While I was in Anaheim a week and a half ago for VidCon 2024, I joined some friends at the Anaheim White House Italian steakhouse for dinner. The restaurant was decently close to the Convention Center near where we were staying, and it was marketed as a nice and high-end restaurant, so we figured it would be a good spot to check out while we were in town.
We were wrong.
We were seated outdoors on a microscopically small table cluttered with four people’s worth of eating utensils plus a rose vase and an aggressively orange light in the center. The table was barely large enough to accommodate two people, let alone four. The strange light made all my photos impossible to color balance.
Our napkins were laid out on the table in the shape of a suit jacket with a black paper bowtie on top. Our waiter came around and said “let me tuck you in,” swiftly grabbed the napkin, sent the paper bowtie flying airborne across the table, then plopped the napkin down nearly as-is on my lap without even unfolding it.
While we were browsing the menu, we received some complementary bread. Rather than giving us a bread basket, they instead gave each of us one single roll with enough butter for an entire loaf of bread. The roll honestly wasn’t that bad, but it was tiny, and considering that they didn’t actually give us the basket, I couldn’t help myself to seconds.
After a fairly long wait after ordering, our first appetizer came out—oven-roasted pork belly with maple balsamic and orange sauce. We were conveniently served three pieces for a table of four, so we split each piece into three-quarters, with the lucky fourth person having three one-quarter pieces.
The fatty part of the pork belly tasted as you’d expect from pork belly, but the meat was pretty dry. Overall, it was pretty underwhelming. At US$15.50, it was nowhere near worth the price.
Our second appetizer was White House salad with iceberg lettuce, mixed greens, carrots, and cherry tomatoes tossed in the house signature passion fruit and ginger vinaigrette.
I didn’t have more than a few bites of this, but it was clear that this was nothing more special than a regular salad. Unfortunately, it was US$12.50. You’re literally better off just going to the grocery store, picking a premium pre-made bagged salad, and buying a small bottle of dressing—at that price point, you’d probably get three pounds of better-tasting salad.
After another long wait, our entrées came out. One of my friends got a 22-ounce Angus Midwestern T-bone steak rubbed with Hawaiian sea salt and refined demi-glace. Comically, their menu called it “demi glaze.”
The portion size of this was too big for him, so I finished his leftovers. It wasn’t bad, but it was pretty unremarkable. His dish was US$59.50.
The best part about his dish, though, was the side he added on—Belgium white chocolate mashed potatoes for US$14.00. That tasted exactly how you’d expect—it was like taking a bite of mashed potato, taking a sip of melted white chocolate, and gargling it together in your mouth. The flavors did not complement each other at all whatsoever. It was absolutely horrid.
Dinner companion #2 got Midwest beef braised in Cabernet Sauvignon reduction, served with horseradish cream over yellow polenta, for US$41.00. I did not try any of this dish.
And finally, dinner companion #3 got a 10-ounce hanger steak in a chimichurri marinade of parsley, garlic, cilantro, cumin, and red chili flakes for US$44.50. I tried one piece of this, and the restaurant somehow successfully managed to overcook and undercook it at the same time.
For my meal, I ordered two small plates. When I told the waiter I was planning on doing that instead of ordering a regular full entrée, he glanced over at me through the corner of his eye as if I had just landed from Mars.
My first plate was braised frog legs a la Provencal with tomato, roasted garlic, extra virgin olive oil, and white wine over pasta, for US$18.95.
This was way overseasoned so the flavor of the frog legs was basically completely absent. It was also overwhelmingly salty, yet somehow bland at the same time—the salt had no actual base flavors to enhance, so it ended up sort of just being bitter. The pasta was slippery and watery, so it could not retain any of the sauce.
My second small plate was Louis Laulhère Bourgogne escargot with garlic, Pernod liqueur, and herbs for US$16.50.
This had the same problem as the frog legs—the garnish was way too strong, the entire dish was way too salty, and it felt like I was pickling the inside of my mouth while I was eating.
We shared two desserts as a table. The first was a banana tart made with layers of baked puffed pastry, Chantilly whipped cream, chocolate ganache, and caramelized bananas, served with crème anglaise and vanilla ice cream, for US$14.95.
For some reason, the waiter decided that this was the moment that they would take away that repulsive orange lamp. Take it away during our meal when we had so little real estate left on our table that plates were literally on the verge of falling off? Of course not. Take it away after we have one single dessert plate in the center of the table? Yes, no better time.
Anyway, this was the one and only dish of our entire meal that I thought was decent. With that being said, as you can see, ours apparently suffered a mild earthquake on the way to our table, as it was tipping over and about to slide off the plate. This lack of proper presentation seemed to be exclusive to our tart, though—I saw a different party order one too, and theirs completed the journey to their table remaining upright.
Our second dessert was a flourless Grand Mariner soufflé with chocolate ganache, crème anglaise, and Chantilly cream for US$17.95.
This literally tasted like sweetened scrambled eggs.
The interior of the restaurant had fairly over-the-top regal decor, which I guess was nice. Too bad we didn’t get to enjoy it during our meal, because we were seated outdoors on artificial turf instead.
One random quirk about this restaurant was that there were advertisements everywhere trying to convince you to donate to some cause. It was marketed so aggressively that my brain literally mentally filtered it out as spam, so I don’t even remember what it was for. There were donation collection stations near the entrance of the restaurant where you could swipe your card and it would automatically charge you your preferred denomination. I’ve never seen anything like it at a restaurant before.
After finishing our meal, we went outside and my friend gave his valet ticket to the attendant. The restaurant has a decently-sized parking lot to the west of the building, but they chose to block that off and make it valet-only for US$7.00. To earn the valet fee, the attendant made the treacherous trek of ten steps to my friend’s car and drove it the gruesome few seconds it needed to be moved so we could get in without having to make the epic voyage ourselves.
They didn’t even charge his car for him while we were eating. You know, just to make sure that his Tesla charger at home wouldn’t get upset that the car was cheating on it.
My friend tried to pay the parking fee with a credit card, but apparently they accept cash only at the valet stand. The attendant had to take my friend’s card and spend a few minutes going into the restaurant to run a charge on the card using the terminal, then brought out a full-blown check pad with a pen, along with a merchant and customer copy of a receipt for him to sign.
Oh, and they parked his car in a handicap spot. Just so the valet can make sure they’re not overworking themselves by having to walk too far, I guess.
Do not go to Anaheim White House.