Sometimes you just want to be on the roof. When I was about 13 years old, I discovered that I could clamber up onto the roof of my childhood home and get a few moments of angst-ridden introspection before having to return to the ground-level realities of schoolwork and family strife. Even today, I secretly look forward to swamp cooler maintenance because it affords me the view and aloof isolation that my inner-surly teenager relishes.
Ibiza, located on the second story of the historic Hotel Andaluz, offers a rooftop view. Its Second and Copper location isn’t ideal for people watching, however, nor is it a particularly beautiful landscape to look down on (unless you’re fond of the Convention Center parking lot). Still, you are up there, and on an early Summer evening with just enough of a chill in the air that the fire-topped fountain is lit, you can approach that feeling of solace.
Ibiza, located on the second story of the historic Hotel Andaluz, offers a rooftop view. Its Second and Copper location isn’t ideal for people watching, however, nor is it a particularly beautiful landscape to look down on (unless you’re fond of the Convention Center parking lot).
The green chile strips ($7) on the other hand are a weak link. The chile is bland and heatless and the effect is more of an elongated and limp jalapeño popper than the southwestern delicacy I hoped to discover. The Kobe beef sliders ($10) join the strips on the “don’t bother” portion of the menu. An order nets you three mini-burgers—we’re talking smaller than White Castle’s famous (and cheap) variety that inspired the “slider” term. The beef is good, mind you, but the portion is only suited to the hobbit-sized among us (though not those with a hobbit’s appetite).
Am I harping about prices too much? Probably. But there’s a reason. I don’t mind a more expensive dining option, but for such a thing to work, I need to feel like I’m experiencing something special, that the cost of the food and cocktails are worthwhile because of the quality and artistry of the dish and the rarified atmosphere. A good pricey restaurant should take you out of your day-to-day life and put you in a fantasy of the finer things. At a rooftop bar, you should find yourself in an aloof bubble, happy to spend the extra money to literally feel “above it all.”
Ibiza, frankly, does not quite achieve this. From the view of the Convention Center parking lot to the “small plates” that more than live up to the name, the fantasy—like the dishes themselves—is gone too soon. I never felt as if I was transcending my mundane reality. Instead, I felt like I was paying too much for too little food.