So you’re staring down what could be a truly monumental weekend.
Who knows—by Monday you could be settled under a fading Mediterranean sun with some exotic brunettes, enjoying a heady sprawl of couscous, lamb shoulder and Moroccan wine.
Note: this will likely take place on La Cienega.
Introducing Mezze, a sunlit trove of Middle Eastern and Mediterranean plates, now taking reservations for its Monday debut.
If you hadn’t driven here yourself, you probably wouldn’t believe it: this skylit courtyard of stained glass, Moroccan tile and Venetian plaster is the old home of Sona, right on Restaurant Row.
But now it’s bright. It’s airy. Spiced meats hiss from the open kitchen, and you can smell the flatbreads warming in a wood-burning oven. (It’s your second-favorite smell, after Bieber’s cologne.)
Upon entering, you’ll usher your spring fling toward the 12-seat bar for a, uh, Spring Fling—it’s a vodka-and-grappa potion with lemon and chamomile.
Then, you’re ready to take your seat right under the big skylight (dinner: still prime tanning hour) for plates of Flowering Squash Flatbread, Israeli Cous Cous with Sea Urchin and plenty of red meat.
And wine, obviously—you might start with an Israeli white and end with a California red.
And maybe a Nevada redhead.
Who knows—by Monday you could be settled under a fading Mediterranean sun with some exotic brunettes, enjoying a heady sprawl of couscous, lamb shoulder and Moroccan wine.
Note: this will likely take place on La Cienega.
Introducing Mezze, a sunlit trove of Middle Eastern and Mediterranean plates, now taking reservations for its Monday debut.
If you hadn’t driven here yourself, you probably wouldn’t believe it: this skylit courtyard of stained glass, Moroccan tile and Venetian plaster is the old home of Sona, right on Restaurant Row.
But now it’s bright. It’s airy. Spiced meats hiss from the open kitchen, and you can smell the flatbreads warming in a wood-burning oven. (It’s your second-favorite smell, after Bieber’s cologne.)
Upon entering, you’ll usher your spring fling toward the 12-seat bar for a, uh, Spring Fling—it’s a vodka-and-grappa potion with lemon and chamomile.
Then, you’re ready to take your seat right under the big skylight (dinner: still prime tanning hour) for plates of Flowering Squash Flatbread, Israeli Cous Cous with Sea Urchin and plenty of red meat.
And wine, obviously—you might start with an Israeli white and end with a California red.
And maybe a Nevada redhead.
