Nothing to see here folks, keep your eye on the ocean. If you would have asked me where to eat in legendary Hollywood you'd have found me double fisting flares directing you west, west, west. A sad feeling, really. Unpatriotic, unproud. Pit stop at Joan's on Third, and westward ho. Keeps your arms and hands inside the vehicle.

It is this lackluster redirect that has me downright giddy over Magnolia. Yes, the Magnolia that's about to celebrate it's two year anniversary. And sure, the bandwagon is so far down the road I can't even find it in my rearview mirror. But in a town where your fifteen minutes is so fifteen minutes ago, isn't there something to be said for one of those rare gems that despite all cultural evidence to the contrary, appears to be aging beautifully?

A young Musso and Franks with all the makings of its landmark status (give it a few decades), the outside patio is a feast of Hollywood's unbridled underbelly. With Sunset and Vine to your immediate left, unless you like your dinner with a show, I ask that you opt for the inside. The interiors are at once moody and comforting, clubby and cozy. And there's a second patio tucked way in the back. This I wish I had known about before I switched tables three times. It would have warranted a fourth.

But once Goldilocks felt just right, with less rock and more roll, I was delighted to learn this low-lit neighborhood haunt specializes in taking comfort food up a notch. We started with spinach artichoke dip and an arugula salad. The dip arrived just how I hoped it would - baked till crusty and golden on top, almost burnt but not burnt, with an overflowing accompaniment of hearty pita chips. No skimping there. They tasted like Stacy's, but they could have been homemade. A solid crunch, modestly salted, an apt balance for its piping hot topping. Delicious. We all but licked the china clean.

Most starter salads are nothing worth commenting on, but I've got to tip my hat here, this is the salad I wish all restaurants would pony up. Baby artichokes, fennel, mushrooms, fresh Parmesan, all dance in a light lemony vinaigrette atop arugula. The perfect pre-empt to any entrée. Satisfying, not overly filling, and with the lemon, even a little palate cleansing.

I ordered the seared ahi, a veritable litmus test for California cuisine. Bravo. With a rainbow of julienne vegetables and a respectable helping of wasabi-mashed potatoes, I was singing along to the Reservoir Dogs soundtrack. Someone in the kitchen is in love with perfect produce, in harmony with how to sear, and God almighty can they ever mash a potato.

With a final exclamation point to the classy comfort food motif, I culminated with the warm apple crisp. Arriving in a petite ramekin alongside a snowball of vanilla bean, beneath a mint leaf so lovely I had to touch it to assure it was real.

By my final bite of cinnamon apple sublime, I wanted to go back there and hug the chef. Say thank you for perfectly browning that spinach artichoke dip. Say thank you for that masterful mixture of farmers' market pickings; the emerald broccolini and the golden yellow pepper. And thank you for the little mint leaf perched atop my vanilla bean ice cream.

Where so much of Hollywood glam has given way to cliché, Magnolia is a true pleasure. A reason to go back east. Evenly priced and open till 3am seven days a week, I am delighted to designate a destination finally meriting its legendary location. Hooray for Hollywood. Lights, camera, artichoke.

By: Jolie Loeb

MAGNOLIA
6266 ½ Sunset Boulevard
Hollywood, CA 90028
323.467.0660
www.magnoliahollywood.com