On the way out of Spagos, the most unassuming gent in a Member’s only jacket gave me a photography tip: shoot the lit sign, instead of the unlit sign. “Thanks,” I said. Then the valet pulled up his late model Rolls Royce, staffed by a chauffeur, and he got in. Apparently he’s a regular. That’s a one-third million dollar car, plus a driver’s salary.

And so ends yet another offbeat DineLA meal.

Considering I became vaguely aware of the LA’s dining scene after watching Pretty Woman’s escargo fly-away (shot at current-day Cicada. Yes, I’ve been inside, no, I’ve never eaten there.), it was always a bit strange that Spago, the vanguard of LA fine dining, perpetually escaped me. After a visit during DineLA, it is uncertain if a returned visit will ever happen. Granted, it is unfair to truly judge any restaurant during a PR-driven restaurant week, but inherently, Spago’s flavors were unable to sway in either direction

The final choices offered were slightly different from the official DineLA Restaurant Week website. Instead of the dinner options, some of the lunch options (undoubtly cheaper to produce) carried over. Jamon serrano was opted out, and the prosciutto over burrata was in the line up:

The baby octopus originally listed was out, and the tomato soup was replaced by a kabocha soup. Creme of Kabocha is lovely, but dangit, it is beyond easy to make at home and this particular version wasn’t extraordinary.

For mains, the Kurobota pork chop proved to be un-French in its cooked-to-medium pinkness, despite firmed pleading with the hostess, and the Maine Cod was perfectly reasonable, despite the mascarpone foam. Yes, foam. Yes, it’s nearly 2010.

What impressed the most at this particular moment of the meal was the size of the Kurobata chop. It was literally a Texas road house chop, easily weighing in at a pound wet, prior to cooking. It should sadden everyone that this pricey pork steak, left mostly uneaten, was dumped into the garbage simply because the bussing & waitstaff didn’t bother to take note. How a quarter pound of meat goes amiss, is anyone’s guess. What’s least impressive had nothing to do with the food. The $25 wine pairing featured labels of dubious nature, all unleashed with the force of a leaky faucet from the spout, adding to no more than 3 or 4 ounces per glass. Let us not be haste and call this a stingy act, at least not until the waitress blatantly forgot the dessert port. And no, she didn’t make up the severely delayed final pairing with a heavier pour.

Mr. Puck has a line of cookware, see this Wolfgang Puck Stainless Steel 18 pc. Cookware Set as an example. The previous sold Wolfgang Puck Ice cream maker features a recipe book by Spago BH’s executive pastry chef Sherry Yard. From that alone, a great expectation for the below 2 plates arisen.

Initially, it was easy to scoff at the apple crisp, but this was a genuinely nice crisp. The apple gelato/sorbet which came was palate cleansing and looks eons better than anything to come out of my own kitchen. The zebra torte looked fantastic, and tasted fantastic, but, in the spirit of this throw back restaurant, was really just a glamorized chocolate molten lava cake.

Spago
Beverly Hills

PS: it’d be remiss to not show the Power Patio during DineLA. Instead of BH real estate tycoons and banking moguls, you have a buncha Asian UCLA students sporting ill fitting suits. Good times?

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