Despite LA traffic, somehow we arrive at Spago a little bit before 6, so we stroll up and down the street. Here's my overkill Spago review:
We got into the restaurant, gave our reservation info and was told they'd begin seating shortly. We decide to have a drink. Amaretto Sours for both of us. $10 each. A Michael Jackson tune is playing. How odd. The Maître d' picked up our drinks, brought them to the table and seated us.
A french guy comes by to offer us beverages. It was difficult to understand him. The server, Christian, comes over but never introduces herself. I later asked for her name.
The prices are outrageous and the descriptions are what I'd call cryptic-fanciful. I spot "five course tasting menu available" at the bottom of the menu. $95.00 each. I ask about that, she says it changes daily. She had to find out what it was. Shouldn't she have known that at the beginning of her shift? Sheesh. Another Michael Jackson tune is playing. Maybe he's there? She named several items, one being "squab". What's squab? Pigeon ...... uh no thanks. OK so we ask for a definition of some of the menu items. Another item was "skate". Skate is stingray fin. Hmmmm, maybe I'll try that. There were some other strange dishes as well. Bread service was yummy even though the french guy served that and again we had a hard time understanding him.
Jim and I picked 3 appetizers, told her we'd like 2 out of the 3 and to surprise us. One of which was Veal Sweetbread. It was tasty but I later found out from our DEAR friend Mike that sweetbread is the pancreas or thymus gland. Ugh. For dinner, we gave our server a few items and she recommended Prime "Cote De Boeuf" grilled over charcoal for two with Swiss Chard, Armagnac-Green Peppercorn Sauce and Pommes Aligo, whatever all that meant. We'll just call that steak for ease. Another Michael Jackson tune..... The steak was cooked up and then brought to our table unsliced by a chef. We nodded in approval of this hunk o' meat with a large bone protruding. 2 chefs returned to the table with the steak sliced. Tableside they served it onto the plates, mixed up some cheese and mashed potato concoction and some healthy spinach. We eat, it's tasty. Jim isn't impressed. I saw that one coming.
Off to the bathroom I go.... a Prince tune plays..... Back to the table.....
In the dining room are quite some characters. Old Hollywood women who appear 994 but with plastic surgery appear youthful and fake at 991. Some other lady wore this horrific moo-moo dress with gigantic-enormous balls around her neck. Like giant pearls but more the size of gold balls. Hysterical. I share the humor with our down-to-earth server. She said we oughta see the scariness that is Hollywood on other nights. Another Prince tune plays overhead......
Time for desert. Basically we had decided on some one billion layer chocolate cake and a cookie tray. At our "first course" (appetizer) we ordered 2 items to share. Apparently this ain't no TGI Fridays so there's no extra plates to share. I didn't want to go through that eating off each other's plate crap for desert. I told Christian, I want the cake and the cookie thingy. We want to share it. I want half on Jim's plate and half on mine. She says, oh usually it's just brought out on separate plates but she'd see what she can do. She said the chef would have a lot of questions. Jim politely said, "they're an executive chef, tell them to figure it out." I loved that moment. AND they did it perfectly.
In summary, I thought Prince and Michael Jackson music was inappropriate for a restaurant of this caliber. You'll have to refer to our casino steak night (Black & Blue) to appreciate some of my comparison comments. No warm, wet towels to start with. No fancy butter. No relish tray. No ice made of iced tea. $200.00 + tip + the drinks from the bar. I really didn't feel it was worth it. I feel gypped. Jim and I agree that at least we can say we ate at Spago in Beverly Hills.
I won't classify it as a misadventure and it really wasn't bad. It just wasn't as good as we thought it should be.
Here's some other photos from our night out:
Above: Jim was able to hold the pole up until the police arrived.
Above: This Rodeo Drive mannequin has huge pointy nipples.
Above: People, STOP with the huge sunglasses. Ewwww.