If you live in Los Angeles and are even remotely acquainted with the foodie scene, then you've probably heard of, dined at, or at least waited in line for Gjelina. It's the type of place that's cool enough to have a nameless industrial exterior, recognizable merely by the perennial crowd of brunch-goers parked on the pavement any given weekend. The woman seated next to me, who was digging into gnocchi, pizza, and a rhubarb pie with abandon, explained that her date had brought her to the restaurant even though he was on a fast because it was his "favorite restaurant." His affection for Gjelina (or his meal partner) was so great that he was willing to live vicariously through her culinary experience. After dealing with an hour's worth of hanger, however, my tastebuds were sadly underwhelmed; Despite artistic plating and intriguing combinations, this place fails to deliver on its hype. The smoked salmon had an oddly rigid texture and wasn't particularly fresh, the thin crust pie disappointed in the dough department, the okra was far too buttery to even resemble a vegetable, and the rest of the fare was similarly slathered in cheese, salt, or cream. The verdict: not even a truffle gruyére pizza is worth an hour's worth of hanger, especially when it doesn't even taste like truffles.