Faith & Flower: A Gilded Sunburst on L.A.'s Ever-Sunnier Restaurant Scene
One of the perks of working in Downtown Los Angeles, colloquially referred to as the zeitgeisty acronym DTLA, is the many top-end food establishments opening up in the area (trade-offs being the smoggy air and dirt particles that flutter into your face at every pedestrian intersection). Like a lot of other neighborhoods in the city (e.g. Silver Lake, Echo Park), DTLA has been undergoing gentrification in recent years, attracting restaurant entrepreneurs and world-class culinary talent to the area. At Faith & Flower, executive chef Michael Hung, formerly of San Francisco's Michelin-starred La Folie, joins an impressive team backed by Coastal Luxury Management to strike culinary gold in this hitherto exclusively business district.
So when another listless week at the office finally drew to a close, my coworkers and I thought a visit to the new restaurant, situated just around the corner from our building, would be a perfect way to say au revoir to corporate drudgery and welcome on the weekend.
The restaurant proclaims its high concept to combine the gilded fancifulness of the American 1920s with the cool comfort of contemporary Los Angeles. This amalgamation manifests in the restaurant's decadent decor, designed by AvroKO. The dramatic floor-to- ceiling drapes and Art Deco details embellishing the interiors serve as an auspicious backdrop to the modern service experience enjoyed by diners in the 21st century.
In other areas, the imminent disillusionment of the Roaring Twenties can be seen prematurely settling in. The service staff dress in the standard all-black of modern dining, but not every sartorial choice quite holds up to the decorum of the Gilded Age – front house staff in combat boots and a crop top, for example. One could liken this clashing coincidence of sensibilities to the dichotomous nature of Italian style: street- versus high-fashion.
However clothed, the serving staff is comfortably mannered and helpful in making recommendations off the menu, which is encased in a charming brown book printed in trendy yet classic typewriter courier. Our waiter was a young, slender fellow, who will be referred to as "Paul" for the purposes of this article (he did not actually tell our party his name). Paul appropriately gushed about the blood orange Béarnaise sauce accompanying the branzino, and asked if he could interest us in any drinks from the spectacular raw bar equipped with name-drop-worthy mixologists. While one of my colleagues went for an off- the-menu cocktail, the remaining two of us were sold to a pair of prescribed drinks: the Vaudeville, a fruity and herbaceous vodka drink of pinkish hue; and the Garden Cup, a summery concoction of Pimms, basil and citrus, which was topped off with an ostentatiously organic pickled carrot and tasted freshly bright and sweet like the English liqueur that inspired it.
All meals are served in the small plates fashion meant to conduce conviviality among guests, which worked well for our group as we were nestled in a crescent booth situated along the restaurant's windowed wall facing Flower Street. We decided to order the kimchee deviled eggs and calamari to start, as well as two main dishes – the seared branzino and a lamb ragu pasta, having been courteously forewarned by our waiter about the petite portions. Everything came out in a timely succession, had harmonious flavors, and was cooked with impeccable skill. The piquant deviled eggs were a nice diversion from the staid classic; the calamari came out tender, sitting on a bed of grilled sourdough melding in a tasty Moroccan spiced vinaigrette; the branzino was moist under its seared skin; and the thick cut wheat pasta noodles with lamb ragu looked befittingly rustic, with an ever slightly articulated chewiness at bite.
The wait staff carried on immaculately in the bustling dinner atmosphere of the restaurant in its opening week, rolling out one fussed-over plate and carefully-crafted drink after the other. As they took away our empty plates and empty glasses, any lingering stressors from work and life seemed to dissipate along with them.
I watched my fellow guests hovering over their food, tapping incessantly on their phones before consumption. This typical scene appeared almost ritualistic for nostalgia; an attempt to capture what they knew would soon be gone.
My only real fault with Faith & Flower is that they didn't serve my kir in a flute glass as it is at the café en plein air in Saint-Jean-Cap-Ferrat.
Faith & Flower
705 W. 9th Street
Los Angeles, CA 90015
213.239.0642