Here’s a mini history lesson: Michel Richard was a hot L.A. chef who started in pastries and went on to open a highly acclaimed restaurant called
Citrus in the ’80s. He’s still a hot, James Beard Award winner, and now resides in D.C. (yes, New York, there are other foodie cities on the East Coast). Recently, he made a highly anticipated return to the L.A. scene by teaming up with restaurant mover-and-shaker Jeffrey Chodorow, who owns, among other glitzy-glam spots around the country, the once-hot
Asia de Cuba and the club/lounge/bar grab-bag that is
Social Hollywood.
This is where the story picks up: Richard has launched Citrus 2.0 in the west wing of the former Hollywood Athletic Club. The hopes, we suppose, are to finally turn this Social scene into a real foodie destination. It’s to Richard’s credit that he has the sense of humor to turn such lofty ambitions into a lighthearted affair.
One look at the menu and you can immediately tell how much fun the kitchen is having. It’s full of wacky items like “Duck, Duck, Orange” and “Escargot in the Garden.” Luckily, each new name is descriptive enough that the intention is clear: They riff on classic French dishes. The most successful, most dream-inducing dish is also the most outlandish: lobster with begula pearls.
Not Beluga, mind you, but
begula—Richard’s made-up term for little pearls of Israeli couscous infused with black squid ink. They end up looking like caviar, Beluga caviar. The begula is served in a tin (meant to look as if you picked it up from Dean and Deluca), which rests on a blissful bed of poached egg and lobster in clarified butter. It’s cute and it’s incredible. Not that all the kitchen’s experiments turn out that well, unfortunately. The cuttlefish carbonara smells a lot like someone’s mom’s tuna noodle casserole, but mock fettuccine made from strips of chewy cuttlefish doesn’t taste as good—and that’s really, really saying something.
Crazy concoctions aside, can Citrus cook? While the entrées aren’t as fun-tastic as the rest of the menu, they do showcase the basics. The simplest item, roasted chicken, is perfectly done—and it comes with tater tots! So yes, the kitchen knows what it’s doing. But why, oh why, does Citrus think its diners are so ign’ant?
The servers are surely instructed to explain every little menu item to death, which can get a little insulting. Yes, we know what
gougeres are—duh, we watch “Top Chef.” And it’s not just the servers: The wines by the glass are listed according to “intensity.” Dude, let us pretend to know what we’re doing when we order the grape juice, 'kay? A little trust from our fine-dining establishments would be nice—although Citrus demands a fax of both sides of my credit card to finalize the reservation. If my identity is thieved, I’ll know who to blame.
But I got tater tots. All is forgiven.
Food: Kooky French. Order something that sounds weird—you may just love it.
Scene: A little bit of everyone—everyone with money to burn, that is.
Insider tip: The restaurant shares the bathroom in the bar next door; it’s a good exit strategy on a claustrophobic date—unless you’re Britney.
Katherine Spiers is a contributing editor for Metromix Los Angeles.
