The Ivy is where the hoi go to meet the polloi. And what a scene it is – the quintessential L.A. experience. It’s not just movie, TV and recording starts, producers, directors and agents. It’s where people of means hang out. Any day of the week – every day of the week – the hair is well coiffed, the makeup well made up, the dresses – yes actual dresses – fitted and finished. And yes, you will see celebrities.
With that said, it might be a tendency to shrug The Ivy off as just a shallow Hollywood spot, where “they” go to see and be seen. But think of it this way: these are people who can eat anywhere they want to eat and they elect to eat here. That is not something they would do if the food was not very, very good.
There is an Ivy at the Beach, also. But the real action is at The Ivy on Robertson. This is one of the very few places where I opt for eating outside instead of inside, at least for lunch. The buzz on the patio, the files of people threading their way to the reception desk, the waiters squeezing between tables and chairs crowded together, the well-dressed standing on the sidewalk waiting for their reservation times, the expensive cars pulling up to the valet station – it’s electric. If you prefer something more sedate, ask for a table inside.
As for the menu, it’s an eclectic and ever-changing offering of delights – belinis with fresh white peaches and Maryland soft shell crab in season, a variety of salads throughout the year, inventive soups, Mexican dishes and delectable desserts.
The Ivy is a perfect place to take out-of-town visitors, or spend an hour or two when you need to be reacquainted with the reasons for living in L.A.
