Clay's La Jolla
- Clay's La Jolla
- 7955 La Jolla Shores Dr
- La Jolla, California 92037
- 858.551.3620
- www.clayslajolla.com
FEATURED SPOT
Two On Top
Two intrepid diners venture into La Jolla to see if food really does taste better on the eleventh floor.
By Emily Vizzo
Monday afternoons aren’t so bad when you find yourself gazing out at the great bowl of the deep blue sea with a chilled martini glass in hand. And like God or Santa Claus, it’s amusing to observe the world in one fell swoop and hard not to feel a bit snobby as you look down at all the little people scurrying around like rabbits.
From my enviable, deep-seated eleventh-story perch at Clay’s La Jolla, atop the Hotel La Jolla, I could keep an eye on both the sweltering commuters in the late-afternoon traffic aiming for the 5 North, and the kayakers whisking around La Jolla Shores. The city’s truly lush greenery, heavily punctuated with mature palms, made an impressive carpet far below.
Clay’s La Jolla is the newest restaurant to claim Hotel La Jolla’s top floor. Executive Chef Clay Bordan took over its predecessor, Elario’s, and recharged the place with a new menu and look. We came to scope out the happy hour, which features $4 wells, $3 drafts, $5 house wines by the glass, and half-off appetizers that’ll cost you between $3 and $9 each.
The restaurant is open and spare, blending bare wood floors, short-pile carpeting and walls painted in grape, burgundy and khaki. A pint-sized elevator swoops you up from the hotel lobby and deposits you in the restaurant’s entrance foyer, formally situated with an upholstered loveseat and windows into the kitchen. During happy hour, guests choose their own seats: belly ups, generous-sized dining tables, or low, king-sized tables surrounded by comfortable sprawl-worthy couches. Fresh, yellow iris arrangements grace each table.
The bar itself curves away from the foyer, extending into the lounge area in a graceful, welcoming arc lined with cushion-backed bar stools and framed with dropdown lamps. Pull-screens at the massive windows mute the sun’s glare. Potted lucky bamboo plants, a black baby grand, gold-framed mirrors and purple pull-drapes complete the picture.
The sole bartender, doing double-duty as our server, was prompt and attentive. Given the weird, ill-fitting uniforms that many hoteliers seem to enjoy inflicting on their employees, we appreciated that she seemed to be wearing her own clothing: black pants, cheerful pink tank top, and dangling abalone earrings.
We chose our drinks from the specialty martini list. My longtime buddy Monique picked the Ginger Peachtini, elegantly presented with a tiny floating star anise. I went for the La Rosa Margarita, classically presented with a thin salt-crusted rim and lime wedge. Our admiration dimmed a few watts after preliminary sips. Subtle ginger and peach flavors were weighted with a heavy cranberry juice anchor, and sweet and sour masked the complexity of the La Rosa Pink Bordeaux tequila base of my margarita. That said, both choices induced a merry buzz right off the bat—and well they should, at $12 a pop. Bravo, bartender.
Our fellow diners were pretty quiet, making for a relaxing but pretty tame happy hour scene. No college kids or prowling singles here. We halfheartedly eavesdropped on the tedious conversation at the table next door, trying to get a feel for the clientele, but got bored before we learned anything much. This is definitely a place to enjoy the company you’re with, not the company you might be looking for.
Our first two appetizers arrived before the silverware, but our food runner quickly grabbed two linen rollups before we had time to ask. After some deliberation, we had decided on the Ahi Tuna Tower and the Baked Goat Cheese. The saku tuna came tossed in a Thai chili oil and stacked in a neat column above a smattering of micro radish sprouts, a juicy stripe of diced mango, paper-thin Japanese cucumber, blood orange mustard and a purple Thai rice cake. The effect was summery and fresh. The goat cheese came floating in a white crock of oven-warmed dried tomato sauce and calamata olive pesto, surrounded with beautifully charred bread. Not what we expected, but appealing anyway.
The tuna seemed a little soft in texture, and although Mo caught some sweetness, I couldn’t detect the chili oil. We both liked the blood orange mustard and the wonderful grainy, nutty taste of the rice cake. We also liked the melty goat cheese, toasted bread and red sauce combo. It brought to mind the classic grilled cheese and tomato soup rainy day fallback we all know and love. In fact, the dish would be terrific to share while waiting out the rain with a glass of red wine.
Round two: Sake Seared Sea Scallops and Macaroni and Cheese with truffle oil. The Mano de Leon scallops came as a pair, nestled on sautéed baby arugula and parsnip potato cakes dressed with a mild Turkish apricot crème fraiche and pomegranate ginger reduction. All delicious, but the best bite was the scallop itself: firm, sweet and buttery. The macaroni and cheese came in a small, unassuming bowl pooled with truffle oil. Simple, tasty and not too cheesy.
Struck by the extensive sake menu, we decided to finish off the meal with a glass of cold shochu. The $9 Okinawa-region blend arrived in a little cracked-glass vial resembling a perfume bottle. Cold, grassy and clean, it left us feeling virtuous as we climbed aboard the elevator for the 11-floor plunge that would transport us back to being normal, ground-dwelling, hustley-bustley bunnies.
Check out Clay’s at 7955 La Jolla Shores Drive, or at www.clayslajolla.com. An extended happy hour menu on Thursdays and Fridays includes $3 hand rolls, $5 large Kirins and sake specials.