Eating out has always been my favorite way to spend quality time with friends. Whether it was a casual to-go meal or a Michelin-starred restaurant, food became the occasion for our best conversations or late-night adventures. Food isn’t just about the meal — it’s about the ritualistic experience of slowing down and sharing something together.

When I moved across the country for college, that habit stayed with me. Los Angeles is massive, intimidating and, initially, was completely unfamiliar. Food quickly became the easiest way to make it feel more familiar, with restaurants serving as my compass. 

Restaurants gave me a way to orient myself in L.A. when street names and highway numbers blurred together: I couldn’t always remember the roads, but I never forgot whether something was near Sapp Coffee Shop. Each restaurant stitched a piece of the city into a map I could actually follow.

As I head into my senior year, it only feels right to keep navigating this city the same way I always have — through food. To start the year, I wanted a meal that set the tone for what was to come. That brought me to Venice’s Abbot Kinney Boulevard — a perfect blend of bohemian Venice and polished L.A. trendiness — where Alisa: Wine & Friends offered the kind of celebratory reunification dining that makes a semester feel like it’s beginning on the right note.

Alisa doesn’t announce itself with neon signs or flashing lights. Instead, it blends into Abbot Kinney’s quieter stretch, marked only by soft gray-and-white striped awnings and potted olive trees decorating its entrance. 

The minimalist facade is easy to miss if you’re not looking closely, making it feel like the kind of restaurant you stumble upon rather than seek out. This feeling is almost residential, like walking up to a friend’s home — and that intimacy sets the tone far before you even step inside.

Step inside, and that sense of warmth only deepens. The room is sun-washed and softly lit, with blond wood tables, whitewashed walls and marble accents that bounce light into the space. The details are polished yet not ostentatious: busts line the shelves, woven chairs are lined with crisp linens and muted chatter fills the room. Together, these touches blend into something quintessentially Mediterranean.

Even before dishes were ordered, Alisa set itself apart with its menu. Rather than laminated pages or QR codes, the menus come freshly printed on thick paper, each marked with the date on top — ours read “August 2025.” It’s just a small touch but a telling one: clean menus feel intentional, both curated and cared for.

To start, we ordered the flatbread and eggplant dip, a universal pairing, unfortunately, sold separately. The dip was rich and perfectly whipped, layered atop a bed of cilantro. The flatbread, though warm and well-seasoned, felt plain for its steep $8 price point, in addition to $11 dip, more of a vehicle than a dish worth remembering on its own.

For the main course, we decided to order the octopus for $38 and the lamb chops for $41, both served on warm white china plates. The octopus was plated beautifully atop a swirl of butternut squash purée and drizzled with verdant herb aioli; it was an utter showstopper. 

The lamb chops shifted the evening. Arriving perfectly seared under a rosemary-scented jus, they were worth the splurge alone, served in fours and made for sharing with friends. The tender meat was plated with light tzatziki, each bite a stunning balance between richness and comfort. The cool temperature and the flavorful dill paired especially well with the hefty lamb chops.

Still, the meal was more than the sum of its dishes. Service moved at an unhurried pace, never rushing plates but never letting the gaps between appetizer and main course stretch too long. Servers weaved between tables, topping off glasses, clearing plates quietly and letting conversations take center stage. It was the kind of pacing that invites diners to linger.

As Alisa sits on one of Venice’s most storied boulevards, parking is anything but glamorous. Rather, it’s a minor obstacle that slightly detracts from the otherwise seamless dining experience. Without a lot or valet, you’re more likely to circle the adjacent residential streets a few times, hoping for a space to open.

Nevertheless, Alisa delivered exactly what I look for in a special-occasion meal: food that invites you to linger and an atmosphere that elevates the evening. It wasn’t flawless — few restaurants are — but the lamb chops alone reminded me why some meals are worth going out of the way and paying a bit more for.

What matters is the memory, and on Abbot Kinney with lamb chops worth the splurge and friends around the table, that memory was made. And now, I have an additional restaurant to add to my ever-growing mental map of L.A.

Deon Botshekan is a senior writing about special occasion dining and restaurants worth the splurge in his column, “Silver Spoon,” which runs every other Wednesday.