What Can West do for you?

I took the elevator to Paradise. Seventeen floors up in the sky, the doors slid apart, and I stepped into a navy midnight, the reception hall at the Angeleno Hotel's West Restaurant. Elegant in its simplicity, the hall made no allusion to greatness beyond its gates. But when I stepped over the threshold to join my party, a wave of nostalgia hit me, as if my life flashed before my eyes. There was a complete 180 degree span of windows and city lights. It was the view from the top of the John Hancock, I was sure. But then, I had to remind myself, I'm not in Chicago anymore. But there was the Pacific shore line, and there, the 405, and the streaming lights of traffic connecting the dots of LA's cities and streets. I never thought a highway could look so beautiful.

Echoing the lights from below, the bar shone before me. Bottles bounced candlelight back to glitter like stars in the mirrors against rich wooden walls. Finally the sun and the moon hung in two crystal chandeliers overhead. The faces of the patrons sparkled too. They were a loving crowd, at peace with life. Tables consisted of happy couples, be they old and married or young and dating; business men and women in love with their work, making deals as if they were jolly old Dogs Playing Cards; clusters of young adults in bouts of laughter, celebrating recent successes; and then there were travelers, glimpsing LA from above the billboards, bulk, and insanity of the street scene as they put their sightseeing feet to rest. Here seemed to be a haven for men and women from all walks of life.

But the god of this west coast sky bar was the chef, Mark, whose kitchen offered up the most decadent and rare Italian favorites available away from the motherland. The chef plated such tender tuna carpaccio, I could barely lift a forkful. But when I tasted the fish, with a peppery bite of watercress, chili oil, and a zingy caper aioli, I found the sensation well worth the effort. And we couldn't pass up the chef's recommendation, Mark's eggplant parmesan, served in a mini cast-iron skillet. Romancing the palate were flavors both complex and harmonious. And even though the cheeses and sauces melded together for the perfect, balanced consistency, the eggplant did not loose its meaty texture. There was hardly enough to go around.

For our main course, a Mediterranean sea bass arrived, in a delicate lobster foam, laid over a singular, monster-lobster ravioli. Here again, nostalgia struck as I remembered my father's kitchen and his homemade noodles. Good noodles must be light as air, but rich with texture. Very few restaurants offer handcrafted pasta. (And of the few that do, few serve it well). But at West, the al dente, paper thin ravioli took me to a new high, above and beyond the seventeenth floor. I might only add...the lobster stuffing was other worldly too! And then there was the ribeye, 40 day dry-aged, and a perfect cut. After all, the specialty here as in Florence, is beef. You'd be mad to miss the opportunity to order steak when you dine... And you will, dine. You must. I'll clue you in to the final draw: the tiramisu was heaven. Chef Mark's ladyfingers melted on my tongue with the same grace as that of the whipped cream and mascarpone. Espresso and brandy made separate but equal claims on my heart, and a sprig of mint seemed to curtsy with a flourish at the finish.

Having grown up in the windy city, surrounded by some of the great Italian restaurants in America, and one in particular in my own home kitchen, I'd been searching for a place out west, a haven to remind me of home. I found it here. The Angeleno Hotel is the saving grace for Italian cuisine in LA. With the hospitality of angels, West Restaurant made my past flash before my eyes... What can tiramisu do for you?

West Restaurant & Lounge
170 N. Church Lane
17th Floor of Hotel Angeleno
Los Angeles CA, 90049
(310) 481-7878