "pomodoro," "crab," "fish," "meat & potatoes." The hint of mystery was coy. We were left completely to chef Walter Manzke’s fancy; and perhaps due to limited inventory, the “crab” course ended up being a lobster four ways—not that we’re complaining.
Lobster was the star of the evening, and its opening number may well have been the best. “Deconstructed lobster taco” our server rolled off his tongue as he placed the rectangular plate before us. The appetizer trio began on the right—as most trios do—with "salsa," a clear, viscous liquid that tasted like the pure essence of tomato with a single tortilla strip balanced across the lip of the shot glass. A bite of lobster on an elongated fork and a tequila-lime sorbet shooter completed the threesome. It was as sparse as it sounds, simply perfection.
As chef Manzke explained when we paid our respects after the seven-course bonanza, the first few courses were avant-garde flights that segued into more traditional entrées of poached sea bass in a truffle cream sauce or rib eye roast with chanterelles and more lobster. But his point of view shined brightest in attentive riffs on the simplest dishes. A side helping of tempura sparkled in an untraditional salty coat, and heavily smoked salt was set for self-sprinkling. The kitchen really does know how to work with this most underrated of seasonings—gummi bears, it is not, but we think it's all the better that way.
Food: Playful and eclectic in two prix-fixe menus only—$80 for four courses; $20 more gets you three more courses and an additional hour at your table. Wine pairings are an additional $50 and $80, respectively. You do the math.
Scene: Intimate—the dining room only seats about 30 max—upscale and extremely foodie. We heard nearby tables discuss the chef’s techniques and debate wine choices with sommelier Pieter Verheyde.
Park the car: With the valet. It’s complementary.
Insider Tip: Don’t make plans to go out afterward. You may well be there, happily, until 2 a.m.
Katherine Spiers is contributing editor for Metromix Los Angeles.
