A sleek wood-work building pops out of a dystopian parking lot surrounded by an utterly random mishmash of old-Westchester mom-and-pops and conglomerate chains, a gentrified beauty among urban decay. Eater LA and Michelin were quick to call it a place with a penchant for greatness, and my curiosity was killing me. I just can't get there for dinner anytime soon, so I went for the daytime menu to try to sneak a peek.
For starters, they do know their tea. The Hochija Latte is a beautiful balance between tea and sweetened milk, subtle sugar with toasty-roasty undertones.
The Smoked Trout is more of a toast than an open-faced sandwich. The fish is buttery, melt-in-your-mouth, and absolutely stunning, but $14 is a steep price to charge for something the size of your palm. Not your hand, your PALM...MY palm - I have tiny hands.
Then the classic Croque Monsieur. Hoo boy, someone really messed that one up. Can barely taste the ham, can't taste any cheese, and there's supposed to be raclette so I'm PISSED. Between the mustard-hinted salt-goop on top which was overpowering even after scraping it off and the side of carrots with muddy-salty-something, there isn't much flavor left.
They do get props for the gorgeous case of pastries, all of which are baked in-house. Those morning buns look legit, and I wish I'd gotten that instead because those seem to know how to bake. They say they make “English-inspired” fare, which isn't known for its deliciousness, but I recently went to England, and they could at least make a sandwich there.
Again, they’re known for their dinner menu so I know what I had during the day isn't entirely accurate, but based on what I had for lunch, I absolutely will not risk paying what they’re charging for dinner.
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