Ciudad
Ciudad, the pan-Latin outpost of Mary Sue Milliken and Susan Feniger, may be all things to all people but especially to all people whose pleasures include upending an oyster or two, digging into a ceviche plate and bending an elbow every now and then: There are strong mojitos, mellow Pisco sours and an inspiring collection of rum to go along with the Bolivian-style tamales, Caribbean paella and a classic pescado Veracruzana, the Bahia-style moqueqas and a fritanga that would knock them silly in Managua. Daytime is for office workers; at night, two-thirds of the customers are dressed in black. 445 S. Figueroa St., dwntwn., (213) 486-5171. Mon.-Tues. 11:30 a.m.-9 p.m., Wed.-Thurs. 11:30 a.m.-10 p.m., Fri. 11:30 a.m.-11 p.m., Sat. 5-11 p.m., Sun. 5-9 p.m. Full bar. Takeout. Valet parking. AE, D, MC, V. Pan-Latino.
Anne Fishbein
A slice of Cut
Anne Fishbein
Cooking sharp, Octavio Becrra
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That Happy Roar: Comme Ça
David Myers’ stylish brasserie is a sleek, theatrically lit restaurant that has the look of an ancient dining room restored to use; it’s all black and white, lined with mirrors, filled with actual French speakers and smartly dressed citizens of the local design community. The oysters are briny, crisp and alive. The house-made terrines and pâtés are first-rate. There are snails in garlic butter and frisée salads with bacon and poached eggs, choucroute garni on Wednesdays and braised pork belly on Saturdays. The bread, including the wonderful sweet baguettes and hamburger buns, comes from Myers’ bakery, Boule. The wine list includes French village vintages that are uncannily appropriate with the food; the house carafe is a decent Côtes du Rhône. And there’s the roar, that great, happy roar of music and clattering plates and people with a little too much wine in them, and the sense that somebody, somewhere in the restaurant, is having the most memorable evening of her life. Comme Ça aims to be all things to all people, open early for croissants and coffee and late for oysters and champagne, serving formal entrées like sole meunière and roasted pork chops with apples, and bistro classics like steak-frites and lemony skate grenobloise with capers and brown butter. Is there good onion soup? A great one, informed but not overwhelmed by its gooey mantle of melted Gruyère. 8479 Melrose Ave., W. Hlywd., (323) 782-1178 or www.commecarestaurant.com. Open daily 8 a.m.-11 p.m. Full bar. Valet parking. AE, MC, V.
Cora’s Coffee Shoppe
A few years ago, Cora’s was still a crusty, hash-brown-intensive beach café. Bruce Marder, owner of the pricey Italian restaurant Capo next door, transformed the place into a lunch counter out of a GQ shoot: a patio shaded with crimson bougainvillea, a burbling Tuscan fountain, the distant crashing of the surf — sometimes you want a chef’s salad, and sometimes you want an insalata caprese made with farmers-market tomatoes and oozingly creamy burrata cheese; sometimes you need ham ’n’ eggs the morning after, and sometimes delicate petals of San Daniele prosciutto. Cora’s hamburgers are magnificent, drippy things made of coarsely chopped, beyond-prime Wagyu cow, and for dessert, there is occasionally an intense homemade burnt-caramel ice cream bitter enough to make a 10-year-old child weep. 1802 Ocean Ave., Santa Monica, (310) 451-9562. Mon.-Sun. 7 a.m.-9 p.m. No alcohol. Takeout. Lot parking. AE, MC, V. Continental, Italian based.
Cut
The billboard-size photographs of Cate Blanchett and George Clooney are a bit much. But at Cut, Wolfgang Puck’s gleaming-white temple of steakhouse cuisine in the Beverly-Wilshire Hotel, when faced with a fillet of first-quality Japanese beef, as wrapped in ninja-black cloth and carried around by the beef sommelier, you are facing the meat equivalent of an undiscovered Cranach. And if your financial consultants should permit you to order this rib-eye, you will discover a miracle unduplicated in the world of meat, richness upon richness, all possible permutations of smoke and char and animal dancing across your consciousness like sunlight rippling on a pond. At $160 or so, it will probably be the most expensive meat you have ever eaten ... but the sensations are so intense that one small steak easily satiates four. Save room for the warm veal-tongue salad and Lee Hefter’s roasted bone marrow flan. 9500 Wilshire Blvd., Beverly Hills, (310) 276-8500. Mon.-Thurs. 5:30-10 p.m., Fri.-Sat. 5:30-11 p.m. Full bar. Valet parking a half-block south of Wilshire Blvd. on Rodeo Drive. AE, D, MC, V. California Contemporary.
Daikokuya
Yes, we know about the old standards and the new, the austere Tokyo-based chain with branches in local Japanese supermarkets, and the impeccably credentialed noodle czars. We’ve heard all the arguments about authenticity, and we’ve seen Tampopo too many times to count. But ramen, a noodle soup borrowed wholesale from the Chinese, is no more a traditional Japanese food than curry rice, California rolls or spaghetti doughnuts. And when the yen for ramen strikes, you’ll usually find us at Daikokuya, decorated to look like a noodle shop set from a 1960s Imamura picture, where the broth is made from carefully simmered Kurobuta pork bones, the noodles have both snap and vigor, the gyoza are plump, and the condiment jars on each table are filled with pure, minced garlic. (Ask for your ramen “kotteri-style,” with extra-rich broth.) Some connoisseurs may try to tell you that affection for Daikokuya is a character defect, but that just means the line is that much shorter after a concert at Disney Hall just up the street. 327 E. First St., dwntwn., (213) 626-1680. Mon.-Thurs. 11 a.m.-mid., Fri.-Sat. 11 a.m.-1 a.m., Sun. noon-8 p.m. Beer and wine. Takeout. Street parking. AE, MC, V. Japanese.
