Trois Mec Review: Ludo Lefebvre Brings Bistronomie to Hancock Park

Ludo Lefebvre doesn't like the music. "What is up with this fucking music?" he mutters to his cooks in his thick French accent.

"I don't know; didn't you pick it?" one of them ventures.

"I don't know, maybe, I don't know what it is. No. No. I can't stand this fucking music."

PHOTO BY ANNE FISHBEIN

White asparagus, oysters, bone marrow, sauce gribiche at Trois Mec.

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Trois Mec

716 N. Highland Ave.
Los Angeles, CA 90038

Category: Restaurant > French

Region: Hollywood

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More About

• Ludo Lefebvre
• Vinny Dotolo
• Anne Fishbein
• Food and Cooking
• Eating Out

See more of Anne Fishbein's photos of Trois Mec.

Lefebvre is pacing, stalking up and down behind the kitchen line, which also serves as the counter at Trois Mec, which is also where you'll most likely sit if you are part of a party of two. The music, innocuous indie rock of some sort, would be barely noticeable if it weren't for the chef's displeasure.

Trois Mec is tiny — 24 seats in all — and two-tops sit at the counter, which looks directly into the kitchen. It affords you a view of everything that happens throughout service: the cooking, the plating, the chef's vexation with the soundtrack.

At first, this kitchen drama is captivating: the charismatic chef's brooding presence, at once charming and menacing; the barked orders and the "yes chef!" responses; the careful assemblage of plates of food.

But then, as those plates begin to arrive in front of you, your focus shifts. After a flurry of fun snacks (a tiny tart shell brimming with fresh herbs, a madeleine imbued with the warm sting of curry), a plate is set before you that requires all of your attention. A confited and deboned chicken wing lies under paper-thin slices of fresh white asparagus. Around it, a dashi-like, umami-intense broth is dotted with English peas. On the side of the bowl, a smear of perfect chicken liver mousse, sprinkled with brioche crumbs, is provided. You can add dabs to the dish, ramping up the richness of what is already an extraordinarily flavorful and imaginative bowl of food.

Trois Mec translates to "three dudes" — those three dudes being Lefebvre, Jon Shook and Vinny Dotolo, who just happen to be three of the biggest names in L.A.'s food scene. Shook and Dotolo, who also own and operate Animal and Son of a Gun, consult with Lefebvre on the food and other aspects of the restaurant. On nights when Lefebvre is unable to be at Trois Mec, one of the other two will run service, but this is mainly Ludo's show.

Lefebvre rose to fame in L.A. as the chef at L'Orangerie and then at Bastide, but he is thought to have really come into his own with his cult-status pop-up dinner series, LudoBites. Trois Mec is his first time back in the kitchen full-time since he opened Lavo in Las Vegas in 2009. In the meantime, he has cultivated an increasingly high profile, culminating in his run as a judge on The Taste alongside Anthony Bourdain and Nigella Lawson.

Lefebvre's star has been burning brighter, his personal brand growing ever larger. So it's interesting to see him do something so small, so focused and so utterly personal.

There are a lot of rules broken at Trois Mec, things that would be risky for any other set of chefs. The reservation system is controversial enough to have gained international attention: Once a fortnight, at 8 a.m. on Friday, tickets go on sale online, and you'd better know at 8 a.m. exactly when you want to dine and with how many people, because if you pause to consider, most slots will be taken by 8:03. Your ticket encompasses the full price of dinner — $97 per person, which is inclusive of tax and tip but not alcohol save the Lillet aperitif presented upon arrival. Your ticket cannot be refunded or changed, though you may transfer it to another party.

The space is no easier to find than tickets are to procure. It's housed in what was once a cheap pizza joint in a strip mall behind a gas station on the corner of Melrose and Highland. There's no indication from the outside that this is anything but a pizza place — the original yellow sign proclaiming "Raffallo's Pizza & Italian Foods" still adorns the building, and you'd be forgiven for stumbling into the place looking for a slice — although you'd immediately be greeted by a chorus of "Bonjour!" from the staff, at which point you'd probably realize that this is no pizza joint. Far, far from it.

So what is it, exactly? A high-priced, fine-dining restaurant featuring only a single tasting menu? A casual hole in the wall with counter service, where the cooks serve as waiters and the preferred soundtrack is hip-hop? (Lefebvre's mood lifted dramatically once the indie rock gave way to Suprême NTM, a French hip-hop group from the '90s.) Or is it a dream restaurant, the natural culmination of a trend in which chefs present exactly the food they want, in the setting they've chosen, with no compromise given to the traditional trappings of restaurants? Yes, yes and yes, it is all of these.

Though it may be new to Los Angeles, the idea of a world-class chef cooking out of a small, nondescript space has become common in Paris over the last few years. "Bistronomie," as it's known, takes the concept of haute cuisine and removes all of its bells and whistles. Of course, it only works if the food is as captivating as the space is plain, if the egoism of proclaiming, "I'll do it my way, screw the norms" is followed by a payoff on the plate.