By the numbers, Bin 8945 is impressive. Sake list: 16. Sampler set of three sakes: $10. French rose wine: 6 (one's not even listed on the menu). Temperature-controlled wine cellar: 1000-plus bottles.
There was no shochu but the menu offered little nibbles, including roasted yam with ginger butter, fried soft shell crab on a bed of sweet corn, beet salad, tuna tartare with fried sesame sticks, empanadas filled with spicy beef and black beans, mussels sauteed with spicy sausage, fried gorgonzola and roasted quail with Haitian grits.
The owner was the former maitre'd at the now closed Aubergine in Newport Beach, Calif., and a friend of one of my dinnermates. He took care of us and gave primers on Haitian grits and French rose wine. He even asked a couple to leave the table our party of seven had relinquished but then decided to keep because we didn't want to climb back into our cars and drive somewhere else for dinner. It was my fault for suggesting to cancel the other dinner reservation. I was difficult, thus earning the T for "trouble" in my middle name. Yet, it was worth the effort, for the food was yummy and the conversation flowed from fashion journalism and crepe carts in Cannes, France, to "Grand Theft Auto: Vice City" and milk maidens carrying Uzis. I liked the pistachio-speckled pate at Lou's better than the homemade mixture done at Bin 8945. The evening's dessert plate represented the four corners of the world; there was a flambe miniature banana, sushi-style roll of sweet sticky rice and chocolate, coconut pound cake and a brownie a la carte. I don't know whether the green apple jelly bean served with the dessert roll was intended to be ironic or pretty. I appreciated the sense of humor. The evening in West Hollywood ended on a sour note when my friend’s car got towed, however. Three of us fashion reporters had to go to some grungy garage and pick up her car. But I wore a black cape, so it felt like a scene from "Batman" or something.
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