Linni Eats L.A.: Taking Heinz to New Heights at Ketchup

The Dolce Group can’t make up their mind about who to offend.

Be it exploiting Japanese culture with Geisha House or typecasting male business professionals at the Boardroom in Texas, this team of hospitality gurus certainly strives to be equal opportunity offenders.

Take their recent endeavor, Ketchup, a restaurant in West Hollywood, on Sunset where twinkly lights lining the street make you weary of Paris Hilton sneaking up and attacking you and every car driving by has a three-figure price tag. The chilling affluence is almost enough to make you hop back into your Honda and flee to Troy Burger.

The neighborhood, however, is not the repulsive part about this place. Neither was the food, which was some of the best I’ve had in Hollywood. No, what I can’t seem to shake from my feminist conscience are the menu headings. One side, dedicated to seafood dishes, bore the title of “Leading Ladies,” while the other side boasting steak and pork chops flew the banner of “Leading Men.” I’m sorry, but what decade is this?

If you aren’t offended yet, have a look at the “Threesome” appetizer, “Deliverance” pork chop glazed with bourbon and served with cheddar grits and apple sauce, or the “Naw Leans” shrimp pasta in a cajun brandy cream sauce.

But let me put social commentary on hold for a minute to discuss the essence of Ketchup. The condiment is king here—contemporary art portrayals of America’s Favorite #57 line the walls and a red glow saturates the entire space. The red sauce adopts an air of ubiquity that could potentially annoy you, if you hadn’t been raised on the stuff. Even the pretzel table rolls came with ketchup butter.

There were not, however, a mess of ketchup-themed drinks on the bar menu—sorry, bloody marys, but you have no place in West Hollywood. The drinks we ordered in the inventively classic-American cocktail lounge featured the likes of Yoo-Hoo and Grape Kool-Aid.

Once seated, we cut to the chase—five different ketchups, a parmesan onion ring tower, Cajun, sweet potato and parmesan garlic fries. Ketchup varietals included maple, chipotle, wasabi, ranch and mango—mango and wasabi were big disappointments. The best part of this was mixing and matching to find the best combos, and sweet potato fries in maple ketchup competed with a chipotle-parmesan-garlic combo for the top spot.

Our bubbly waitress fawned over the Ahi tuna special of the night, which did showcase some high-quality fish quite well, but that’s not what you come to a restaurant named Ketchup for. The menu is chock full of spruced up American classics, from Sam Adams beer can chicken and shake ‘n’ bake chicken crusted with pistachios to mini hot dogs and burgers made with Kobe beef.

One such classic was the rib dish, glazed with ketchup BBQ sauce. These were delicious, but it was hard to focus on the side of the plate they occupied when the other side featured something I haven’t been able to stop thinking about ever since. White truffle Dungeness crab mac ‘n’ cheese. Hallelujah, there is a god. With the perfect marriage of crunchy top, oozing center and surprisingly unique flavor, this is hands down the best thing Ketchup has to offer. Sorry, Kraft, but this is the cheesiest, not to mention the best mac ‘n’ cheese I’ve ever tasted.

The Belgian beer-soaked scallops with cured bacon and lobster smashed potatoes were certainly pleasant, although the potatoes failed to remind me of anything the ocean would produce. The dry-aged New York Strip steak had somehow been cooked to absolute perfection, something I didn’t expect in a trendy establishment on Sunset. The peppery outer crust held in a rare, bloody center that blended to render me weak in the knees.

Perhaps the chefs blew their load designing the dinner dishes and left no creative juices for dessert, but nothing on the final menu appealed to me. Maybe American-themed desserts are just not that titillating—perhaps that’s something we ought to leave to the French. Either way, classic sundaes, ding dongs, shortcakes and pies bored me—where’s the Ketchup cheesecake, guys?

My table opted to share the ice cream sandwich, a decision I gave thanks for between licks of the plate it came on. This is what an ice cream sandwich is supposed to taste like—are you taking notes, Diddy Reese? The cookie must have literally just emerged from the oven and somehow managed to stay warm the whole time, despite being surrounded by swathes of frozen silky vanilla. I probably had chocolate chips melting down my face, but I didn’t care.

Despite menu headings, I must admit this was an overall pleasant dining experience, albeit rather pricey. Luckily, the Dolce Group seems to have caught wise to their sexism—their online menu is now divided into “Land,” “Air” and “Sea.” But the Threesome isn’t going anywhere, and the menu at their Alabama location is arguably worse in terms of pigeonholing. Unfortunately for my ethical code, I think the quality of the food down south would get the best of me, too—they do, after all, have mac ‘n’ cheese skillets with chipotle white cheddar and bacon apple gorgonzola varieties. Road trip, anyone?

Menu & Prices available at www.dolcegroup.com/ketchup.