Taix: A Bit of French Countryside, Tex
I recently wrote in another article about the idea of upscaling peasant food, and how many culinary representations reflecting a country of origin, has in some manner evolved to their version of haute cuisine. In America, we have allowed the French masters to convince us that haute cuisine only refers to French food. In the strictest definition, this is true. It is a French phrase, and refers to a specific style of preparation and presentation.
Taix is a modest restaurant in an unassuming location that serves French country food, which means there is no foie gras or osetra filled eggs here. Taix started in 1927 at the Champ d'Or Hotel in Los Angeles' French quarter downtown (don'tcha know), and has resided at its location on Sunset in Echo Park since 1962. I've passed it a million times on the way home, and never gave it a second thought. Since, lately, I've been hitting French Bistros, I figured I'd give this place a try.
The plain exterior belies a cozy courtyard hidden beyond the outside doors. The area is quite expansive, hosting a few banquet rooms, a lounge area, buffet room and regular dining room. It definitely has an old world French look and feel. I can't say if that is good or bad, because, depending on what angle you sit, it feels like a museum or mausoleum.
It also felt like a mausoleum because it took about 25 minutes for our server to acknowledge us. Uh oh. They knew we were there because we got bread and water. But this isn't the Bastille, and I'm not a prisoner, and I have higher expectations from a French restaraunt.
Contrition, however, was swift and resolute. No, we didn't get anything comped, but we did enjoy the requisite French snivelling juxtaposed with a proper expression of disdain. The French perfected diplomacy in all its caculated deliberation, and simultaneously its underhanded counterpart, duplicity.
I corrected the waiter who had mistakingly brought me red wine. It was with a noticable dose of smarm that, following a very contorted look, I was informed they didn't serve Chimay Red.
"Eh? We don't have Chimay." Fine, a French restaurant that forsakes Chimay, Fischer and Kronenberg 1664 for Michelob, Budweiser and Heineken. Ok, things are shaping down to be a crappy experience. But wait, behind the French Smarm is some American Charm, and he starts to banter with us and talk about the menu and the fine offerings...He was an older guy, so I figured he's been doing this a while, I'd let the other stuff slide.
The food was pretty good, nothing spectacular, and really didn't look traditionally French. We ordered the Mazoh Ball soup, and got the weinerschnitzel. I'm kidding, but we did start with calamari and split pea soup. They leave the bowl of soup and the ladle with you, so you can have an endless bowl. Like Olive Garden!
For my entree I got the trout with lemon, butter, caper sauce. It came with haricort vert, naturally, and steamed carrots, naturally. My wife got sirloin steak with pesto butter. Like Sizzler! Both dishes were competent, but nothing spectacular. I say that without criticism...I didn't expect outlandish food because the food was reasonably priced, and they don't present themselves as fine dining.
The space is comfortable, if a bit outdated. The staff has attitude, but I think in a forgivable, good way. They have a straightforward menu so older people won't get confused, and dates won't take a million years figuring out how to spend your money while acting engaged and thrifty. The food is pretty good, and that's exactly my expectation. So, I guess it's with ambivalence that I sort of endorse this restaurant.
Taix is a modest restaurant in an unassuming location that serves French country food, which means there is no foie gras or osetra filled eggs here. Taix started in 1927 at the Champ d'Or Hotel in Los Angeles' French quarter downtown (don'tcha know), and has resided at its location on Sunset in Echo Park since 1962. I've passed it a million times on the way home, and never gave it a second thought. Since, lately, I've been hitting French Bistros, I figured I'd give this place a try.
The plain exterior belies a cozy courtyard hidden beyond the outside doors. The area is quite expansive, hosting a few banquet rooms, a lounge area, buffet room and regular dining room. It definitely has an old world French look and feel. I can't say if that is good or bad, because, depending on what angle you sit, it feels like a museum or mausoleum.
It also felt like a mausoleum because it took about 25 minutes for our server to acknowledge us. Uh oh. They knew we were there because we got bread and water. But this isn't the Bastille, and I'm not a prisoner, and I have higher expectations from a French restaraunt.
Contrition, however, was swift and resolute. No, we didn't get anything comped, but we did enjoy the requisite French snivelling juxtaposed with a proper expression of disdain. The French perfected diplomacy in all its caculated deliberation, and simultaneously its underhanded counterpart, duplicity.
I corrected the waiter who had mistakingly brought me red wine. It was with a noticable dose of smarm that, following a very contorted look, I was informed they didn't serve Chimay Red.
"Eh? We don't have Chimay." Fine, a French restaurant that forsakes Chimay, Fischer and Kronenberg 1664 for Michelob, Budweiser and Heineken. Ok, things are shaping down to be a crappy experience. But wait, behind the French Smarm is some American Charm, and he starts to banter with us and talk about the menu and the fine offerings...He was an older guy, so I figured he's been doing this a while, I'd let the other stuff slide.
The food was pretty good, nothing spectacular, and really didn't look traditionally French. We ordered the Mazoh Ball soup, and got the weinerschnitzel. I'm kidding, but we did start with calamari and split pea soup. They leave the bowl of soup and the ladle with you, so you can have an endless bowl. Like Olive Garden!
For my entree I got the trout with lemon, butter, caper sauce. It came with haricort vert, naturally, and steamed carrots, naturally. My wife got sirloin steak with pesto butter. Like Sizzler! Both dishes were competent, but nothing spectacular. I say that without criticism...I didn't expect outlandish food because the food was reasonably priced, and they don't present themselves as fine dining.
The space is comfortable, if a bit outdated. The staff has attitude, but I think in a forgivable, good way. They have a straightforward menu so older people won't get confused, and dates won't take a million years figuring out how to spend your money while acting engaged and thrifty. The food is pretty good, and that's exactly my expectation. So, I guess it's with ambivalence that I sort of endorse this restaurant.
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