Took my best friend to Hatchet Hall for his birthday. God damn. #1 restaurant in LA for me right now, completely cinched. There’s always somewhere with some kind of fire, some kind of magic in their cooking that is ineffable, and incredible, and whatever that is, Hatchet Hall is possessed by.
Pork Belly Gratons
https://www.instagram.com/p/BCPQSXIk0Ey/?taken-by=compulsiveaesthete
Endive, Apple, White Cheddar Salad
https://www.instagram.com/p/BCPQi6KE0FN/?taken-by=compulsiveaesthete
Kalbi with Peanuts in a Sorghum Sauce
https://www.instagram.com/p/BCPQwVxk0Fb/?taken-by=compulsiveaesthete
Octopus with Treviso, Runner Beans, and Aioli
https://www.instagram.com/p/BCPRCSiE0Fx/?taken-by=compulsiveaesthete
Wood Grilled Artichoke and Lemon Aioli
https://www.instagram.com/p/BCPRHz2E0F6/?taken-by=compulsiveaesthete
Hangar Steak and Bone Marrow
https://www.instagram.com/p/BCPRmc3k0Gj/?taken-by=compulsiveaesthete
Chicken Liver Toast and Pickles
https://www.instagram.com/p/BCPSA2Sk0HK/?taken-by=compulsiveaesthete
It’s gotten to the point where I am not sure I need to describe each dish. The tag on Hatchet Hall’s instagram is “What is an American restaurant?”. Indeed, I believe Johnathan Gold got it wrong when he said Otium is the most ambitious restaurant in LA currently, as he has yet to visit Hatchet Hall for some reason. Not only is the cooking absolutely remarkable, waves of hedonistic flavor pulsating through the core of every dish, but the subtle combinations on the plate, the composition of the dishes in concept, and the curation of the menu itself defy definition. At first glance one imagines Hatchet Hall a rowdy Southern American eating hall of some sort, but diving beneath that surface one finds a deep conversation about what it means to serve American food. Feasting on this bevy of plates I could feel the soul of the city, vinegar sauces reminiscent of late night Thai escapades, Korean cut shortribs in Sorghum that conjure up memories of the first time one experience great Korean fusion at Kogi, horribly hedonistic chicken liver done in a way no one else is doing it…where are you? It feels like you’re at a big backyard barbecue with a bunch of neighbors…your mom is charring up some chicken, your korean buddy brought kalbi, but the guys down the street from Minnesota are pouring some kind of syrup on it, some guy from Atlanta is pouring white cheddar sauce all over the freshly picked produce the Westside girls in yoga pants brought to the party… no one really fucking knows what’s going on, but it’s really relaxed, and really ridiculously awesome.
And if it was just an awesome, wild place with incredible food that would be enough to recommend it a million times over, but in a profound way the food here calls into question exactly what it means to call a restaurant American, to call cuisine American; there seem to be no limits, but there is no finer place to be a philosopher, or a gourmand than Hatchet Hall.