Canto VI

It was just by chance that Foodie Friend #3 and I wound up at Canto VI. We had planned a visit to a wine bar in our neighborhood, but when a beloved friend, (who shall remain nameless although you all know Her Highness), broke her ankle, we diverted to one in Chatsworth so we could stop in to see how the patient was doing before imbibing.

Canto VI is an odd duck. It’s in Chatsworth and has a dress code. Enough said.

The bouncer-like greeter outside quizzes your reservation status and whether or not this is your “first time” before ushering you through a heavy curtain and into a dimly-lit faux supper club; a horse-shoe bar center-stage, billowing parachute material swagged across the ceiling and shelves of wine bottles glowing red from beneath.

He suggests sitting at the bar for a better view of the flamenco musicians, but in fact, there is no real sightline into the open closet housing the two guitarists from anywhere in the room. We opt for a table and are bemused to be told we will have to order our food and drinks at the bar.

 Mercifully, the weirdness ends there. A bounty of delightful tapas that includes a smoky roasted eggplant puree with grilled flatbread, a lively arugula and herb salad and the best damn French fries in memory anchor us through generous tastings of various reds and whites, the names of which I would have to ferret through my trash for. No mind, because the wine dudes behind the bar, (one of whom owns the place), could not have been more attentive and spot on with recommendations, and the pours were hefty.

 Brian, the owner, spent decades at fancy-pants Melisse in Santa Monica and is effusive in his joy over sharing his oenologistic expertise in his very own wine bar. His enthusiasm, knowledge and earnest pleasure in his establishment far outweigh the superficial disconnects of service and setting. Next time, we’ll sit at the bar and partake of his picks more extensively while the musicians labor on out of sight.