Quiet ambition, riveting tastes

COOKS used to dream about opening their own little restaurant with an herb garden out back and their spouse at the door.

Many of L.A.’s most beloved restaurants -- places like Joe’s in Venice or Josie in Santa Monica or Avenue in Manhattan Beach -- were created in that spirit, started by chefs more interested in cooking than in being famous.

These days, cooking school grads are more likely to dream about having their own show on the Food Network or coming up with a restaurant concept that can be cloned -- New York, Paris, Tokyo, Singapore. Inspired by Wolfgang Puck and Nobu Matsuhisa, they envision their names emblazoned on restaurants all over the globe.

And looking at the high-profile, design-driven, group-owned restaurants that have been opening in waves lately -- places such as Bridge, Minx, Memphis and Republic -- invites the question: Is there anybody left who just wants to open a small, personal restaurant?

Well, yes, as it happens. Karen and Quinn Hatfield, who were celebrated co-chefs at Cortez in San Francisco, have moved back to Los Angeles, Karen’s hometown, and opened their own small restaurant called Hatfield’s, on Beverly Boulevard.

The two met when they worked at Spago. But Quinn moved on to Jean Georges and Bouley in New York, and Karen to Gramercy Tavern, Jojo and Vong before they were again able to work together in San Francisco at Cortez.

And now they have Hatfield’s together. It’s a sweet place, up a few steps from the street, with a small patio that runs along the front and down one side of the building. Inside, the former Le Chine Wok space is spare and simple, with tables swathed in white linen, extremely comfortable blond, woven chairs and a fanciful linear chandelier with dangling crystals lined up in a row above the bar.

You can just barely see into the kitchen where Quinn is at work with his crew. Karen is the dessert chef and a warm presence in the dining room.

The feeling is relaxed and unhurried, and at least on the nights I was there, the dining room and patio were quiet enough to talk in, easily, over dinner, something that’s rare in L.A. The decor has a quiet calm, too, that allows the food to star.

A meal at Hatfield’s begins with an amuse. It might be a small glass of watermelon sangria, a shock of cool on a warm summer night. Or a chilled asparagus soup, accompanied by a stuffed quail egg served on a demitasse spoon. Flavored with smoked trout, the quail egg’s filling is lush and smoky.

Then come rolls, wonderful warm puffs of dough gilded with cheese from Breadbar in West Hollywood. They’re so good you could keep eating them all night, especially since someone is there to offer more as soon as you finish one. Better not, there’s more to come.

Not many, I suspect, are going to pass up the appetizer of charred Japanese octopus. First, it shows the chef is following his own muse, unworried about what’s supposed to go over in Los Angeles. It’s a bold dish, the meaty, almost sweet octopus sitting on an olive and red wine puree and plated with roasted fennel and vanilla-scented hearts of palm. It’s a lot of flavors dancing around, but Hatfield finds the balance.

Croque-madame is a delightful play on the typical Parisian sandwich, only instead of ham and cheese, it’s hamachi sashimi and prosciutto sandwiched between buttered, grilled brioche with a quail’s egg cracked on top.

Sweet corn raviolini in a warm salad makes a lovely summer appetizer too, their milky sweetness offset by pickled shallots and bright cherry tomatoes.

When the Hatfields were in San Francisco, I loved their bold, sensual cooking at Cortez, where the small-plates menu shuffled flavors from the Mediterranean, riffing on dishes from Spain, Morocco, Greece and Italy. Finding that kind of gutsy food in a hotel setting felt like a miracle.

Divvying up duties

HERE, though, with chef duties more divided than shared, Quinn, who is the executive chef, is going for something more ambitious. He’s experimenting with the slow cooking that fascinates the avant-garde led by Ferran Adria at El Bulli in Spain.

And when Hatfield’s first opened, some of the main courses seemed, like a website, still under construction. Too many of the meats, such as the butter-poached veal filet, had a similar soft, yielding texture, as if Quinn had banished crispy from his vocabulary. But now, three months later, the kitchen has found its footing, and the cooking feels more assured and grounded.

Slow-roasted squab breast, which is soft and yielding, is paired with the leg cooked as a crispy schnitzel and accompanied by Middle European-inspired, braised red cabbage and fingerling potatoes. Duck breast arrives in a hauntingly delicate wheat beer jus with a touch of melting, tender foie gras and batons of zucchini on the side.

Instead of mashed potatoes or polenta, he serves the duck with Japanese pearl barley, as big as fresh corn kernels, in a blizzard of chives. It’s this kind of dish that makes Hatfield’s stand out from the crowd of French-California restaurants all influenced by each other. The Hatfields come to the table with their own ideas and point of view.

The kitchen is particularly good on fish. On one visit I have Alaskan halibut poached in olive oil and served with pickled ramps and asparagus with duck cracklings. On another occasion, the halibut has the same lovely custardy texture, but it sits on a bed of orange-scented ruby beets, garnished with creme fraiche fired up with horseradish, micro beet greens and toasted pepitas.

Meat dishes have finesse too. Hanger steak is rosy slices fanned out on the plate and escorted by millet-dusted short ribs, so you get a bite of steak, a bite of braised beef for your entertainment.

Tender, sweet lamb

BUT the big surprise is the lamb crusted with dates and mint. The rich sweetness of the dates, along with the soothing fresh mint, enhances the taste of the tender, Australian lamb. And, despite the sweet crust, the whole complex of flavors works with red wine.

The wine list isn’t fancy, just a short, sweet list of well-priced wines from around the world. I like the idea that you can drink a Verdicchio from the Marches in Italy or an Anjou Blanc from the Loire, followed by a Pinot Noir from Oregon or a Cornas from the northern Rhone.

The list, however, could use a few more choices under $50. Wine service is competent and easy-going, and the servers know not to pour too much wine in the glass. You want your red chilled down a bit? Not a problem.

That’s the attitude at Hatfield’s in general: Service is crisp and professional yet not a bit stiff, not an easy thing to pull off.

The French-California menu is small, proposing a handful of appetizers and a handful of main courses. But it changes every week, not completely, but enough that frequent diners can find something new and appealing. There’s also a $42 three-course market menu, and these have been some of my favorite meals.

One night it starts with a wild arugula salad scattered with sliced, toasted almonds, and embellished with prosciutto and shaved manchego. The dressing is olive oil and a few drops of good, aged aceto balsamico -- simple and perfect. The main course is whole pan-roasted poussin cut in quarters and incredibly moist inside, served with great fresh corn. To finish, strawberry shortcake made with cream biscuits and farmers market strawberries.

Another night it’s marinated heirloom tomatoes -- green, gold and red -- with raw goat’s milk feta and Thai basil; then Santa Barbara sea bass in brown butter gribiche with a summer bean salad; and to finish, creme fraiche cheesecake with strawberry and fig salad.

Or, if the whole table will go for it, there’s a seven-course chef’s tasting menu for $72. Your waiter will ask if there’s anything you don’t like or anything in particular on the menu you’d want to be sure to include, and the chef takes it from there.

Desserts are delicious, informed by Karen Hatfield’s fine sensibility and command of technique. Her buttermilk panna cotta has an entrancing delicacy. It’s a pale ivory custard so fragile it seems to shiver on the plate, decorated with a button of strawberry gelee and served with a pretty peach-colored citrus camomile sorbet. Another highlight is her sugar and spice beignets -- tender, yeasty puffs dusted with sugar and cinnamon, served warm, with a crock of Venezuelan chocolate fondue for dipping, and a petit shot of sassafras milkshake.

To cap the evening, Karen Hatfield will send out a plate of mignardises, and they’re anything but usual: inch-wide dark chocolate cupcakes topped with a soft espresso meringue. One bite. Mmm.

And as you leave, she’s there, standing in the doorway smiling a goodbye. Just like those little places in France that win everyone’s heart. Well, here, L.A., is one for us.

*

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Hatfield’s

Rating: ** 1/2

Location: 7458 Beverly Blvd. (at Gardner Street), Los Angeles; (323) 935-2977; www.hatfieldsrestaurant.com.

Ambience: Charming, small, sleek restaurant with husband-and-wife owners who are both chefs. A handful of tables fit on the patio alongside.

Service: Personable and committed.

Price: Appetizers, $12 to $16; main courses, $26 to $32; desserts, $9 to $10; market menu, $42; seven-course tasting menu, $72.

Best dishes: Charred Japanese octopus with hearts of palm, warm summer salad with sweet corn raviolini and cherry tomatoes, croque-madame with hamachi, mint-and-date-encrusted lamb, pan-roasted hanger steak with millet-dusted short ribs, buttermilk panna cotta, sugar and spice beignets.

Wine list: Small, but select. Corkage fee, $20.

Best table: The corner one on the small patio.

Special features: Patio dining, prix fixe menus, weekly menu changes.

Details: Open for dinner Monday through Thursday from 6 to 10 p.m.; Friday and Saturday, 6 to 10:30 p.m. Full bar. Valet parking, $5.50.

Rating is based on food, service and ambience, with price taken into account in relation to quality. ****: Outstanding on every level. ***: Excellent. **: Very good. *: Good. No star: Poor to satisfactory.