Loup De Mer Tableside Service - Vertical Wine Bistro

I wanted to highlight a certain aspect of service that I touched on briefly in my review of Vertical, but will expand upon after seeing it in action. David Haskell learned the intricacies of proper tableside service during his days at the famed Le Cirque (what I consider to be the quintessential New York restaurant, though it may have lost its luster lately). These days, we might see some elements of tableside service at places such as Craft, Bistro LQ, or Providence. I appreciate the fact that Haskell has made it a regular part of the menu at Vertical Wine Bistro, an aspect that elevates the overall experience at the restaurant.

Aside from the presentation, there's a sense of celebration, elegance, and pride when a dish is served at the table. The commitment to show food in its unadulterated form and then have it expertly constructed before one's eyes gives the diner the sense that the food comes from somewhere, that it's handled with care.

I was able to get a sneak preview of a new dish served tableside at Vertical - a whole loup de mer or line-caught seabass. It's interesting to see loup de mer featured on more and more menus here in L.A., with the notable restaurants being the newly relocated Hatfield's at the former Citrus residence, as well as Bashan, a tiny fine dining spot in North Glendale. Of course, branzino, the Italian name for the same fish, can be found served tableside at Marino (shown on FoodGPS) baked in a kosher salt crust or baked in tomato sauce. I happen to love the version they have at Canele, where the branzino is salt-roasted and served with a parsley-caperberry salad.

Haskell wanted to have a challenge for himself on the tableside menu, since he already has whole grilled cote de boeuf and roasted jidori chicken to handle. It was very interesting to see the development of this dish from near the beginning to the end.

The first few times that Haskell tested the tableside service, he would work with precision and determination, deftly handling a flat saucier spoon to pull off the parts of the fish that are taken off. But after making a few cuts and pulling away the bottom and top ridges, he'd find a wealth of loose bones still remaining in the meat. Expletives resulted, sometimes placing blame on himself, other times on the way the fish was cooked.

One afternoon, with the large skylight in Vertical's main dining room giving a soft illumination for the large banquette, I sat watching Haskell place another test fish upon a lowly lit butane fire.

There's a nervous tension as Akili Steward, the assistant sommelier, watches in the background. I'm sitting at the banquette, pretending to be a customer while Haskell works furiously to prepare the fish. A wide commercial sautepan, cleaned but still dark from its tempered cast iron material, holds the nearly footlong fish. Chef Doug Weston works to properly roast the fish, giving it a golden sheen while being keen not to overcook the delicate flesh.


Doing the loup de mer tableside is a race against time, as Haskell has to work quickly or else the bottom of the fish will stick to the pan and overcook. He makes choice surgical incisions across the gills, separating the head and then working down the top of the fish to take off the bones that jut in. The third part involves carefully working with the belly, which has a number of sneaky little bones that can remain in the tender white flesh. Haskell can almost immediately tell if the proper cooking of the fish has made him able to take out the bones. To present the fish, he'll place both the bottom and top fillets on top of each other, as if the bones and extra parts were mysteriously taken away. The goal is to make it still look palatable despite the work that's been done on it.


We later learn that the fish can be cleaned out differently by the purveyor, making the bones near the belly less of an issue. This certainly made serving the dish much easier, and I was able to finally try it properly during a meal shared with Javier.

The dish comes with a lineup of thin, grilled asparagus and a delicious corn-tomato slaw that's like a succotash. The part that really makes me swoon though is a small pour of delicious beurre blanc, which has a twinge of acidity that cuts through rich butteryness. The beurre blanc is poured gently over the fish, which by now has been rid of its bones and placed carefully with the fillets showing their wonderfully crisp, salty skins.

The flesh of the meat is almost sweet it's so good, melting in your mouth with a tender texture that's not too flaky. What I love about this dish is how much it reminds me of fried Korean johgee gui, or pan-fried fish (an excellent version of which is found at Jeon Ju Restaurant in Koreatown). Instead of squeeze of fresh lemon, you get the citrus via a luscious beurre blanc. The smell of frying fish, which can off-putting to some, is incredibly appetizing to me, and the aromas fill the room because of the presentation on the heated skillet.

David might pair the loup de mer with a glass of white Burgundy, or perhaps Condrieu Viognier.

The price for the dish is $35 but with the sides and the overall service, I think it's worth it. The dish probably has enough for hungry one person, but it can be shared by two if you've already had a number of appetizers.