Jack’s La Jolla

Jack’s has, of late, become the hottest place for singles in La Jolla on Thursday nights. And I made the mistake of venturing in unknowingly on one of those Thursday nights.

I have been to Jack’s before, and I enjoy the mixed crowd that can’t be easily characterized. The range of ages, styles, and even ethnicity is unexpected in La Jolla, but refreshing.

I used to go to Jack’s fairly regularly, and I have always enjoyed their food and drinks. They have an extensive menu, for a bar, and during dining hours they have three separate restaurants: The top floor "beach bar" serves steak and sushi, the mid level fine fining foom serves, well, fine dining, and the lower level bar serves California fusion. The presentation is artistic, the ingredients fresh, and the food is interesting in the way you would expect it to be. (Yes, that’s an ironic comment. Think organic salad greens with candied walnuts, blue cheese, and sliced pear. It’s a trendy dish that thinks it’s being original, but good none the less.)

However, since my days as a regular, Jack’s has changed. The crowds are upon the three leveled location, and it’s really too bad. Jack’s isn’t handling the stress very well. For example, during dining hours they have live music, a classy touch. Except here is the exchange that happened while we waited for our table:

One of the musicians: Excuse, why are you standing here? Are you waiting for a table?
One of us: Yes. We are.
One of the musicians: Oh, well, where’s the host?
One of us: I’m not sure. Around somewhere.
One of the musicians: Well, could you scoot back?

Now, even though the decor is attractive, with glass stairs, plush upholstery, just dim enough hanging lights, and expensive flooring, there isn’t a waiting area on the top level. So there was nowhere to “scoot” too. We backed up about an inch and a half, and the musician just had to live with it. This was all particularly striking because the musicians had a tip jar out.

After we were seated, which took less time than anticipated, about ten minutes, the fifth member of our party arrived. And the bouncers wouldn’t let him in. Apparently, in the ten minutes we had been waiting the entrance we used had been transformed into the VIP entrance, and our fifth diner was to wait in the ever growing line. I went down to fetch him, but the bouncers were busy letting in their friends (a very large group), a girl wearing a shirt that read “F*** ME IT’S MY BIRTHDAY,” and all of her friends. They finally said they would “take care of him,” but continued to check IDs of other people standing in line. Said friend was finally bored of waiting and annoyed at the power tripping bouncers and decided not to stay.



I returned to the table, amid the elegantly draped dining room. We cleared away the fifth plate. The food came: butternut squash, carmelized onions, apple bisque; salmon nigiri, a tropical sushi with beautiful presentation, and it was all quite good. That was the one thing that hadn’t changed. But by that point, it wasn’t really all that enjoyable.