L.A. Weekly
The shelf above your head bursts with china cats, plump dolls and rose-adorned teapots, a jumble so intense it threatens to collapse your senses. On the plate in front of you, cold chicken swims in a copious amount of jelly aspic. An accordionist plays a jaunty tune in the corner of the room, while a jolly girl in an old-fashioned floral dress delivers a shot of sea buckthorn vodka. This is Mari Vanna, the latest in a chain of high-end Russian restaurants, with outposts in London, New York, Washington, D.C., and now — lucky us — L.A.
See also: Mari Vanna Review: A Russian Fever Dream on Melrose Place
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