Review: At Josiah Citrin’s Charcoal Venice, the meat is meat. But the charred cabbage is something else.
Porterhouse steak served at Charcoal Venice restaurant.(Ricardo DeAratanha / Los Angeles Times)
Chef Joseph Johnson in action in the kitchen at Charcoal Venice.(Ricardo DeAratanha / Los Angeles Times)
Dining room at Charcoal Venice restaurant.(Ricardo DeAratanha / Los Angeles Times)
Duck served at Charcoal Venice.(Ricardo DeAratanha / Los Angeles Times)
Chef Josiah Citrin interacting with customers in the dining room at Charcoal Venice.(Ricardo DeAratanha / Los Angeles Times)
Baked potato served at Charcoal Venice.(Ricardo DeAratanha / Los Angeles Times)
View of dining room and bar at Charcoal Venice restaurant.(Ricardo DeAratanha / Los Angeles Times)
Meat refrigerator at Charcoal Venice restaurant.(Ricardo DeAratanha / Los Angeles Times)
Lamb tartare served at Charcoal Venice.(Ricardo DeAratanha / Los Angeles Times)
Customer sits at the bar by the meat refrigerator at Charcoal Venice restaurant.(Ricardo DeAratanha / Los Angeles Times)
Baked cabbage served at Charcoal Venice.(Ricardo DeAratanha / Los Angeles Times)
Chef Josiah Citrin, left, and chef Joseph Johnson at Charcoal Venice.(Ricardo DeAratanha / Los Angeles Times)
So I took a vegetarian to a steakhouse. I wasn’t trying to troll him or anything — he showed up with his dad — but he was there just the same. The rest of us ate grilled prime rib-eye, smoked short ribs and beef heart tartare. He had cabbage, carrots and broccolini. And unless I’m reading the meal wrong, I think he may have eaten better than we did.
A year ago, you never would have gone to a steakhouse for the carrots, but in 2016, when more of us are aware of the dense pleasures of a vegetable tossed directly onto the coals to char and sweeten, the situation is beginning to change.
Charcoal Venice is the newest restaurant from Josiah Citrin, a Westside local best known for his swank French restaurant Mélisse. Mélisse has the pomp and shine you expect from a restaurant of its ambition. Charcoal is a more casual place just a few blocks from the beach, a modern, glassed-in rectangle, with an open kitchen, lots of bar seating and a soundtrack that veers toward dad rock. There are the craft beers you expect from a new restaurant, a modest list of genial wines from France and California, and slightly ambitious cocktails — the Chophouse Martini, made with smoked vodka, smacks of Weber grills and leaping flames.
The theme of the restaurant, as your server will remind you 30 seconds after you have settled into a banquette, is Backyard Barbecue — the smell of sizzling meat, the rush of side dishes and the warm feeling of contentment that comes with meat and alcohol near the shore. The condiments are explained: barbecue sauce, chimichurri and a pale gold liquid identified as “J1,” Citrin’s take on steak sauce.
“When you have two Michelin stars,” the server explains, referencing one of the many accolades that Mélisse has earned, “you can name your steak sauce anything you want.”
The grilled chicken wings are good enough — they really do taste as if they were plucked off a backyard grill — but what you may remember best are the mickeys, Yukon gold potatoes tossed into the coals until they resemble a geological specimen, then served with an upscale take on the usual fixings: crème fraîche, aged gouda, and Normandy butter. I like the yellowtail sashimi — it is apparently stroked with a live coal in the kitchen, which gives it a hint of smokiness — and the sweet grilled lamb ribs, but not as much as I do the collard greens salad with a bit of cheese and a sweet-sour raisin vinaigrette.
The best dish in the restaurant may be the wedge cut from a whole cabbage roasted on the coals, outside leaves burnt and crumbling, inside steamy and sweet. The cabbage is served with tart yogurt and sumac, but the overall effect still manages to be more Mitteleuropa than Middle East, its char and wine-like complexity alluding to something like a Romani campfire dish best enjoyed in the bitter cold.
And the meat? It’s, y’know, meat: well-sourced, carefully grilled and served sliced, as if meant to feed a crowd, possibly more interesting in the form of rich, ruddy skirt steak or the lean rumpsteak called pavé than as expensive rib-eye or New York strip. The meat is likely to be brushed with chimichurri or sweet barbecue sauce, in the manner of backyard barbecue, except for the slices of 35-day aged lamb shoulder, tough and a little dry, although tasty, which are brushed with honey and coriander instead.
If the duck is offered, you should probably go for that — the crunchy, salty, charred skin is delicious, almost completely rendered of its fat, and the flesh of the dry-aged animal is as bloody, dense and full-flavored as you’ve always wanted duck to be.
Unless you’re vegetarian, in which case: More cabbage all around.
A fine-dining chef opens a live-fire restaurant where veggies shine.
425 Washington Blvd., Los Angeles, (310) 751-6794.
Starters $10.50-$18; meat and fish $25-$145; vegetables $12.50- $14.50; desserts $12.50.
Dinner 6 p.m. to 11 p.m. Sun.-Thurs.; 6 p.m. to midnight Fri.; 5:30 p.m. to midnight Sat. Credit cards accepted. Full bar. Valet parking.
Cabbage baked in the embers; beef heart tartare; collard greens salad; coal-roasted carrots; charred Brussels sprouts with duck egg; duck.
Eat your way across L.A.
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