The nose-to-tail approach to food has been around since the beginning of time, yet somewhere along the way, America missed the boat. In this land of plenty, culinary tastemakers got it into their heads at some point that the ugly, the foul and the unmentionable were not fit to eat, much less serve in any respectable establishment, and foisted their misguided notions onto the rest of society. Never mind that the rest of the world has feasted happily on hooves, asses and everything in between for centuries - sometimes because they found it delicious, most of the time because they had no other choice. The result? A country where children think chickens are some kind of Frankenstein creature composed entirely of breasts and nuggets, where people object to the slightest crunch of cartilage in their gravy or hamburger, where the sight of a whole steamed fish on a platter, head and all, will send diners into the streets screaming bloody murder (and that's before the PETA demonstration outside your restaurant the next day).
Maybe Animal can change that for Los Angeles. But maybe not. Animal's focus is clearly on the joys of flesh, and not just the meaty, popular cuts that everyone will dive into. Pig ears, marrow bones, veal brains, bunny loins - it's all there, baldly splashed out onto the ever-changing menu. It is a restaurant that seems determined to convince the masses of the merits of what Anthony Bourdain affectionately terms the "nasty bits", to make the idea of eating a pig tail a little less scary by packaging the offending organ in clever plating, attractive garnishes, and a slick, trendy decor.
Pig ear, chili, lime, fried egg
Sweetbreads, pickled crosnes, spicy sweet and sour
Oddly enough, it is when the bits are the nastiest that Animal stumbles. An appetizer of pig ears dressed in chili, lime and a fried egg tasted overwhelmingly of lime and not much else. The ear had been shaved down into pitifully thin strips and fried, such that the unique interplay between cartilage and skin that is the hallmark of pig ear was completely lost, as was any noticeable pork flavor. It was reminiscent of, if you can believe it, a very tart, very exotic salad. Sweetbreads were battered, deep-fried and topped with dollops of a ketchup-like spicy sweet and sour concoction. They tasted more like morsels of fried chicken skin doused in Heinz than anything, the lush flavor and nubile texture of the organ obliterated by the batter and the sauce. A quick perusal of the menu reveals that Animal seems to have the same M.O. for most of its offal: deep-fry, then mask all potentially distressing characteristics with some kind of pungent condiment. It's disheartening, really, because despite Animal's earnest determination, it seems loath to take its diners out of their comfort zones, opting instead to make things taste and look safe and familiar. The offal is reduced to a mere vehicle for shock value and novelty, but no one is actually appreciating its virtues. It's like bungee-jumping while unconscious - why bother?
Veal brains, vadouvan, carrots, applesauce
Foie gras loco moco, quail egg, Spam, hamburger
Poutine, oxtail gravy, cheddar
Animal seems to regain its nerve with a dish of veal brains, lightly pan-fried, subtly spiced with vadouvan and served with tender, sweet carrots and applesauce. The simple, wholesome flavors of the carrot and apple were a surprisingly appropriate complement to the funky, almost unnerving richness of the brains, the ideal bridge between the everyday and the unknown. The kitchen really shines when it moves into more comfortable territory, and for Animal, that means rich, meaty ingredients folded into decadent variations on cult favorites. The restaurant's signature dish, the foie gras loco moco, is an extravagant twist on the Hawaiian classic, boasting seared lobes of foie gras and Spam atop a medium rare hamburger and a bed of Carolina Gold rice. Topped with a quail egg and sauced with a foie gras-based teriyaki and sriracha sauce, it is the perfect savory comfort food, its pleasing umami undertones punctuated by the acidity of the sriracha and the coolness of the scallions scattered about the plate. Animal's poutine is similarly over-the-top, the crisp fries dressed with a sticky-rich oxtail gravy deep with red wine flavor and salty hunks of cheddar. It's a bit of a gut-bomb, but in the best way possible. And the ever-fetishized bacon and chocolate combo makes an appearance on Animal's dessert menu in the form of a bacon-chocolate crunch bar, its thick bands of silken dark and milk chocolate studded with almost obscenely crunchy bits of bacon.
Bacon-chocolate crunch bar, salt & pepper anglaise
I like Animal. I really do. Jon Shook and Vinny Dotolo, the chefs, have talent in spades and the cojones to match when it comes to fashioning a daring restaurant concept. Enough is enough, the menu seems to say. It's time to show these pansies what a carcass is all about. On the plate, however, that bravado gives way to a flurry of apologies and soothing platitudes. To be fair, this probably isn't entirely Animal's fault. Diners are unrelentingly fussy, and no restaurant can undo a hundred years of grilled chicken breast propaganda overnight. Some handholding is to be expected. But Animal has the cachet and the potential to do for its various carnal misfits what Prune and Blue Ribbon did for the once-humble marrow bone - transform them into lusted-after delicacies, rather than something skeptical hipsters choke down just to say they've eaten thymus glands. I just wish they'd do it.
Animal
435 N. Fairfax Ave.
Los Angeles, CA 90036
Phone: (323) 782-9225
Best dishes: Veal brains, poutine, foie gras loco moco, bacon chocolate bar
Hours: Sun-Thurs, 6pm-11pm; Fri & Sat, 6pm-2am
