Dinner at Norah: A Review

Parklet and exterior of Norah, West Hollywood. Photo: Naoki Nitta

April 1, 2021

For a warm Saturday evening in early spring, Santa Monica Boulevard seemed dismally quiet. Sure, we were several blocks east of San Vicente, West Hollywood’s epicenter, but it was looking like the pandemic may have taken a toll on one too many establishments in the neighborhood.

But as my partner and I approached Norah, a generous canopy of trees abruptly interrupted the urban grit, softly lighting and framing the stretch of sidewalk that fronted the restaurant. It was like walking onto a stage set, a small urban oasis created by large potted lemon trees, pyramid lamp heaters, and white market umbrellas, all tucked away behind the substantial height of the parklet wall. As we were shown to one of the well-sheltered tables, the outdoor space felt like an intentional extension of the restaurant’s verdant, rear patio, in clear view beyond the empty dining room.

Norah, which bills itself as an “eclectic American restaurant,” keeps the menu varied but curated enough to retain a general focus on Mediterranean-inspired, fresh California cuisine. The QR-code generated dinner menu—a white typewriter font on black background—is minimal; there are tight groupings of a few items in each of the four categories: small plates, salads and vegetables, wood-fired pizza, and meat and fish. The wine, sake, and cocktail list far overshadows the food offerings, but hey, that’s WeHo for you.

The service was prompt and sincere but not over-friendly, which, for me, is always a bonus. We pondered the menu over drinks—the Norah Paloma, a mezcal and citrus liqueur cocktail, for him and for me, a glass of Plaisance-Penavayre, a crisp wine tinged with a light shade of rosé. Even as the evening started to cool around us, a reminder that it was still March, both drinks were cheery with spring optimism.

And when it came time to order, my gluten-intolerant, fish-disliking partner needed all the optimism he could muster. His, uh, “selectiveness” wiped out all five of the small plate selections—bread dishes, raw fish and oysters—along with the pizzas. Most disappointingly, we were told that the potato gnocchi with shaved black truffles contained wheat flour; at $45, it seemed a bit too indulgent for me to order as a starter for one.

Frankly, we were surprised by the limited gluten-free selection, given that we were in the land of food-and carb-restriction consciousness. (There is a vegan menu though, which essentially filters out all verboten items down to a selection of six dishes.) But the choices, while narrow, remained enticing enough. We started by splitting an arugula and radicchio salad; the only elaboration on the menu were the other four ingredients: almonds, fried capers, aged balsamic, parmesan.

But Norah’s minimalism, as it turns out, is its strong suit. The voluminous serving, more than plenty for two, featured fresh, peppery leaves lightly but evenly coated with the balsamic vinaigrette. The fried capers gave just the right bursts of zing, the chopped almonds added a vociferous crunch, and the shards of parmesan were nicely crystalized, tasting not too unlike a lightly aged version from Parma. But the real star was the arugula, which, unadorned, would have been flavorful enough on its own.

There was a noticeable pause between courses, definitely enough time to order another round of drinks and take in our surroundings. The vaguely lounge-clubby music was at a pleasant enough volume, helping to mask out the sound of cars passing by. “But it would be too much if we were inside,” my partner remarked. I had to agree—palatable noise levels are one of the things I’ve come to love about outdoor dining during the pandemic, fancy parklets aside.

Our main dishes were the strangely titled “American wagyu zabuton” (which, to my Japanese ears come off as “American Japanese beef seat cushions”) and the “uni butter poached shrimp.” Despite the Japanese-y sounding names, these were truly Californian concoctions: fresh ingredients, a bold mix of flavors, and ample portions.

My shrimp were plump, bathed in a rich broth with an oversized baton of grilled bread balanced over the bowl. The uni butter was sheer melted goodness, upping the soup’s umami to new heights, while dices of smoked tomato backed it up with depth and a hint of tartness. The shrimp were poached just enough to keep from getting too chewy, and the chopped scallions and cilantro livened up the contrast in both flavor and color. But the dish was really about savoring the broth with the pillowy soft bread. I wondered how much more satisfying it would’ve tasted had it been served piping hot.

My partner had ordered his steak cooked medium, but fortunately it arrived medium-rare. Beautifully seared on the outside and deeper-than-pink but not bleeding inside, the medallions were tender and perfectly done, which is all one can ask from an excellent cut of beef. The portion was definitely generous (although at $60, any less would have seemed meager).

The wagyu was almost upstaged though, by the side of smashed fingerling potatoes. Buttery soft with a delicately crisp of pan-fried skin, they were perked up with a sprinkling of green onions. We both agreed that a small plate of that with shaved truffles would have been a worthy replacement for the gnocchi.

The presentation of the dishes matched the straight-forward, unfussy nature of the cuisine. A single votive cast a warm flicker on the otherwise minimal, cloth-less table. Our empty salad plates and unused straws, however, managed to keep us company throughout the evening.

By the time our server came over to recite the desserts, we were quite content and full, which may explain why neither of us can clearly recall either option. I believe it was a yuzu tart and a chocolate cake, but both had surprisingly long descriptions—maybe their pastry chef is less of a minimalist—but they sounded amazing.

As we got up to leave, we saw that the parklet and back patio had filled up nicely—vibrant but not overpacked. The glittering ambiance quickly faded as we crossed the street, but even from afar, Norah’s warm glimmer continued to light up that little slice of Santa Monica Boulevard.

Foreground: Uni butter poached shrimp; background: American wagyu zabuton. Photo: Naoki Nitta

Date: March 27, 2021

Note: 18% service charge automatically included on bill