Oh, LAMill. You are THE hipster hangout these days. In one corner, we've got the visiting West Side couple with their matching kids: Mom's dressed in black leggings with an American Apparel off-the-shoulder fuchsia sweat dress with a Gucci belt and a $2000 designer handbag. Dad's sporting jeans that can only be found at Fred Segal and a checkered thrift store shirt over an Ed Hardy tee. And the kids? Considering they'd have grown out of their designer duds by the time you read this blog entry, does it even matter? In the other corner, we've got the super skinny alt-rock couple, looking distant and full of ennui, because smiling is sooooo 2007.
These are the kinds of patron that LAMill, with its perfect Silverlake location, fancy-schmancy coffee service and antique-chic interior, craves. Who else is going to spend $15 for coffee? And yes, the coffee is good, though they could use a bit of help on the execution. On my first visit, I got the second-fanciest coffee, and it was good (ok, great), but it was served in a glass pot. Half-way through my first cup, the rest of the coffee in the pot had gone room temperature. For $12, I expect the coffee to remain hot through the duration of my meal. They must find a better way to execute this pricey coffee.
In any case, we decided to try LAMill again, partly to give it a second chance and mainly because my bro-in-law wanted to check it out. As it was the first time, the food was quite good; my first meal there was a luscious, soft-scrambled egg and crab dish with two pieces of bone-dry brioche toast. The eggs were fabulous, but the toast could use some work. My second visit order was the classic French ham baguette sandwich with butter, served with a side of mustards and cippolini onions and homemade potato chips. The bread was that delightful combination of crispy/chewy, the butter was rich and fatty (read: real French butter) and overall the sandwich was an example of simple food done right but priced for people who don't understand simple food. This time I skipped the coffee and opted for their housemade lemonade, which was not a good choice. The drink was so sour my cheeks ached with every sip. I gave up after finishing half.
My bro-in-law ordered the baked eggs with crab (forgot to take pic). He said it was fine, but nothing special. Our consensus was that the scrambled egg dishes are much better than the baked variety. My sister got the panini with tomato and mozzarella. It was rather bland, and the mozzarella, cut in thick slabs, overwhelmed the rest of the ingredients. The best part of the sandwich was the potato chips that come on the side - light, crispy and absolutely addictive.
Throughout our meal, we were distracted by the lack of service (we had to flag our waitress down every time we needed something; she was completely unaware of our existence unless we practically jumped up and down on the table), and the uber hipsters that decorate the place. The trio at the table next to us were having a riveting discussion about Bob Dylan's hair and role it plays in the fringe culture of folk-alt music. It's hard to feel comfortable eating amidst all that hipster malarkey.
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