Here's everything you can order from Joyce, downtown LA's new Southern oasis

“Sacred” wouldn’t be too strong a word to describe the status of one-pot rice dishes in the culinary traditions of the American coastal South.

Their names—red rice, dirty rice, bog, jambalaya, hoppin' John, perloo—speak to regional vernacular as well as textural differences or time-honored combinations of meat, seafood, or legumes. The famous Louisiana creations, for example, tend to be fluffier or juicier than the South Carolinian bog, which is just as soupy as the word suggests.

They all share the legacy of generations of enslaved Africans and African Americans, many of whom originated in West Africa, where rice has been grown for thousands of years, who transformed southern tidal fields into engineering marvels under cruel conditions and codified adaptive recipes in the kitchens where they worked.

Perloo is a heavily spiced staple of the South Carolina Lowcountry, traditionally fortified with bountiful livestock. The word, whose origin is unclear, is probably linked to the Indian pulao and the Persian pilau through centuries-long maritime trade routes. In “Gullah Geechee Home Cooking: Recipes from the Matriarch of Edisto Island,” Emily Meggett's essential book about Lowcountry Sea Island Creole eating habits, she includes a downright delicious chicken perloo basted in bacon fat and doubled with salt pork.

You don't see much Perloo on restaurant menus, especially in Los Angeles, but chef Sammy Monsour has built a career using his North Carolina roots as a worldview and springboard. At Joyce, the restaurant he opened with three partners in downtown Los Angeles last August, he dials back the pork quality and builds his loose, layered take on the dish around seafood.

Carolina Gold, a nutty-tasting long-grain rice grown on Edisto Island, simmers in lobster stock and tomato broth with onions, garlic, green pepper and other aromatics. Tiger prawns peek out from between the cooked grains. Pieces of Spanish-style smoked chorizo ​​and shucked oysters are spread on the surface. Monsour's version is moister than most and has the pleasant consistency of congee – more like Carolina Moor, come to think of it. The presentation exudes generosity, both in scope and in spirit. Its taste varies between earthy and shellfish-sweet.

I could start dinner at Joyce's with a seafood platter, or small plates of coconut milk-braised kale and crispy, squishy hushpuppies seasoned with crawfish and pointed pieces of fried catfish, combined with Nashville-style spicy chicken. However, I find it difficult to deviate from Perloo as a main course. Partly because I like it so much, and also because it embodies the most concentrated aspects of Monsour's often abstracted approach to coastal southern cuisine. Angelenos may remember his global approach during his four years at Preux & Proper, also downtown, which closed in 2020.

His new project is on a wide block at the foot of the Eighth & Grand Apartments. The surrounding street energy, a sentient table of crowded sidewalks and constant traffic create a pleasant mood change as you enter the restaurant. Designed by Lauren Waters, the space has a calming atmosphere that transcends the effervescent crowds at night. The powder blue walls match the color of the benches, whose upholstery is as soft as a comfort blanket. Woven dining chairs and wicker chandeliers that cast orange light give the room a sophisticated feel.

Note the trio of mounted portraits by local artist Shannon Scates, depicting a woman at different ages and fashion periods in her life. This is the restaurant's namesake and the mother of Prince Riley, who founded Joyce with his wife Athena Riley. Prince has been running restaurants since college, most recently Old Crow Smokehouse, and for the couple's first venture he wanted to honor his mother's legacy: She was born in Alabama and grew up in Georgia before moving to Chicago, where Prince grew up.

Working with Monsour and beverage director Kassady Wiggins, who are also married, was a natural fit. Wiggins, a South Carolina native, takes up Joyce's thesis in her cocktail lineup. She skillfully optimizes the old-fashioned with Maker's Mark 46; Woodford Reserve sassafras and sorghum bitters with their subtle notes of root beer; and syrup made from roasted benne, the forerunner of the modern sesame variety with ties to West Africa and a long history in Charleston.

Their team of bartenders have an equally good knack for pungently icy gin martinis. They go really well with oyster platters or other raw bar dishes like Hokkaido scallops on the half shell, garnished with bright, citrus-infused mirin, caramelized fennel relish, and scattered benne seeds. The garnishes, especially the fennel, float to the edge and overwhelm the scallops without completely toppling over.

As someone from the South, I admit that I prefer the already complex dishes of the region's many different cuisines to maintain a recognizable sense of place. So I reach for Monsour's pan full of crispy cheddar baked macaroni and cheese; the honey-glazed fried game chicken with a side of angel biscuits, tiny but mighty; and a straightforward smoked pork chop with grits, coffee jus (with red-eye sauce) and chow chow, the region's ubiquitous pickled relish.

Sometimes dishes like sticky lamb ribs glazed in thick pomegranate molasses barbecue sauce and finished with fried rosemary and pickled persimmons seem overdone, and an overly elaborate version of a Caesar salad could use one less ingredient. Elsewhere, the seasoning needs adjusting: The spice mix on the shrimp cocktail is heavily salty and unnecessary, and rockfish ceviche on mashed avocado and covered in pomegranate and pumpkin seeds could just use more acidity. I wish the crab baked under a blanket of Gruyère didn't taste so fishy.

For dessert, beignets are the best way to round off the meal and welcome the basics. Your pudding-like treat straight from the fryer doesn't have to rely on the bourbon vanilla dulce de leche dipping sauce, although it doesn't take away from it either.

Joyce is also open for lunch, a blessing at a time when there are fewer and fewer lunch restaurants downtown. The kitchen prepares a fun, spicy chicken sandwich with pimento cheese.

The restaurant has also found a weekend brunch crowd. Monsour takes a playful approach: a smash burger with Duke's mayonnaise sweetened with maple syrup and cinnamon, avocado toast with cucumber-mint salsa and a drizzle of Benne tahini.

It probably won't be a surprise that I instead go straight for the long-cooked cabbage and the unfussy shrimp, served atop pink-flecked grits made from a variety of Edisto Island-grown corn called Jimmy Red.