Johnny Depp in La Mesa? Well, Maybe His Twin at a Treasure of a New Restaurant

Numerous La Mesa restaurants have established themselves as viable alternatives to downtown San Diego or La Jolla for a high-quality dining experience. The most recent entry is The Vine Cottage Wine Bar and Kitchen, which raises the question: How good does a restaurant have to be to attract San Diegans from far outside La Mesa?

A recent dinner suggests an answer: “La Mesa:  Southern California’s Fine-Dining Mecca.” This place is great. Come and get it, Del Martians!

Opened in late January, The Vine Cottage consolidates the talents of owner Fadi Kalasho (co-owner of Banbu Sushi) and managers John Paul Zamora (a graduate of the California Culinary Academy) and Cervantes Magana. They’ve transformed this Lake Murray Plaza location from its former identity—when it was a Russian deli—into a cozy yet upscale style reminiscent of, as Kalasho puts it, a “Napa Valley French Cottage.” (A has details about the changeover.)

Though I’ve been to neither Napa Valley nor any French cottages, the combination of stony walls, open-beamed wood ceiling, gilt-framed mirrors, and low-but-warmly-glowing lighting produce a thoughtfully sanguine mood that makes you want to don a beret, cup a large goblet of vino, and lead a toast to art, humanity and the quest for higher knowledge. Or at least consume some far-out food.

On a Thursday evening, I arrived with friends to sample the Vine Cottage’s vendibles. Service was outstandingly thorough. We were greeted by two female hosts, who spoke in stereo to offer us the choice of bar, patio or inside seating. We opted for the latter (it was a chilly night, even with the patio’s heat lamps) and sat at a smooth wooden table.

Within seconds a small army brought ice waters containing black straws (why does this impress me so?), along with a crispy Mediterranean bread and bowl of hummus.

Throughout the evening our server Howard, along with other black-shirt and dark-suspender wearing staff, checked on us with the attentiveness of poised dogs carefully watching tennis balls (that’s not an insult—remember, that makes me the tennis ball). Plates were removed, silverware replaced and napkins offered so quickly you could almost feel a light breeze.

The elegant-looking (albeit laminated) menu offers nearly 20 appetizers, so we asked Howard for a recommendation. “Everything is good,” he punted, though I can hardly blame him for not wanting to disqualify dozens of menu items from contention.

Pressed for his favorites, Howard mentioned the Mac & Cheese Croquettes ($8), which sounds like the kind of comfort food that would please even the chronically uncomfortable.

We opted for Howard’s other favorite—the Sauteed Ravioli ($8). It’s filled with butternut squash and ricotta cheese, topped with pine nuts and fennel cream sauce, and finished with truffle oil.

Here’s what one of my friends said after biting into it: “Wow...wow...wow...that is really good.” My other, less talkative friend said merely: “Damn.” (I concurred with both of them.)

Before the appetizer, we had been visited by Magana, the restaurant’s co-manager and ubiquitous wine director. Funny thing about Magana: He looks and dresses remarkably similar to a certain Hollywood star known for playing a drunken pirate, a shear-handed hedge-trimmer, and the hunter of a headless horseman.

That’s right: If you squint or become slightly inebriated, you just might believe you’re being offered wine from Johnny Depp (in particular the bookish, scarf-wearing Depp from the 2004 film Secret Window). Undoubtedly this likeness will not hurt sales among female patrons and/or pirates.

Depp, or uhm Magana, stopped by our table to recommend a bottle of vino that would accompany our food.

“What do you like in wine?” he began, which isn’t something we immediately knew how to answer. (“Um....alcohol?”) Magana asked some follow-up questions, then decided, “I’m going to take you to Syrah Land.”

He brought us a 2007 Syrah ($32) from the Twisted Sisters winery in Paso Robles. And off we went, to Syrah Land—and enjoyed a robust, dark-berried, oak-barreled red wine poured into the kind of large wine glass you almost need two hands to hold properly.

While sipping this phenomenal fermented grape juice, we noticed one of the nicer touches about the Vine Cottage’s interior—two video screens on the far walls, but they’re not playing sports or news. No, they’re showing segments of black-and-white classics such as the 1920 expressionist film The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, Frankenstein, the comedies of Buster Keaton and Charlie Chaplin, or hokey 1950s educational films like Habit Pattern: Psychology for Living.

The images are silent, but you might catch Popeye or Betty Boop out of the corner of your eye while the restaurant’s sound system plays 1940s swing or the soundtrack to French animation of  The Triplets of Belleville. These are minor touches, but they add a dash of culture that is appreciated.

Our entrees arrived, a diverse assortment that had made it challenging for Magana to recommend a wine. My vegetarian friend tried the soup du jour ($5)—a creamy, garlic-tinged tomato bisque—followed by the Garden Penne ($12). This green-hued, pestoey pasta dish features mixed vegetables (peppers, zucchini) and portobello mushrooms in a sun-dried tomato sauce. A thin man who tends to nosh lightly, my friend downed the whole plate like an eating-contest pro, all the while praising the meal’s understated qualities and adding the word, “yummy.”

My other friend (the first friend’s girlfriend, if you must know) had the seafood option among the six featured entrees: The Sea & Garden ($16). It’s a pine nut crusted hunk of Wahoo fish set on garlic mashed potatoes and asparagus, and topped with crispy leeks. She summed up the meal as “very good to excellent,” touting the fish’s lack of dryness, how the asparagus was cooked just right, and the “great” potatoes.

I had the Vine & Fillet ($22), a tenderloin steak seared in a French skillet with a red wine reduction, and set atop a bed of garlic mashed potatoes. Ordered medium rare, the steak was nearly as mouth-wateringly tender and sumptuous as a filet mignon, and the accompanying carrots and asparagus added a nice contrast in texture, taste and color.

To have dessert, or not to have dessert?

We went for it—and were glad to have split the Ice Cream Mud Pie ($7) among three people. Any fewer and it would have been too much of a euphoric, sugar-rushing, decadent chocolatey thing. The Ice Cream Mud Pie is so much more than Heath bar ice cream and mud; it’s loaded with caramel, hot fudge, peanut butter, and an impressively thick Oreo crust that miraculously neither sticks to your teeth nor leaves you longing for a large glass of milk.