John Rivera Sedlar, the chef who brought us Saint Estephe, Bikini and Abiquiu (may they all rest in peace) is back and back in a big way. At the new Rivera within shouting distance of L.A. Live, the 54-year-old chef is firing on all cylinders. Rivera is terrific, one of the most exciting restaurants to debut in L.A. in the last few years.
I have to confess I took my own advice and ate at Rivera more times than I really needed to. I couldn't help myself -- Rivera's food is so utterly unique. I couldn't believe it was actually that good and had to keep pinching myself. But the hyper-talented chef nailed it every time, virtually every dish, a remarkable feat in a restaurant hot off the presses.
Despite the odd location on the ground level of the Met Lofts building, the space designed by Italian architect Osvaldo Maiozzi and designer (and business partner) Eddie Sotto is beautiful, a long, sleek room with ceviche bar and a huge, square communal table at one end. Banquettes hug one long wall beneath a 40-foot electronic mural of evocative and poetic images (Maya ruins, agave, lizards, abstract forms) that dissolve into one another throughout the evening. The small bar features bronze and leather tequila tasting chairs designed by Sotto and riffing off the R in Rivera -- Sedlar's middle name.
Compared with his cooking at Abiquiu, his late Santa Monica restaurant, Sedlar's food here is less tricked up, more elegant and focused. At last, here's a chef who doesn't get caught up in a cartoon -- POWEE! WOWEE! -- celebration of Latin cuisine, using the blunt force of chile to punch everything up.
Sedlar, who in the 1970s cut his teeth working under the late great Jean Bertranou at L'Ermitage, shows a beguiling finesse in the way he combines the vocabulary of Latin cuisines with a command of French technique. He manages to seamlessly integrate chiles and spices into his dishes. Nothing sticks out or hits you over the head, and yet the result is fascinating and complex.
And boy, does he have an eye. He puts plates together with brilliant slashes of color and contrast that are just as effective on the palate as the palette -- and that's not even including the plates that come ornamented with Pop-art slogans, such as "Courtesy is not a sign of weakness," stenciled in powdered chiles and spices.
A swatch of banana leaf is unfurled to make a frame around the fluffy tamale studded with braised pork short rib and hedgehog mushrooms. A long roasted chilaca chile pepper marches down a line of juicy Cara Cara orange slices in a vinaigrette infused with black garlic. A rectangular plate with an inset the size of a cigarette pack holds flavorful grilled quail, slivered oyster mushrooms and black beans with a hint of sweetness and smoke. Duck enfrijolada -- one of the best dishes here -- is a stack of blue corn tortillas and shredded confit bathed in black bean puree and a deep scarlet-black Cabernet chile rojo sauce scattered with crimson rose petals.
But before all that, you must start with an order of the tortillas florales: four little corn tortillas, handmade and still warm, tucked under a napkin. The corn is freshly ground nixtamal, and each tortilla has a sprig of herb or a flower pressed into its surface. Browned from the griddle, they're like fossils embedded in the tortilla's surface. The taste is incredible, earthy and basic. Spread a little of the buttery smooth avocado butter on top: heaven.
Another must is the xnipec or "dog's snout" salsa, so-called because it's supposed to be so hot it makes your nose run like a dog's snout. Don't be afraid. Though it's made with charred habanero, it isn't that hot, more a marvelous melding of smoke and earth, bright-tasting and a deep mahogany in color. It's served with fried tortilla chips cut into thin, sharp shards that remind me of cactus needles. I scoop and scoop and scoop until all the chips are gone and ask for more.
Both are brilliant with a pretty perfect margarita: lots of lime, not too sweet, on the rocks. Or one of the exotic tequila-based cocktails or infused tequilas mixologist Julian Cox puts together every day. Right now, I'm in love with the pink peppercorn and pomelo. But there's also blood orange, cinnamon, etc. The flavors change all the time, and you can order them in a flight of three 1-ounce pours. Sedlar knows his tequilas. He's been the spokesman for Patron tequila for years.
Wines to match