Pleasure Pit
As a native Angeleno, the idea of an establishment paying homage to the La Brea Tar Pits — those synthetic pools of black ooze strewn with faux mastodons desperately attempting to free themselves while traffic along Wilshire mimetically crawls by — tickled me. So I was ecstatic to pop in for a drink (okay, several) at The Tar Pit, a new bar and restaurant from Campanile owner Mark Peel and cocktail connoisseur Audrey Saunders of New York’s Pegu Club.
When I first heard about the joint, located next to Cube on La Brea Avenue, it was described to me as a “man cave” boasting what were sure to be killer cocktails. But when I finally walked in, my snap assessment was that the place wasn’t nearly shlubby enough to be a proper man cave. It was, in fact, quite pretty.
Stepping in, you're greeted with a prim-and-proper moderne dining room, one I would imagine Mad Men's Don Draper retiring to for a steak Diane and a lowball, sans the "womenfolk." But after a few hours of chatting with folks at the bar, I came to realize that the Tar Pit literally is a man cave — that is, a cave full of men. And as a single women in a town full of trainwrecked men, I had to accept it as Manna from Heaven.
OLD SCHOOL: A cucumber-mint Creole cocktail. (Photo courtesy of Eating L.A.)
The Scene: As implied above, this is a veritable Russian bath house when it comes to the sheer number of men milling around. Expect the (industry) range: everything from twenty-something PA’s from Ben Stiller’s production house a few doors down, to after-work agents. Mostly, it’s a bunch of business types sprinkled with a few foodies. The atmosphere is convivial, but intimate; bustling, but you’re still able to have a conversation.
The Sightings: This place has yet to catch on with the red-carpet set, although their handlers dine here so it won’t be long.
The Visuals: Dark wood, cream Murano-glass chandeliers and pale, moss-green upholstery look especially elegant in the expertly lit space. The updated and subdued Hollywood Regency-style dining chairs have refreshingly sleek lines and the tables are set simply with candles. Thankfully, the bar is female-friendly with under-bar purse hooks conveniently staggered between each stool. The perimeter of the room is lined with cozy booths, which make both canoodling and wheeling-and-dealing that much easier.
The Dress Code: This a mature restaurant — fun, but not flippant (note the top-hatted, tuxedo-d cartoon mastodon toasting a martini while still sludging around in that tar) — so anything you were planning on wearing to the club, throw it back in your closet. The few women were outfitted in dark-colored, de-constructed dresses or leggings with over-the-knee boots and a knit wrap. Men wore button-down shirts (some a little too buttoned-down, if you know what I mean) and maybe a jacket, but definitely no ties.
The Hot Seat: Any of the small booths or tables in the corner furthest from the door (in the central portion of the dining room) are optimal. If you’re looking to grab a spot at the bar and want to people watch, the four seats behind the carved wooden screen separating the bar from the entrance are where you should position yourself. Otherwise, if you want to be in a prime spot to mingle, aim for a stool closer to the opposite end — the kitchen’s down there and more people tend to gather on that side.
The Drink: The super-helpful bartenders (smartly dressed in era-appropriate duds: short-waisted coats, crisp white shirts and black ties) will guide you through the cocktail list. The Jamaican Firefly (dark rum, housemade ginger beer, lime juice and simple syrup) and the Gin Gin Mule (gin, mint, lime simple syrup and housemade ginger beer) are the most popular; however, they’re game to make you a bespoke cocktail with whatever spirit you’ve got the taste for. I asked for whatever the bartender felt like making, praying I’d left myself in capable hands. I was. A few minutes later he showed up with a frosted glass, cupping something called a Red Hook, a whiskey-based libation mixed with Maraschino, part of an off-menu arsenal of drinks inspired by neighborhoods in Brooklyn.
The Door: The friendly staff will usher you right in, no attitude, no problem. Grabbing a seat at the bar has been easy both on the earlier (7ish) and later (11ish) sides. And thankfully, the full menu is available there, so if a sit-down ressie is too hard to come by (it’s been packed from 7:30pm on), you can still sample the dishes from the American-fare-inspired menu (the wild boar meatballs were quite delish, although tried-and-trues like shrimp Louie and coq au vin are also available).
The Parking: If it’s after 7 p.m., aim for a meter — there’s usually plenty along that part of La Brea. Otherwise, there’s a $5 valet in front, servicing both Cube and Tar Pit.
The Eavesdrop: “I tried to get Charlize to take a picture with it on, but she said to call her manager.”
The Tar Pit, 609 N. La Brea Ave. (323) 965-1300. tarpitbar.com