A.O.C. The cheese-and-charcuterie-intensive inspiration for basically all of the new generation of wine bars, Suzanne Goin's A.O.C. is the kind of place you drop into for a glass of Cassis and maybe a bit of octopus, then a glass of Sancerre and a few grilled sardines, then a glass of Friulian Tocai and a plate of sliced prosciutto, then a glass of Corbieres and the tiniest plate of skewered grilled lamb with mint. Unless you were in the mood for the bacon-wrapped dates with Parmesan on the bar menu, which would go so nicely with one of those big southern Italian reds, or a ripe Crozier blue with a late-bottled port, or whatever creature comes with a bit of Goin's romesco sauce, or quite possibly the 12-hour pork belly. You could drink and eat like this all night if you remembered to make a reservation — and if A.O.C. didn't unreasonably stop serving at 11. 8022 W. Third St., L.A., (323) 653-6359. Mon.-Fri. 6-11 p.m., Sat. 5:30-11 p.m., Sun. 5:30-10 p.m. Wine bar. Valet parking. AE, MC, V. French-Mediterranean-influenced small plates.
Bastide To the small, food-obsessed population of Angelenos who know the difference between a sliver of Jabugo ham and a chunk of mere jamon serrano, Bastide is the Montrachet-slinging equivalent of Willy Wonka's chocolate factory, with Space Jam auteur Joe Pytka, its mad proprietor, taking the place of the estimable Mr. Wonka. After months on hiatus, Pytka reopened the doors with Walter Manzke, an ex-Patina chef, taking over the range, and Pieter Verheyde, the former sommelier at Ducasse in New York, and Paris, assuming control of the wine list (see more in main essay). The menu is prix-fixe, $100 for seven courses; another $100 or $190, depending on how far you want to go, lets you experience Verheyde's eccentric wine pairing, which is one of the best shows in town. As in the last incarnation of Bastide, the food wobbles on the edge between familiarity and utter weirdness, things like deconstructed lobster tacos, abalone noodle soup, oyster shooters with wasabi ice and cylinders of roasted Beijing duck. Many, many cheeses. Dessert. A fifth or sixth glass of wine, probably a vintage port. And then out on the street. 8475 Melrose Place, West Hollywood, (323) 651-5950. Tues.-Sat. 6 p.m.-10 p.m. Valet parking. All major CC. American/French.
Blue Velvet Wrapped around a glowing swimming pool that turns every vantage into a David Hockney painting, Blue Velvet is a hyperdesigned lounge fitted into the ground floor of a former Holiday Inn, with the cool blues of Staples Center and the financial-district skyscrapers just beyond. Some of the herbs and vegetables are harvested from an organic rooftop garden overlooking the Harbor Freeway. The well-priced wine list includes hard-to-fine things like Failla Chardonnay and Denis Alaray's delicious Cairanne. From a spot by the window, downtown is as glamorous as the view from a penthouse in a Fred Astaire picture. It is doubtful, though, that Astaire ever dined on deep-fried yogurt balls with pureed greens and raisins, or on a vaguely Malaysian squid salad with kumquats, or on a Thai-flavored roast duck accompanied by its tempura-fried liver, or on smoked tofu with black lentils and cherry tomatoes. Kris Morningstar, who did stints at Patina, A.O.C. and the late Meson G, is the chef at Blue Velvet, and his engaged if inconsistent version of the eclectic world cuisine thing ranges over more of the globe than Angelina Jolie. I especially like the squab crepinette, which involves rare slices of the breast arranged over a sort of pillowlike sausage stuffed with pureed corn bread, pureed mushrooms and bits of the bird's own liver cooked into what tastes a little like Thanksgiving dinner on a small plate. 750 S. Garland Ave., L.A., (213) 239-0061. Mon.-Fri. 11:30 a.m.-2:30 p.m., Sun.-Thurs. 5:30-10:30 p.m., Fri.-Sat. 5:30-11 p.m. Bar open daily 4 p.m.-2 a.m. Full bar. Valet parking. AE, MC, V. California contemporary.
Bottle Rock The tables at Bottle Rock are the size of phonograph records, and the wobbly metal stools seem perpetually on the verge of collapse. The location, tucked behind a parking structure, is obscure, even if it is just a step or two from Culver City's new restaurant row. But Bottle Rock, which doubles as a wine shop, is among the most appealing of the wine bars that have opened on the Westside — because of the house-made pates, because of the tomato bread and the pressed sandwiches, because of the cheese board, but mostly because of the wine, which tends to be obscure, well chosen and reasonably priced. The proprietors will open any bottle in the shop, from a simple California white to an aged Barolo, if you commit to two glasses of the stuff, and the chalkboard list of available wines can change 20 times a night. The little grilled chorizos are delicious. And there is always something good to drink for $5 a glass. After a screening at Sony or a show at one of the local theaters, Bottle Rock is the perfect place to kick it. 3847 Main St., Culver City, (310) 836-WINE. Mon.-Thurs. 11 a.m.-11 p.m., Fri.-Sat. 11 a.m.-mid. Beer, wine. Lot parking. All major CC. American/French.
