A decade ago, I used to live in Redondo Beach. And I return at least once a year – usually for business – and still dine with an old foodie friend who always keeps me apprised of new and interesting restaurants. There was some local buzz of a French/Japanese fusion restaurant on the pier, Maison Riz, which had only recently set up shop, complete with a very large, glowing sign.  We called to make sure we could be seated and was told that if we arrived within 15 minutes, there would be room. When we arrived, we could see that more than ¾ of the restaurant was entirely empty.

There was some quandary about the menu as we wanted to try as many dishes as possible. The restaurant offered a six-course Riz Tasting menu which we ordered along with some additional dishes. Our waiter was young and energetic (maybe just legal to drink) and although he tried to exude sophistication.

The first course was a quiche-like something. It was barely warm and made with a puff pastry that was extremely rubbery. The dish was flavorless and piled atop a mound of over-dressed, limp lettuce. This dish arrived before we had an opportunity to even place a drink order. We were pondering the wine list and asked if they had a sommelier. We asked three different people several times if they had a sommelier. The bus boy was not sure what we were asking for and asked a waitress to help us. We repeated the request a number of times and without admitting ignorance of the word, she responded that she would check with the kitchen. Pondering a sparkling sake, there was a chance that it was dry or sweet, but no one seemed to know and our waiter’s only response was that someone had tasted it last week and enjoyed it.

The second course was a small tasting of crudo. However, under the two raw seafood preparations, was a puddle of spinach, a few pink peppercorns, and  citrus oil. I know that one of the fish offerings was tuna, but I can’t tell you what the white fish was. On top of the two fishes was uni and caviar. It was layered far too high to gather all of the ingredients, but even with those I did get in my first bite, my initial reaction was “train wreck.” It was extremely reminiscent of the sickly-sweet perfume I wore as a nine-year old. There were too many disparate flavors and the muddled, strident tones of the ingredients conflicted with each other. Served alongside was a tuille of parmesan cheese studded with sesame seeds, but the cracker was woefully stale. Thankfully, our order of individual glasses of champagne arrived to help cleanse the palate. The dish was piled so high as to be laughable with the ¼ teaspoon-sized utensils offered. I believe this was intended to be more along the lines of an amuse, but instead of amusing, I was aghast. I made a comment that I would not be remotely offended if we wanted to cut bait and leave, but we agreed to give them one more try. As we looked at each other in horror as the bread basket arrived. What looked to be potentially beautiful, crusty bread was in fact bread that had either been steamed or microwaved. I’m not sure this was the straw that broke our camel’s back, but it definitely showed an astonishing lack of professionalism on the part of the kitchen.

Our third course was a salad that was described as “Crab Ceasar.” The travesty which was offered was yet another multi-layered concoction of discordant components; intensely strong pesto underneath fried, greasy shoestring potatoes, under overly-dressed miso/Ceasar greens, under a salad of crab meat which was gloppy in its mayonnaise-based dressing, which was under some shredded vegetable of indeterminate origin. Yes, you read corrently: Three different dressings in one “salad,” none of which were balanced or remotely appetizing. And to have all three composed in one dish was atrocious. It was here that we started calling for servers to tell them to stop the meal.  We were just on the border of the evening being early enough to salvage some potential dining time and we needed to make our escape soon if we were going to have an opportunity at another establishment.

Unfortunately, another course arrived. It was in an oddly useless piece of service ware; a deep, oblong bowl on top of which was a two-handled, ceramic “spoon” which kept it from lying flat on its own. In the bowl itself was crab ravioli garnished with two over-cooked, ruby prawns. The ravioli dough was gummy and the sauce akin to Chef Boyardee. In the spoon-like attachment were two prosciutto-wrapped cherry tomatoes. For whatever reason, they call this “prosciutto maki” and garnished it again with the horrendous pesto.

The manager had arrived as my companion explained that the meal was just not working for us. I was reaching for my purse to escape, when the manager begged the indulgence of continuing the meal. I will grant that the restaurant is new and that it takes some time to iron out problems, but with the short time I have to visit, I was in no mood to be anyone’s guinea pig. To his credit, the manager pleaded for a return visit and while it seems obvious the chef has had some formal training, he seems to be one that is newly graduated from cooking school with the idea that good food must be a complicated mélange of flavors, but it seems shockingly evident that the chef has little experience with taste components or flavor matching.

Looking at their website, the mystery continues in presenting themselves as offering “French-Japanese inspired cuisine featuring European culinary traditions and ingredients indigenous to Japan.” I was unaware that pesto and fried shoestring potatoes were indigenous to Japan. Their website promotes “a distinctive wine list highlighting petite vineyards.” When was Beringer’s White Zinfandel’s vineyards ever considered petite? Well, they didn’t mislead in one regard; they state that their “goal is provide all the necessary elements that will result in an unforgettable dining experience, creating memories that will last a lifetime.” Man, there is no chance of me EVER forgetting this dining experience. I wish I could.

The post Maison Riz first appeared on Feast Blog.

I have become a broken record on the state of Yakitori in San Francisco; you can’t throw a dead cat in any neighborhood of that illustrious city and not hit a Japanese restaurant, yet there is a not a single yakitori establishment anywhere in it’s small confines. Yeah, I have heard of a few in South San Francisco or down on the peninsula, but in San Francisco proper, there is nary formal barbeque utilizing the essential Kishu Binchō-tan, or charcoal wood. This means my occasional trips to Southern California always necessitate a visit to a Yakitori restaurant, of which there are a plethora (go figure). Shin-Sen-Gumi has been my go-to yakitori for years but on the occasion of hitting L.A. for my birthday, old friend and local food writer Richard Foss suggested a new joint he had heard good things about, Izakaya Bincho in Redondo Beach. It was slightly surreal because Redondo was where I called home for almost a decade and left over seven years ago for the wiles of Napa (eventually decamping for San Francisco). Odd to walk the boardwalk, hear the Saturday night mating calls from nearby Naja’s, a local watering hole, and see the changes in a neighborhood I had known so well…

We arrived to this tiny, 24-seat establishment to see “Reserved” signs all over the restaurant. Okay, so it must be popular. Snagging a seat at the bar, we got to watch husband-and-wife team, Tomo and Megumi work the entire restaurant. With strains of industrial shamison music in the background, Tomo is the master of the charcoals and moves with the speed of svelte leopard. Megumi, his wife, elegantly clad in kimono and obi, acts as waitress, hostess, server, and dishwasher. When we indicate that sake will definitely be ordered, Megumi presented us with a basket of glass cups from her refrigerator; pre-chilled, we get to choose which cup we wish to drink from. Of course wanting to eat as many different flavors as possible, we ordered the “Bincho,”  the largest chef’s selection of ten skewers for $25.00. We let Tomo know that challenging meats were definitely acceptable. While Tomo was preparing our skewers, Megumi started us out on our sake as well as some edamame and cabbage salad. He double-checked, “You sure? It is stuff like liver and gizzards…” You betcha, Tomo!  Our skewer selection was as follows:

• Meatball (better than Shin-Sen-Gumi’s!!!! Could it be true?)
• Thigh with leek (I adore leeks)
• Thigh with chopped onions (might have been my favorite chicken dish of the evening; complex and rich and we wanted to eat every single bit of onion after the meat was gone)
• Wings, flattened with a crispy exterior (a tad salty, but tasted great)
• Thigh with cheese (the least successful of the night — well, just plain wrong actually. The grilled meat, dipped in teriyaki sauce, is then topped with a slice of plastic-wrap cheese-like-product until melted)
• Thigh with perilla leaf (complex and elegant)
• Cartilage (deep fried and very fresh tasty with its chewy interior contrasting the light crunchy breading)
• Liver (oh yeah, baby, it is getting good. Even Mr. Rick who is not a liver fan ate more than a single bite)
• Hearts (so tender and interestingly served fileted instead of served whole as I am accustomed to having them served)
• Gizzard (I am giddy at this point)

Knowing we were going to want to taste other bits on the menu, we also ordered the shiitake mushroom skewer which is stuffed with chicken meat and served with ponzu sauce. Another dish was eggplant soup, tender chunks of eggplant fried and served in a rich broth with a ton of green onions and topped with grated pickled daikon radish. This was an incredibly rich, complex soup despite the limited ingredients.

We also ordered a skewer of ginko nuts and a rice ball, but at this point in the evening, the restaurant was packed and it was obvious that Megumi and Tomo were a tad overwhelmed. With a bit of a delay, our meal had settled sufficiently to where we realized we didn’t need more savory. Canceling those last two dishes, I did order dessert, a final skewer of grilled marshmallows. Cheeky and a bit unorthodox, I’m sure. I didn’t care. It was a charming, fun finish to a delightful evening. It might actually make me considering moving back to my old home…

Yakitori Bincho
112 N. International Boardwalk
Redondo Beach, CA 90277
(310) 376-3889

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