NOOK 11628 Santa Monica Blvd., #9 $6-$10 (small
plates) $10-$18 (big plates)
I couldn’t help feeling like a cool cat when I found
Nook.
Tucked in a mini-mall between a pizza parlor and a Chinese
restaurant, this bistro is so bona fide good that the only signage
it needs is a stoic orange arrow over its entrance ““ no
“Nook,” no nothing.
But instead of standing-room-only and drafty interiors like most
hole-in-the-walls, Nook opens up to a sleek, yet comfortable space:
modern concrete floors, high ceilings and a large communal table
striping down the center. This banquet table leaves little
opportunity for discreet conversation, but it’s perfect for
people-watching and feeling, well, like you’re dining among
(new) friends.
Exclusivity and decor aside, what makes Nook a real hidden gem
is its superbly executed comfort food with an edge. It takes
tried-and-true favorites and adds unexpected, often local organic
ingredients that make these originals even better.
Take its Cornerhouse Caesar, Nook’s version of the
traditional salad: The dressing is super-fresh. That is, instead of
the soggy mixture that usually passes for your run-of-the-mill
Caesar salad, at Nook the dressing is light, lemony, and punctuated
with extremely fresh capers ““ flavorful without being too
vinegary.
Nook’s smallish seasonal menu features surprising variety;
it serves both meaty and veggie options. The restaurant has a lot
of lentil dishes, including its signature lentil soup with feta and
lemon-mint relish. Instead of grouping items by appetizers and
entrees, the menu lists dishes under “small” and
“big.” This encourages mixing and matching. That way,
diners feel liberated to just order a “small” plate if
they’re not that hungry or two “small” plates for
more variety.
As a big proponent of sharing when dining out (and as an econ
student), I believe increasing variety means decreasing marginal
utility. My friend and I hit on a delightful combination with the
Spicy Gulf Shrimp and the Herb-Roasted Pork Chop. Within each dish
was a happy marriage of contrasts. The jumbo shrimp paired with
hearty linguisa sausage packed a punch and swam in creamy
stone-ground grits that kept the party under control.
It seems every modern comfort food joint has its own take on the
pork chop, and Nook’s version was full of surprises.
Pork chops can only be so good, so the tastiness of the overall
dish depends largely on the sides that accompany the meat. With
that said, Nook provides a very generous hunk of pork chop,
probably more than enough for one. That left my friend and me
(we’d agreed to share) to angle over the tiny, multicolored
fingerling potatoes ““ so tender and sweet and rapidly
disappearing! The apricot-vinaigrette-drizzled greens are
punctuated with crumbles of pungent Stilton cheese and slices of
sweet Asian pear. Every element added complexity to what would
otherwise be a tiresome piece of meat.
The servers, like the food, are unpretentious, personable and
attentive ““ they make for good conversation. Best of all,
they were the menu’s best advocates; they gave rave yet
detailed and discerning recommendations.
Last but not least, I’ve been known to go to Nook for just
its desserts. I love Nook’s clafouti, a French
custard-pudding that reminded me a lot of panna cotta. Smooth and
perfectly sweet, the clafouti was studded with fresh berries.
Perhaps the best part was the tiny pot of vanilla bean syrup on the
side; it was so addictive, I practically licked the dish.
Unfortunately, the dessert menu is perhaps the most seasonal of
all, meaning that the clafoutis probably won’t become
available until summer ““ although I encourage phone calls and
letters to Nook. Thankfully, there are some other excellent
desserts that are year-round regulars: the brownie cup and vanilla
bean gelato and the chocolate-banana bread pudding.
I had to think twice about spotlighting Nook this week, because
I’m selfish with my best secrets. As more flock to this
hidden (read: impossible-to-find) hole in the wall, it’ll
just get harder for me to get a table.
But, hey, when it comes to food, sharing is receiving.
Hsu’s secrets will be safe with you, right? If not,
e-mail her at lhsu@media.ucla.edu.