Providence — Restaurant in Los Angeles

I literally asked if the cushions provided on the bench side of the seating were for screams (of joy), or for tears (of happiness). From personal experience, they can be used for both.

Julia, our server, wove us a majestic tale with every course.

The wine pairings introduced me to my two best friends of the evening, Tim and David, the sommeliers with the uh… mostliers? They taught me tasty tidbits about geography, history, and the inner workings of the master sommelier diploma examination. The only thing I love more in this life than eating delicious food is learning.

The courses began with a caviar + macadamia nut combination that made me tear up. I finally understood why Robin Leach's sign off of “champagne kisses and caviar dreams” because this is the pinnacle of flavor combinations.

Shout out to the server’s assistants Jose and Teon, who were immaculate in their attention to detail, swooping in to fill water and clear crumbs and to hold me as I waxed poetic about the fact that I was enjoying the best meal of my life.

The second course was a yellowtail sashimi. This was paired with the most crisp, refreshing and buttery Riesling I’d ever had. Both the fish and the wine melted in my mouth. The tartness of the fruit and vegetable was a perfect complement to the velvet taste of the fish, and the richness of the olive oil.

The amazingness had only begun, because next up was a warm fricassee of shellfish. The uni from the amuse bouche was back, this time joined with geoduck, abalone, and pistachios. There was also a sourdough that accompanied this dish, the perfect vehicle with which to soak up all of the broth. The wine paired here was from Italy, a blend I’d never experienced before, along with a history lesson that blew my mind.

Next was a scallop crowned in black truffles. It was bathed in leek fondue. The scallop was firm and juicy, the truffle bursting with earthy flavor. The wine that went with this course was a “blanche” hermitage. The bold flavors and meatiness of a red were present in this white somehow, maybe through alchemy.

After the pre-dinner “hey, look at this sexy box of fungus” presentation, we had no choice but to get some sweet sweet black truffle added to our meal. My husband chose the home-made pasta, which comes served at a perfect al-dente, covered with butter and an aged parmesan. Good enough to eat on its own.

But then, the truffle. At this point I was already wondering how it was that the Earth I lived on was party to such an ethereal combination of flavors and textures.

We weren’t even done.

We had John Dory next. How is the inside of a fish iridescent? Literally made of magical rainbows. The pieces were fused together with a shrimp mousseline. It was creamy and hearty and delicious. If seafood were a cheeseburger, wrapped in hugs and warm blankets.

And the wine, an amazing wine, the Batič. This winery has been around for over 400 years, and this white blend is a roll of the dice every year, they take all the grapes and throw them into the process and see what comes out and hopefully it’s good. It was more than good. It was amazing.

My final (non-dessert) course was duck. It came two ways, a slice of perfect breast, and a leg rolled into napa cabbage. The whole thing was paired beautifully with a Syrah from Santa Barbara that I wanted to take home and lock in the cellar in a non-Silence of the Lambs way.

The dessert courses started with compressed apple, a grenade with flavors of lemon and verbena, and buddha’s hand, refreshing and beautiful.

For the next dessert course, I had a passionfruit souffle, because I don’t eat chocolate. It was a potent mix of freshness and sweetness. It was paired with a silky-smooth, honeyesque wine that complimented it perfectly.

My only regret was that as I left the restroom, my husband was waiting for me at the host stand, and I did not get an opportunity to thank and embrace all the friends I made along the way. I hope that this review finds its way to them, so they know how much I...

So we visited again, our annual June dinner at Providence. It's nice that the automatic Yelp-sort defaults to your own past reviews; so I did a quick rereading of past write-ups. And there's no real change of how I feel about Providence. Our experience, like the menu, was different; though, there is no change in how I feel...I still LOVE them.

This year, we brought another couple so when the call came to confirm our reservation and check for allergies/dietary restrictions (there were none), they also asked if we'd like the Chef's Table!!! Well, YES, absolutely! We had dined at the chef's table once before. And in the time in between, there was a remodel. The chef's table is a luxurious U-shaped booth: it seats two facing the kitchen, and one seat each side, with a fifth seating (a chair) with the back to the kitchen (so optimally, you'd want no more than 4, but a fifth seat is available should your party need it). After a quick review on OpenTable, my guess is that we were long-time diners (since 2010) and a party of four (instead of our usual two) that lead them to offer us the coveted table.

Then came the cocktail and food menus. Carlos, who appears so serious and professional, is actually very charming and engaging. In fact, they ALL are; they all have this air of professionalism, astuteness, and graciousness, but they are all so extremely personable, each in their own way. Enoch, our other service professional, is mellow, sweet, funny and informative. Then there's Mr. Poto, famous for his congeniality (admittedly, I'm a fan), who has the best table-side manners anywhere. He comes by, welcomes us, shakes our hands, and everything feels right with the world (even though this administration just bombed Iran that evening.)

New this year is that there are now TWO menus: a $325 Classic and a $450 Chef's Tasting. The difference is that for the Classic, you'll select your main (usu salmon, duck or A5 wagyu); with the Chef's Tasting, you get all three. Knowing our appetites, we all elected to do the Classic (the men ordered duck; my sister and I chose salmon) and added a couple of their sinfully delicious and artfully beautiful uni egg. (The only reason we did not select A5 wagyu is that we all visited Japan this year, where we had wagyu. Also, Providence being a seafood restaurant, it only made sense for us to stick with seafood [duck, while poultry, is kinda seafood adjacent].)

The thing about Providence that I - who spent half my pre-adult life in Japan - absolutely love is the Japanese aesthetic, through and through. Their logo is evocative of the Zen/Japanese enso/circle. Their approach to seafood is of a thoughtful, masterful craftsman, continuously working toward improvement or kaizen. The flavours are deliciously understated. Everything is just enough, nothing is heavy handed or 'extra'. Both the food and the flavours are delicate, ephemeral and harmonious. Their service speaks to 'omotenashi'. For anyone who's been to and raves about Japanese service, omotenashi is that underlying trait...with an Italian flair (a nod to Mr. Poto's warmth).

The evening went by extremely smoothly and far too quickly; a three hour dinner sounds long, but our evening went by in a flash. The first-timer in our group was wowed by the evening. He was in amazement with the 'inexplicably delicious' food, the mindful service, and being able to see a busy kitchen working so smoothly. I had to apologise to him that this experience will ruin him to all others, because nothing will compare.

And huge appreciation to Chef Michael Cimarusti for acknowledging us in person. My apologies that you had to chase us down during a busy kitchen service, but I'm extremely grateful you caught us at the front door. It was an exceptional, memorable dining experience and we look forward to visiting again for many years to come. Congratulations on your 20 years and your third...

Providence: A Two-Star Experience That Fell Short of Its Promise

Deeply passionate about food and wine, Providence had long been on my list and I was genuinely excited to experience it. And I’ll admit, the evening started on a high note. We were warmly welcomed by an elegant gentleman, charming and soft-spoken, with the smooth poise of a young Harry Belafonte. The mood was calm, the lighting discreet. Since we were early, another staff member led us to the bar, where we were served the Bee’s Sneeze cocktail: a beautifully crafted mix of gin, Lillet, Meyer lemon, tangerine, fennel pollen, and rooftop lavender honey. Complex, delicate, and lovely. A perfect opening. But from there, things started to slide.

Despite a ready table, we were left at the bar, a not-so-subtle cue to consume more. Once seated, a woman with glasses took over our table. She never introduced herself or clarified her role. Her approach was awkwardly commercial. She immediately pushed us toward the chef’s tasting menu and the premium wine pairing, without clearly explaining how either compared to the classic options. When we asked for a detailed wine list, she seemed genuinely surprised. The interaction felt rushed and sales-driven rather than informed or passionate.

Asked about allergies, I mentioned a gluten intolerance, not strict, but something I prefer to avoid. She assured me there was no gluten in the menu. Yet the amuse-bouches contained gluten, and no gluten-free bread was offered. No follow-up, no care. For a restaurant of this caliber, it felt astonishingly careless.

To the food: a night of highs and lows. The Pacific oyster with Kaluga caviar, lime, and garden herbs was exquisite, perfectly cooked, melting in the mouth, with a balance of salinity and brightness. The 2021 Schramsberg Blanc de Noirs, while elegant, lacked the tension and personality to match. The tomato-basil sashimi, lifted by fresh herbs, was aromatic and vibrant. Paired with Tantaka 2022 Txakoli di Alava, it shined. But the Hokkaido scallop was overcooked, losing that melt-in-the-mouth delicacy I expected.

The Liberty Farms duck breast, presented whole then served as a single thin slice, was underwhelming. The Jonata "Todos" Ballard Canyon 202 red was equally flat, forgettable and ill-matched.

Then came the cheese course. A 13-month Comté lacking complexity, covered with faint, waterlogged Australian truffle and rooftop honey that smothered both. A second "house-created" cheese, stuffed with truffle and again honey-drenched, was dry and oversweet. It felt like an idea someone forgot to taste.

The dessert, with peach, yuzu, red shiso, and Hawaiian chocolate, lacked finesse. The mignardises were far too sweet and heavy, ending the meal on a clumsy note.

Some wine pairings were thoughtful, others off. The 2023 Bandol rosé, served alongside a dish of striped bass with vadouvan, eggplant, and sorrel, felt completely out of place. Still very young, closed, and austere, it lacked the vibrancy or roundness to balance a dish with spice, acidity, and aromatic complexity. It was not a bad wine, just the wrong wine.

One final detail, and for me, a telling one: our server, who at times acted like the sommelier (hard to tell, the brigade was confusing), confidently told us the "Todos" red blend included all grapes, including Sauvignon Blanc and Chardonnay. We asked him to repeat, and he confirmed. A quick check after dinner showed that was wrong. The wine has no white grapes. That kind of mistake should not happen.

I took the time to write about this experience because food and wine are not just indulgences for me. They’re a true passion. I came to Providence hoping for a moment of culinary clarity, of discovery and precision. What I found instead was a restaurant that seems to have lost a sense of depth, of intention, and, most of all, of soul.

Regretfully, I...