624 South La Brea.
It rolls so poetically off the tongue. 624 South... well, no it doesn’t.
But Campanile was born here. La Brea Bakery was born here. You feasted on plenty of lamb and bread here.
And now. Oh, man. And now...
Prepare to feel slightly shorter at Republique, a cavernous, enchanting hamlet of French dining and freshly baked breads, soft-opening Thursday on La Brea.
Long before Campanile and La Brea Bakery, this was Charlie Chaplin’s old office. But time has a funny way of turning things into breathtaking, cathedral-arched, gothic-sconced French bistros and bakeries under former Bastide and Patina chefs named Walter Manzke. Not City Lights funny. But still.
So enter. Raise mezcal-gin-and-citrus-jam cocktails over wood-fired steaks and tarte flambée at long wooden Beowulf-style communal tables in the middle of a vast, airy chamber filled with appreciative strangers.
Or if you’re really going big—sold a screenplay about selling a screenplay, launched a company, bought new pants—reserve a table in the white-bricked rear dining room. When it’s time to toast, there’s champagne and about 1,000 wine options. That should do.
And come December, the front bar will become your casual nook for coffee, fresh breads and pastries from co-owner Margarita Manzke—and after sundown, it’ll be overstuffed with riesling, oysters and charcuterie.
Pretty comprehensive bar.
It rolls so poetically off the tongue. 624 South... well, no it doesn’t.
But Campanile was born here. La Brea Bakery was born here. You feasted on plenty of lamb and bread here.
And now. Oh, man. And now...
Prepare to feel slightly shorter at Republique, a cavernous, enchanting hamlet of French dining and freshly baked breads, soft-opening Thursday on La Brea.
Long before Campanile and La Brea Bakery, this was Charlie Chaplin’s old office. But time has a funny way of turning things into breathtaking, cathedral-arched, gothic-sconced French bistros and bakeries under former Bastide and Patina chefs named Walter Manzke. Not City Lights funny. But still.
So enter. Raise mezcal-gin-and-citrus-jam cocktails over wood-fired steaks and tarte flambée at long wooden Beowulf-style communal tables in the middle of a vast, airy chamber filled with appreciative strangers.
Or if you’re really going big—sold a screenplay about selling a screenplay, launched a company, bought new pants—reserve a table in the white-bricked rear dining room. When it’s time to toast, there’s champagne and about 1,000 wine options. That should do.
And come December, the front bar will become your casual nook for coffee, fresh breads and pastries from co-owner Margarita Manzke—and after sundown, it’ll be overstuffed with riesling, oysters and charcuterie.
Pretty comprehensive bar.
