No-Fussin’ Tuscan

La Maschera breaks the chain of Pasadena’s chain-ready fusion contusion.
by Alex Brown

In my six years as an Angeleno, I have seldom ventured into Pasadena with a strong will. I really don’t like it there. The bums dress better than I do, and the police are infinitely more brash (and present) than many of their tough neighborhood counterparts. I only frequent that stretch of far-too-clean pavement stretching from Orange Grove to Hooters if I’m under the influence of hallucinogens (don’t ask) or suffering from a lazy stomach. Old Town is the last place that I want to go to eat, but every few months I find myself shamefully taking a parking ticket at the Delacey Parking Structure and sulking my way to a willing door. After validation, just like after psychedelics, I leave the land of diagonal crosswalks with a sense of confusion, way less money than I came with, and acid reflux.

Every recent culinary trend is represented tenfold on this pristine strip. Steakhouses, sushi bars, tapas bars, sushi bars inside tapas bars, something called Thaitalian: This is the stomping ground for the next cookie cutter. Thankfully, the warmly lit comfort zone I’ve just waltzed into has a discernable lack of corporate ambition.

La Maschera offers three theaters for feasting that all betray the notion you’re three blocks away from Moose McGillycuddies and 13 miles from the Westside. The dining room offers you a scant view of the kitchen and a decibel break from the UCLA jazz freak-out in the wine bar/lounge. Behind said booze counter resides not a bartender but a sommelier, in front of whom sits (gasp!) an arsenal of extra virgin olive oils, a selection of olives, and three sizable wheels of cheese. They had to pull me back to my seat on the patio (theater #3) where I wouldn’t be tempted to chug cold pressed gold from Nice, wiping my slick’d maw with slice after slice of port-infused cheddar.

My date and I sat perusing the wine list, which we admittedly knew little about, on a virtually abandoned patio. The outside tables are a bit hidden at this place—always nice in the ‘ol Dena, where you never seem to be alone unless you’re pissing or parking. We decided on our initial plate choices and pretended to know something about these particular wines, being “very interested” in what the Italian vines had to offer. Just as my declarations of faux know-how were ending, and our severely chipper waitress whisked our ticket to the kitchen, the sommelier arrived.

I’ve never interacted with a sommelier. I will not pretend to know how well this very young, handsome dude named Anders matches up against what I assume to be a race of stodgy, giant-nosed French imports whose concept of meaningful work is scoffing at California cork-dorks and mumbling “non terroir” under their breaths. Nor will I assume that every table will get a personal wine tour from this guy, a fortunate aspect of my revealed identity via La Maschera’s PR rep. This guy had not an iota of pretension and picked awesome wines. Four glasses matched four plates fantastically, and at $15 and up for a flight of four you can’t really go wrong.

La Maschera’s dinner menu offers both typical, new-Italian faves as well as plates that clearly bear the mark of Chef Adnen Marouani’s Tunisian interpretations of restaurant standards. You’ll find more than enough to satisfy your cured-meat habit—the one seemingly shared by the rest of L.A.—with the Antipasto Misto or Beef Carpacio with mustard caper sauce. We settled on Rottoli di Pettine ($13), seared scallops wrapped in zucchini—a ubiquitous enough first course, and the perfect way to gauge any kitchen. Unfortunately for most L.A. line cooks, it’s easy to over sear anything. Fortunately for us, Marouani knows no such weakness. The scallops are perfectly seared, their centers tender, almost quivering. They arrived sitting in a warm thyme wine broth, were wrapped in super thin slices of zucchini—a welcome vacation from bacon overkill—and were topped with a simple mango lime salsa. Anders paired the dish with St. Clement Chardonnay from Napa Valley. Not oaky or cat-pissy at all, this whitey smacks of sweet fruits and the Pacific. Awesome.

For the salad course we went with a Caesar ($9), made sans huevos. A stack of trimmed romaine arrived, gently tossed with what appeared to be only oil, pepper and cheese. Two anchovies lay atop our little flavor pyramid. If you don’t like anchovy you might be a little overwhelmed, but in my mind, a salad can do no better than this. It is utterly simple and totally perfect. No bullshit creamy dressing, no grilled chicken on top—just the freshness of the lettuce, the strength of the anchovies and real Parmesan. The salad was paired with some kinda French Bordeaux, and it was some kinda wonderful matched with the upfront flavors of the salad.

Opting for nightly specials over regular menu items like fancy-pants pizza and a myriad of pastas might not have been the best idea. Both the Ahi tuna special ($14) and the famed Risotto Di Giorno (market price) ranged from tepid to awkward. Seared Ahi tuna was, sadly, overcooked and the composition of the plate seemed a bit out of step with the rest of the menu. Pineapple coconut beurre blanc sauce just tasted like a piña colada without the booze, and it was a bit too sweet for the tuna. The rosemary-caked roasted potatoes next to the fish cocktail furrowed our collective brow. The risotto, served with a light tomato sauce and varied seafood, was perfectly cooked but a little bland after the intensity of the earlier courses.

Just like most Old Town establishments, there really isn’t much of a challenge for the diner at La Maschera. Just being a lasting tenant in this hood is, sadly, challenging enough. Instead of fighting centrally-conceived, nationally-disseminated plates from the Cheesecake Factory with flavored foams or the latest fusion concept (dude, OK…Gaucho Sushi…no?), Chef Marouani opts for the simple and sensible. With a few exceptions, he’s totally dead-on. The only thing that can outshine the Tuscan-Tunisian cuisine is, auspiciously, the rest of the restaurant. LAA

Location: 82 N. Fair Oaks Ave, 2 blocks North of Colorado.
Phone: (626) 304-0004.
Service: Prompt, hyper friendly.
Parking: Structures—Just South of the restaurant.
Price: Dinner $13-$20.
Recommended Dishes: Seared Scallops Wrapped in Zucchini, Fancy Pizza, and Booze.
Overall: 3.5 out of 5