In one mention of the opening of Bar Chelou, in the restaurant space adjacent to the Pasadena Playhouse, it was referred to as a “Neo Bistro” — one of those snappy bits of nomenclature that sound so portentous … but are actually more pretentious.
The term seems to reach back to 2010 or thereabouts, when a French culinary publication called Le Fooding began to dub bistros that served something more than roast chicken with fries as “Neo.”
They defined them as having low prices, casual atmosphere and international influences. So, a classic bistro that also served a handful of Spanish dishes became “Neo.” Which, by further definition, would make Bar Chelou “Neo Neo.” Or even “Neo Neo Neo,” because the brief menu is, ahem, all over the map.
That’s exactly as it should be, of course. The word “chelou” is loosely defined as “weird, odd, strange, bizarre” — all good things to be, in a room that over the years has been home to restaurants ranging from the Californian Elements Kitchen to the Mexican Trejo’s Cantina to, most recently, the quasi Basque Saso.
Chelou, opened by former Trois Mec chef Douglas Rankin, feels like the restaurant that’s going to stick around. Or at least, I sure hope it does — this place isn’t so much “weird, odd, strange, bizarre” as it is terrific grownup fun. It’s noisy, it’s lively … and the bar is packed. It’s not so much “Neo” as it is old-school pleasure. It’s a restaurant I couldn’t wait to share.
The hours of operation are finite — just 6-9 p.m. Tuesday through Saturday — with reservations tricky but not impossible. This is not a reservation nightmare like Pijja Palace in Silver Lake. And anyway, the bar and adjacent tables are for walk-ins. Even nearby parking isn’t that tough. Small gestures create much joy.
Part of that joy is the old school pre-Neo bistro pleasure of sitting at a busy bar, watching the mixers bang out an assortment of drinks that smack of the days before cocktails were made with chocolates and Gummi Bears.
The aperitif list begins with a Vermouth + Tonic (with the tonic flavored ever so subtly with cucumber), and it meanders through a Negroni of Campari and sweet vermouth, a Jimmie Roosevelt of cognac and green chartreuse, and a Death in the Afternoon of absinthe and champagne.
The New Orleans Sazerac is made with rye, cognac and Peychaud’s bitters — words little seen since F. Scott gave up the ghost. This is a bar where elbows are welcome to bend. Oh … and the wine list is seriously French. Italy and the U.S. make cameo appearances, but nothing more than that.
The menu in the bar is limited to “Snacks” — aka, the top of the regular menu. Which is more than sufficient, if you’re there for a casual evening of sipping and supping and considering the state of the world in between marinated olives and crunchy morcilla “cigars.”
There’s much substance to be found in the plate of crazy tiny bay scallops, in a sauce of green garlic and serrano peppers, with (of all things) potato chips. There’s almost a comedic interplay between the sophistication of the scallops, and the kiddy-time goofiness of the chips. The dish made me feel like a grownup and a teenager at the same time. So strange.
There’s a fondness for toast here, in the grilled cheese-ish burrata toast with Iberico ham slices and pickled peppers; and the clam toasts with leeks and pickled escabeche. The crispy potatoes crunch with every bite. And the tossed sprouting cauliflower is flavored with a Szechuan pepper. Which brings us to the multi-national, border-breaking essence of the Neo Bistro.
There are carrots in South Pacific coconut dressing. Cheeses are served with deeply American apple butter. The Iberico pork chop is flavored with a fennel pollen furikake seasoning powder that exudes Japan. There’s Japanese curry and bok choy with the boudin blanc sausage. The pil-pil seasoning on the rainbow trout is Basque.
For dessert, there’s a chocolate tart with hazelnut ice cream, a cheesecake brulée … and rice pudding. Rice pudding!
The dishes are prepared in a kitchen that appears to be framed by a proscenium arch. Get there early enough, and I expect the lights to go down and a curtain to rise. The Pasadena Playhouse is next door, but Bar Chelou is the tastiest show in town.
Merrill Shindler is a Los Angeles-based freelance dining critic. Email mreats@aol.com.