Mh Zh

For months I've seen Silverlake hipsters line up on the corner of Sunset and Maltman

outside of a no name restaurant no larger than a birds nest.  

On the sidewalk, a green oil drum serves as a makeshift hostess station.

Menus, written in black sharpie on paper bags, are piled under a porous rock.

The sidewalk is lined with tables to supplement the ten seats inside the space.

After an early viewing of short films at a festival in Hollywood,

 we took a chance,

not knowing if the wait would be endurable.

We were in luck. 

Within 15 minutes we were perched on utilitarian stools

with front row seats to the open kitchen.

Rib eyes and lamb chops sizzled over an open flame.

Swiss chard melted on the stove as trays of steaming russet potatoes were pulled from the oven.

A bouquet of flowering cilantro garnished a side of braised cabbage

so rich it looked liked tender beef. 

The restaurant, helmed by Conor Shemtov a 26 year old Israeli chef, lives up to the hype.

Our Branzino was expertly flavored with lemon, thyme and capers.

The flakes of white fish were tender and buttery.

The potatoes, crisp, meaty skins, were last meal worthy.

Roasted baby beets with hazelnuts and to-die for bread rounded out the meal.

An absolutely perfect night.

Satiated by an adventurous dining experience

where a chef's love for cooking was extremely evident.

I felt both transported and grounded in the moment.

Anthony Bourdain has not been out of my thoughts since I heard about his suicide on Friday.

He would have been enraptured by the big meal turned out by this tiny kitchen.

Mh Zh.

Definitely going back.