Un-Haughty French
Ever since Wolfgang Puck opened a little place called Spago and ushered in the era of chic casual dining, formal restaurants have been struggling to hold their own. Why would anyone want to wrestle with a tie when they can eat foie gras or truffle risotto in baseball cap and sneakers? These days, L'Orangerie barely gets away with requiring guests to don a jacket. Is there any room left for haute French cuisine in Los Angeles? What, then, is a relatively young chef enamored of everything French to do?
Fortunately, Josiah Citrin has found a middle ground at Melisse, the Santa Monica restaurant he opened little more than two years ago. It was a surprising move for the 31-year-old chef. At JiRaffe, he and co-owner/chef Raphael Lunetta were known as much for their laid-back California surfer style as for their polished California French cooking. It was definitely a gamble when Citrin left JiRaffe to open this much more ambitious and formal French restaurant, complete with chandeliers, table-side service, serving captains and several elaborate tasting menus.
Citrin's affinity for French cuisine may have something to do with his background. His father is French--and a shaman, it turns out. "When he comes into the restaurant, he burns sage to drive out any bad spirits," Citrin recounts with a wry smile.
Maybe there is something to it, because in the past year, Melisse has come into its own, no easy feat in the current restaurant climate. Citrin cooks from the heart, and taste always wins out over presentation. His food is delicious but not fussy. And neither the setting nor the service is intimidating.
One look around the dining room is enough to tell you that people are comfortable here--leaning back in their chairs, holding unhurried conversations. Tables aren't crowded together, and the restaurant rarely overbooks. There's also no "scene" to speak of: People are here because they like to eat.
When Melisse opened, it was obvious Citrin had a limited budget. The chandelier looked absurdly small for the dining room, the silver serving platters lacked heft, the wine list was thin, and the decor looked more like a provincial stage set than the real thing. (It still does.) He had, however, the good sense to spend money where it counted most, on the china and stemware, the old-fashioned flatware and on lovely little touches such as the porcelain Bernadaud candle covers etched with French landscapes.
