Over the River…

The Ivy

113 N Robertson Blvd
Los Angeles,  90048

(310) 274-8303

$$$$

It’s coming up on the weekend and as you dream at your desk of all the fabulous beach days and the happy hours you can now partake in, your parents call.  They are coming in to town and they want to have the grand tour of how their “baby girl” is doing in the big bad city of Los Angeles.

What to do?  You quickly scan your brain (and the internet) for the best/appropriate places to take your parents to eat.  What says “oh hey, yes I can survive on my own thank you very much” but yet, “I wanted to save this very special (and slightly out of my reach) place just for you”?

The Ivy.  The white picket fenced cottage-like restaurant nestled between the finest of Beverly Hills shops.  Grandma’s house meets 90210.  Women in their business suits enjoying dinner on their own dime, men in their ties and slightly ruffled hair as a result from a long day at work; each specimen wearing that proud look of “independence”.

Welcome home.

I couldn’t take credit for this one.  My mom had actually researched it and came knocking on my door clutching a handful of reviews as if to convince me to go to dinner at this well-known affable restaurant.  Little did she know that she had me at “Robertson Blvd”.

Sterling silver heavy utensils, fresh flowers at every table, and the country-french decor is a nice change to the every day sterile and modern Hollywood restaurant.  We settled into the floral upholstered chairs and are enveloped by the smell of, wait a minute, is that fried chicken?  Ah yes, comfort food.

We asked for an extra candle so we could scour over the menu to find the source of that delectable scent in the two room cottage (apparently they were aiming for mood lighting but we found ourselves quite blind) and discovered the source; juicy selected cut of prime rib paired with creamy gnocchi and leaks. Or, perhaps it was the the quarter cut halibut steak seated happily in a bed of baby steamed broccoli and sliced portobello mushroom.

We order both, pick off each other’s plates, and still have enough for tomorrow’s meal (of course throwing in what was left of the thickly sliced italian bread from the bread basket…our family clears our plates).  I walk out feeling slightly giddy with salt and cream.  It was very overpriced, but can you really put dollar sign on nostalgia and family?

Until we eat again,

Dine & Dish LA