After reading some positive reviews, and getting a personal
recommendation from a friend, we recently decided to try out an Italian
eatery, in the thriving Arts District of Downtown L.A., called The Factory Kitchen. Now, I thought this was a
strange name for an Italian trattoria, but apparently it takes its name from
the street it is located on, Factory Pl. The restaurant occupies a tightly packed space, in what was probably on
old loading dock, in a former factory building whose upper floors have been
converted into residential lofts. Like many of the newer restaurants we’ve been to lately, especially
in Downtown L.A., the interior design is “industrial-chic”, with concrete
floors, large concrete pillars with peeling paint, exposed pipes, and a mixture of tile, wood, and metal. It is basically one large room, and with all the concrete, is definitely loud.
For my starter, I tried a salad called cremosella. The salad contained an abundance of mozzarella cheese, chopped green beans, pea shoots, and was seasoned with ligurian oil and black pepper. The salad was simple and elegant. It was not drowning in dressing as a lot of restaurants tend to do. However, the biggest problem I had with it was that there was way too much cheese! I know, I never thought I'd find myself complaining about “too much cheese,” but the portions of cheese that came with the salad were huge. The salad could have come with only one or two of the pieces of cheese, and it still would have been a monsterous portion of cheese for a "starter" salad.
For his starter, my husband ordered the Pancotto (literally,
“cooked bread”), which was a semolina bread crostini topped with a duck egg, red potato velluta, sautéed greens, and speck. The bread was nice and crusty, and eaten with the perfectly runny egg and the salty speck, made for a really great bite. This dish was also quite large to be considered a "starter."
Our next course was the "pasta course" and we split the chef's signature pasta dish, which has been named on may L.A. foodie lists as one of
the “best dishes of the year." This is a dish of fresh, house-made pasta called mandilli de seta (name translates into “silk handkerchiefs”). The thick pasta noodles are then coated in an almond basil pesto. This dish was definitely the highlight of our meal. The pesto was creamy and
nutty and coated the silky layers of pasta perfectly.
For his main dish, my husband chose a dish called Mamiche. The dish was a generous helping of fresh, tubular pasta with various types of seafood including, octopus, langoustine, and spicy mussels. The dish was topped with a spicy, tomato broth. We both felt that the pasta in this dish was too al dente, because it was very chewy. Again, we felt that the proportions were a bit off as there was a ton of pasta, and a limited amount of seafood and broth.
For my main dish, I tried the Anatra, which was a seared duck
breast and leg confit, topped with a barbera sauce and some ranier cherries. The duck breast was well-cooked with nice, crispy skin, but I actually preferred the leg confit more as the meat was so tender and juicy that it just fell off the bone. The wine sauce and cherries paired nicely with the duck.
Finally, for dessert we couldn't pass up the Bigne di cioccolato, which were basically profiteroles, which are cream puffs filled with custard, and drizzled with chocolate and caramel sauces. The puffs were light and airy and the filling was good.
Overall, I felt that our meal at The Factory Kitchen certainly had its highs and lows. The signature pasta dish, mandilli de seta, is a must try. In fact, a table of guests who were seated nearby saw us examining our menus and advised us that we simply had to order it. We were not disappointed.
While we enjoyed our meal well enough, if I had the choice, I would probably choose to dine at another Italian restaurant in the same general vicinity, Bestia, which is in a similar price range. However, if you are having a difficult time securing a reservation at the always packed Bestia, The Factory Kitchen is certainly a satisfying runner-up.