John H.
Yelp
Palm Springs' hottest new restaurant is Bar Issi. This place has everything: art deco overload, mirrored and gold-leaf ceilings, chandeliers that look like they were made by tassel-loving witches, and dragon wallpaper that stares directly into your soul.
The vibe? Sensory overload -- but like... in a good way. There are flame-stitch patterned chairs that say "I brunch," Roman shades with palm fronds that whisper "Golden Girls realness," and beneath them? White pleated café curtains that are so cute and chic, it's like Blanche Devereaux is holding your hand through dinner.
Our server Amanda? A legend. She described the bread as "to die for" -- and while I didn't technically die, I did consider writing it into my will. The grilled octopus --
tender, charred just right, and plated like it was about to walk the runway. Even the squash blossoms were serving: lightly battered, stuffed with flavor, and possibly blessed by a tiny Italian grandmother backstage. They were out of branzino, so we got the chicken instead -- and thank God because it was crispy on the outside, tender on the inside, and made me believe in poultry again. It was almost better than their grilled octopus.
We also got the five-cheese pizza with hot honey (aka the edible version of a bear hug) and the shrimp linguine, which tasted like what happens when a yacht crashes into delicious. The linguine noodles were giving ramen, but the creamy sauce and shrimp were on point!
Drinks? I had the Melon Daisy -- a margarita's cooler, gayer cousin. Sweet, refreshing, not too sugary. My friend ordered a Mai Tai that came in a zebra-cup, which legally makes it a fashion accessory.
The music was perfect -- a chill DJ mix of '70s, '80s, and '90s. Kinda gay, but not too gay -- great for everyone from your brunch crew to your straight cousin who listens to The Killers. Volume? Just right. You could groove and hear your friends talk about who's aging well.
The tables had rechargeable lights, which are perfect for the sight-impaired, the selfie-inclined, and people who just love reading a curated menu under flattering LED. Also -- four individual bathrooms. FOUR. Because nothing kills the mood faster than waiting in line while doing the pee-pee dance behind a guy named Trent.
And let's talk about the eye candy. The servers and their assistants? Absolute smoke shows. Hotter than the wood-fired oven. They were giving chic, fit, and mildly unattainable -- the kind of staff you pretend not to notice while sucking in your stomach. We wanted to see more of Joel, so we stayed well hydrated so he could keep returning to top off our waters.
Bar Issi is a maximalist's dream, a grandma's fantasy, and a disco ball's fever dream -- and I loved every minute of it.