Mother Wolf

What does one say about the restaurant scene in the City of Angels in the 21^st Century?  To be granted the privilege, the permission, to be allowed to spend $300 per couple to be told what to eat, how it shall be prepared and how it shall be served by an unemployed Thespian studying for his GED exam.  To be crammed with the unwashed masses like Groucho Marx’s stateroom in “A Night at the Opera.”  To be oppressed with the din of a decibel level of the front row of an AC/DC concert.

The latest entry in this race to the bottom is Mother Wolf.  Contrary to all reasonable expectations, Mother Wolf breaks the mold with superb décor, service and food.  Mother Wolf is housed in the 1930s era art deco Citizen News building, once the home of the fourth largest newspaper in Los Angeles (how a newspaper could have been two ranks below the Herald-Examiner is for only the Gods to know).   Both the exterior and interior have been scrupulously restored to the original grandeur.

It is located on Wilcox Street in the heart of Hollywood, only a short stroll from Playboy Liquors and the Mark Twain Hotel (rooms to let for fifty cents). Fortunately, the LAPD Hollywood Station (home of Detective Bosch) is just feet away.

One is immediately struck by the spacious dining and bar areas.  The tables are comfortably arranged to allow conversation without one’s most intimate secrets being shared with adjacent busybodies.

The lovely birthday girl and your wizened homunculus of a reviewer arrived five minutes early for their reservation.  Rather than being made to wait for thirty minutes for this infraction like at other unnamed establishments of this ilk (except for Bestia and Felix, which will be named), we were immediately and deferentially escorted to our table.  Shortly thereafter we were greeted by a courteous waiter without the typical arrogant unctuousness or unctuous arrogance that we expected.  We were advised that the timing of delivery of our order would be by our desire, not that of the chef or wait staff!

Enough of the gastrobabble.  Time to move on to the raison d’être, the food.  What can one say, other than that the meal was beautifully presented, freshly prepared, generously sized and wonderfully tasty.  For appetizers we had the Suppli al Telefono (the Roman version of the Sicilian fried rice ball, arancini) stuffed with mozzarella and the Ruchetta arugula salad.

This was followed by the thin crusted margherita pizza (note the artisanal burnt edges).

For the main courses we had two of the specialty pasta dishes, the spaghetti all’arrabbiata and the rigatoni all’amatriciana.  The rigatoni was prepared with salsa di pomodoro, pecorino and guanciale.  The highly salty guanciale can be easily overused in a dish to the point of overpowering, but our chef employed just the proper amount so it was an accent to the flavors.

Since this was our beautiful companion’s birthday, the waiter brought a dessert (gratis and on the house) of a brioche overstuffed with lemon cream.

Mother Wolf restored our faith in the trendy hyperexclusive segment of the restaurant scene.  Keep this one on the QT and the hush hush lest it be impossible to get a reservation, even if one is on Resy at exactly 9:00 AM one week before the desired day.