I dropped in at the Los Feliz branch of Cobras & Matadors Saturday evening around 6:30 with a friend. We had made no reservation; after all, it was early, the restaurant was big enough, and it was relatively early for L.A. dining. We both looked rather, um, "deconstructed" for eating out on a Saturday night. She was in the process of moving, so neither of us was in our finery. When I asked the host if he could fit in two, he eyeballed us and began to equivocate, saying the restaurant was fully booked. Never mind that the room was less than hall-full. He began to move about, looking to the big windows, and finally he said he could possibly fit us in if we didn't mind sitting outside. That was fine with us, so we took at side outside and had a nice meal.
Eventually, over the course of a ninety minutes or so, the restaurant did fill up. (Whether they all had reservations or not, I don't know. I'll give him the benefit of the doubt, though.) But, as we ate, my friend looked inside and observed, "All those people dress the same." And it was sort of true: Everyone inside was in their party dresses or halter tops, their untucked-but-ironed button-down shirts and best expensive jeans. The hair was appropriately straightened or gelled for the occasion. Then I took a look at our fellow diners on the pavement. Polo shirts. Flip-flops. Pony-tails. There was not a starched collar or speck of foundation to be seen. Inside, everyone was on a date. Outside, we were just the casual, no-nonsense people who happened to show up wanting some food and wine, showing up without the same level of attire or mating-ready posture as the customers indoors. As such, it seems we had been stuck in Cobras & Matadors' No-Date Ghetto.
The candles on our tables didn't get lit; after all, candles are for amor, right? And, by dessert time, the waiter was clearly in a hurry to get our check cleared. (After all, the two guys in camo shorts and white t-shirts need somewhere to eat, and, dressed like that, it's certainly not going to be inside.) I've been at restaurants where there is clearly a date scene, but I've never quite witnessed something to that extent. And it's not insulting as much as amusing. (The past tendency to ignore customers not also ordering wine at the Beverly Boulevard Cobras & Matadors was far more egregious.)
So be warned: Cobras & Matadors in Los Feliz is not a place for casual platonic dining on a Saturday night.
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