Hot scene, no sign. Are we in Studio City?
At Firefly, everybody arrives with an entourage in tow, or at least a friend or a date as social armor. The Studio City restaurant and bar is too cool to have a sign out front. So you drive up and down Ventura Boulevard until you realize that the darkened, ivy-swathed facade with a couple of valet parkers at the ready must be the spot, if the clutch of young fashion plates stepping out of fancy leased convertibles is any indication.
Firefly may be the hippest thing to hit the Valley in years. It’s alluring enough to draw folks from over the hill, but it’s not at all snooty. You can show up sans full-body tattoos, belly-baring attire or the latest limited-edition handbag and invariably find a polite welcome -- as long as you’ve reserved ahead. If you haven’t, you may get more of a once-over as you step through the Moroccan-tiled doorway.
One night we could get only a late reservation, even though we’d called days before. We decided to come a half-hour early, just in case something turned up before 9, and planned to have a drink. When I arrived, the dining room was far from packed.
As I waited for friends in the bar, which is decorated like the library in an English country house, the guy seated on the velvet sofa next to me patted his belly and confided that he’d just had sushi down the avenue. He wondered if I’d eaten here before and what I thought. It was early on, and under a different chef, I told him. But don’t you love the shadows the pierced bronze sconces cast on the patio walls? They give it the romance of a Moroccan walled garden. Just when he’s telling me he envisions an outdoor fireplace just like the one in the middle of the patio dining room for the house he plans to build one day, my friends arrive and we’re whisked off, a good half-hour early, to one of the cabana-booths curtained in white muslin.
Our waiter brings menus, water, wineglasses in short order. First out are the “cichetti” olives, named, I’m assuming, after the Venetian take on tapas, the little bites you find at bars up and down the canals. They’re your ordinary pitted green olives, but deep-fried to a golden crunch and so irresistible once you taste them piping hot, that the entire plate disappears before we know it.
The charcuterie plate is ideal for sharing too, but on a sweltering summer night the salami and capocollo have gone limp. It includes some decent prosciutto and a mingy slice of quite ordinary pate, but is nicely presented with three kinds of mustard, including a violet variety made with red wine. The salami, especially, is delicious, but unfortunately our waiter never makes it back with bread before our hungry party has devoured all the charcuterie.
A flash goes off. It’s our waiter taking a photo of the merry group in the next booth. In the middle of the room where tables are gathered around the patio fireplace, I watch a big cowboy leaning back on his spindly garden chair, waiting for it to collapse. But no, he’s got the exquisite balance of a Cirque du Soleil performer. At the back a woman has a Lauren Bacall moment, smoking defiantly on a teak garden bench. Even though the dining room has a rough-cut rippled fiberglass roof, it’s technically outside so it’s perfectly legal. And at Firefly, the policy is after 11 p.m., smoke away.
Firefly has a good chef in Gary Menes. I don’t think for a minute anybody is here for the food -- the bar still far outdraws the restaurant -- but it doesn’t matter, this chef cares. There’s something very admirable in that. His summer menu is filled with appealing dishes such as his corn soup, a puree that tastes of pure sweet corn, garnished with a dollop of creme fraiche and crumbled bacon. Calamari are dusted with almond flour, which gives them a fragile golden crust once they’re fried. Menes tosses the squid with chickpeas and tiny orbs of tomato and adds a pesto-flavored aioli for dipping.
Salads are good too. One night the special is a salad of baby spinach with poached egg, thick-cut bacon and hand-torn croutons. When you cut into the egg with your fork, the yolk runs out to mix with the spunky whole mustard vinaigrette. Baby greens come with grilled figs and country ham, while arugula is thrown together with roasted almonds and creamy burrata cheese in a balsamic vinaigrette.
I was the only one at my table who enjoyed the “farinette.” Described as a savory sourdough bread pudding, it was more like a crustless grilled cheese sandwich with Grafton Farms aged Cheddar tucked between the layers of bread. But everybody loved the tagliatelle limone. Made with fresh noodles, lemon juice and Parmigiano, it’s remarkably faithful to the one served at Angelini Osteria, which is why Menes named it “a la Angelini.”
The chef shows he’s up on what’s current at the big restaurants with pan-roasted scallops served on a summer succotash with a vanilla bean vinaigrette. I love the succotash, but am less convinced by the vanilla accent with the scallops. Prawns wrapped in smoked bacon are delicious against a backdrop of braised artichokes and roasted tomatoes. Of course, he has to have ahi tuna. But his version packs some interest by making it au poivre, like a steak, with crushed black peppercorns and pairing it with organic red rice from the Camargue, the cowboy region of France.
The petite filet mignon is what my friend Tyrone calls “regular guy food.” Too bad it’s overcooked, more medium than medium-rare, and has the texture of sawdust. The potato gratin served with it is still al dente. If meat is on your mind, I’d go for the lamb sirloin special, which is really flavorful and served with a wonderful eggplant and roasted pepper tian. Or the pork breast advertised as baked all day. Meltingly tender, it may be true. This is not at all the kind of dish I’d expect to find at a trendy place like Firefly. Pork? Fat? Menes presents it in its natural juices with lentils and endive cooked in a tart-sweet style. I wonder how he fetched up at Firefly. Or how Firefly lucked out with this ambitious young chef.
The wine list is short and sweet, but has enough eclectic, interesting wines to keep wine lovers busy for at least a couple of visits. The wine service could use some help, though. Waiters tend to pour the glasses too full, intent on finishing that bottle so you’ll order another.
Desserts, while not stellar, include a classic Tahitian vanilla bean creme brulee with crackling-thin burnt sugar crust. There’s also a banana walnut cake that’s like a little cupcake with a sticky caramel sauce and a scoop of hazelnut ice cream on top.
Against all odds, the Boulevard finally has its own trendy restaurant and lounge with a following on both sides of the hill. The surprise is not that it’s hip, but that the chef takes the food here seriously, turning out a Mediterranean-inspired menu that makes Firefly as much a moderately priced dining destination as a venue for the latest cocktails.
*
Firefly
Rating: **
Location: 11720 Ventura Blvd., Studio City; (818) 762-1833.
Ambience: This secret (no sign) Studio City address draws a hip, young crowd from the Valley and, surprisingly, the other side of the hill. The large bar is English country house, lined with bookcases and players sprawled on velvet sofas. The dining room is open-air, with private cabana-booths, an outdoor fireplace and moody Moroccan-inspired lighting. Occasional undercover star sightings.
Service: Willing, but sometimes inexperienced, from actor-waiters.
Price: Appetizers, $7 to $16; main courses, $16 to $24; sides, $6 to $9; desserts, $8.
Best dishes: Fried cichetti olives, charcuterie platter, farmhouse cheeses, tagliatelle limone, calamari with chickpeas, grilled prawns with bacon, herb-marinated roast chicken, baked pork breast, lamb sirloin, fricasee of forest mushrooms, banana walnut cake.
Wine list: Though short, and obviously put together on a budget, you can find a few wines that complement the food. Corkage, $16.
Best table: One of the sidewalk tables out front.
Special features: Outdoor dining room, which means smoking is permitted at the table.
Details: Open for dinner Monday through Saturday, 6 p.m. to 2 a.m. Main kitchen closes at 11 p.m. Late-night menu available until midnight, Monday through Thursday, until 1 a.m Friday and Saturday. Full bar. Valet parking, $4.50.
Rating is based on food, service and ambience, with price taken into account in relation to quality. ****: Outstanding on every level. ***: Excellent. **: Very good. *: Good. No star: Poor to satisfactory.