![]() ![]() If anyone can spark a vermouth craze among Angelenos, he can.īar Moruno' mackerel conservas. On the opposite end of the Axta Blanco spectrum, Rosoff pours a peppery, full-throttle number from Italian producer Fred Jerbis that’s aged in cherry-wood barrels. It would have been fantastic as a geeky enterprise, but it’s probably more practical that he instead seeks out a half-dozen expressive examples of white and red sipping vermouths. ![]() The pairing speaks to the restaurant’s fundamental aims: Rosoff had originally plotted a vermouth bar as part of Moruno, serving his own formula on tap. Alongside I like a glass of Atxa Blanco vermouth, dry but not too dry, citrusy and spicy but nowhere approaching overkill with its mix of botanicals. They bathe in olive oil, garnished with pickled onions and swirls of butter piped through the kind of fine nozzle you’d use to write “happy birthday” on a cake. In all cases, kick things off with anchovies. Feldmeier crafts a menu that, while not unwieldy, obliges varied moods and appetites: snacks for a quick bar bite enough compelling small dishes to make a filling spread of tapas and some heftier entrees to tip the meal into a substantial coursed dinner. (Ricardo DeAratanha / Los Angeles Times)Īt last, the framework feels secure in every sense. Vegetable morunos are one of two such namesake dishes at Bar Moruno. ![]() ![]() They opened a stall in Grand Central Market in 2016 it also closed in less than a year. The duo served sandwiches and, yes, meats and vegetables grilled on sticks while building out the restaurant, which ended up having a short 10-month run. Moruno - taken from pinchos morunos, the kebab dish that translates as “Moorish skewers” and is ubiquitous in southern Spain - technically began as a takeout window at the Original Farmers Market in 2015. The moment has been long in coming for Rosoff and Feldmeier’s brainchild. It’s packed constantly, with the second-round-of-drinks kind of energy that comes when a vibe clicks with the neighborhood. Yet the restaurant feels even more alive when night fully descends and the place grows dim inside too. Color saturates the dining room: mottled wood floors, banquettes dyed a soft mustard, the bar painted in shades of eggplant and moss. On long summer days, sunlight seeps through Bar Moruno’s narrow windows to illuminate its tight, handsome space well into the evening. More than the food, I most remember his high-wattage grin and his hands gesticulating his impassioned opinions. Then he steered me to a pumpkin-colored, apricot-scented model of balance from Greece. Though he’d centered Hippo’s list on wineries dedicated to sustainable practices, he also railed about the general vagueness of the term “natural wine” and how vinegary so many that fall under the equally broad “skin contact” label could be. Rosoff responded with a screed - a cheerful one. I was on an orange wine jag at the time (many of us were) and asked for a recommendation. He had plenty of responsibilities but, as I’d come to learn, he’d happily materialize tableside to discuss his favorite subject. Our exchange was a few years back when he was general manager at Hippo in Highland Park. I’ll never forget my first conversation with David Rosoff, one of the great wine savants of Los Angeles who has been helping to shape our tastes for decades. Carrot salad, chickpeas and spinach, anchovies and tortilla española at Bar Moruno. ![]()
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