In Sherman Oaks, there’s a block of Woodman Avenue just above the 101 where the landscape very much belies its bucolic naming. Any flannel that might incidentally pass through the area will see a lot more craft beer than wood chips in its lifetime. The west side of the street hosts a sprawling Westfield mall and an imposing Joann Fabric, and the drone of the freeway raises the noise floor of the block considerably. Nevertheless life finds a way, and sprouting out of the east side of the street is one of LA’s newest and finest vegan pizza spots.
At the entrance to Donna Jean a keyhole door frame leads to a weathered host stand on casters. A foldout blackboard wears an illustration of their emblem – – a cardinal perched on the back of a bear – – and asks that I please wait to be seated. Perhaps this image symbolizes radical peace between species; perhaps it’s simply meant to serve as a warning on the perils of seating oneself recklessly.
Polished concrete floors, exposed ductwork and vivid monstera plants set the scene. Low-hanging lamps keep the lighting relatively bright. A ring-tailed lemur gazes soulfully from a gallery wall near the kitchen doors. The space is industrial and somewhat stark, but with a few joyous splashes of personality throughout. A waiter leads us to a table and asks my wife and I if we would like some H2O while we wait; after taking a few minutes to settle our little one we place our order and eagerly await our starter salad and pizzas.
The dressing on our Caesar salad is subtle and creamy rather than the bright and funky pop that I would typically expect, but the butter lettuce and radish coins are delightfully fresh. Thick shavings of vegan parmesan add a grain to complement the smooth dressing and delicate lettuce, and the radish deftly adds back a pungency withheld from the dressing. I always appreciate beautiful garnishes that serve a deliberate role.
Now come the pizzas. The Funghazi is topped with ricotta, mixed mushrooms, red onion, spinach, and a truffle cream. The ricotta is rustic yet silky; The mushrooms lie somewhere amidst the ricotta and the truffle cream, which keeps them plump through the bake. I typically prefer mushrooms that sweat it out on top in order to clarify their delicate flavors, but while this is not quite the mushroom-centric experience that the name would suggest it’s hard to argue with the overall results. The flavors are sophisticated and well-layered, and fans of garlicky white pies will not be disappointed.
The Widow has a stark canvas of black garlic and smoked date puree. Dabs of ricotta spot the backdrop like little moons, more judiciously applied here than on the Funghazi, and cross sections of pickled pepper open up the palate. Slivers of red onion round out the picture; you can see the rough silhouette of a barbeque pizza without too much squinting, but this is no mere cover of someone else’s hit song. The sweet and smoky sauce is unique and devastatingly tasty, and the use of pickled peppers to break out the bright notes into a discrete component gives it a personality all its own.
The Bad Motorfinger flirts with genius. The leading notes are fennel, red onion, and crushed tomato. Tempeh and sausage bring both bounce and crumble, and Calabrian chiles add a gentle heat. A few salty olives crank up the gain but remain tempered by a drizzle of sweet saba. My wife and I start shooting each other looks after our first bite; by the time we finish the pie we’re ready to chisel it into our Mt. Rushmore.
In classic west-coast fashion Donna Jean serves up crackly whole-grain crusts topped with creative seasonal ingredients and gourmet finishes. The Black Widow and the Caesar in particular illustrate a common thread in their dishes; there’s a degree of ease with how they deconstruct familiar flavors and redesign them in novel ways with quality regional ingredients – – while still keeping the overall profiles within the realm of comfort food. Not only is this no easy feat, but this approach also serves vegan cuisine particularly well. It’s a wonderful framework for leveraging nostalgia while painting with a health-conscious plant-based palette.
A more likely interpretation of their logo, a cardinal alighting on a bear, is that it represents a wandering St. Louis chef settling on California as a lasting source of inspiration. Who could blame the cardinal? To serve up such a memorable meal on such a forgettable block is very LA; emotive culinary experiences in brutalist settings are fundamental to our food culture, and this dining experience meets our city on its level. Donna Jean offers a touching tribute to our state’s finer flavors and sets the curve for west coast style pizza.
