Danny Choi was no wine connoisseur when he bought Bacchus Wine Bar in 2017. He preferred Michelob to merlot, had never set foot in a winery and had no plans to run the place himself.
Yet these days, Choi is working “double full-time” at the restaurant, now called Bacchus Bar & Bistro, alongside three sommeliers and two bartenders. He even occasionally enjoys a glass of “really, really dry” Riesling.
“I didn’t know a red wine from a white wine at first – I was literally the laughingstock of the wine industry for many years,” he says. “But it was a good learning experience. I tried a lot of wines.”
Bacchus has overcome challenges beyond Choi’s learning curve during nearly a decade at Quail Hill Shopping Center. It navigated a three-year stretch without its star chef, Leo Moran, who moved out of the area. Choi enticed Moran back earlier this year, and at the chef’s urging, Bacchus added lunch and brunch service in March.
That change could help cement the draw for the loyal base of regulars to Bacchus. Nearby Hoag and Kaiser Permanente hospitals add a reliable stream of customers, many of whom come after ending their shifts. Now they also have a midday option, Choi says.
To keep things fresh, Choi continues to experiment. He was an early adopter of outdoor dining, setting up a patio when few others had done so. In 2024, he introduced Cozy Pine, a log-cabin-themed speakeasy with its own menu and craft cocktails. Accessed through a hidden entrance and conceived as a “restaurant within a restaurant,” it offers a more intimate setting than the main dining room. The concept taps into a long-running national appetite for intimate, hidden bars.
“It’s really, really cool,” Choi says of Cozy Pine. “We have people driving in from all over Southern California to check it out.”
More recently, Bacchus has expanded its menu, reflecting Moran’s origins in Querétaro, Mexico, by adding tacos and enchiladas to its longtime staples of burgers, pork chops and ceviche.
“We’ve gone through a lot of different renditions of Bacchus,” Choi says.
What has remained constant is the clientele: a neighborhood crowd that treats the restaurant as a kind of second living room. Choi enjoys seeing the same faces, a pattern that has helped sustain the business through its many iterations. Today, he believes Bacchus has found its stride: part wine bar, part neighborhood bistro, part experiment shaped by the people who keep coming back.
“I think we’re right about there – where we’re what this community needs,” Choi says, which makes him happy, since he has no plans to leave. “I love the area, I love the community, and I’d like to stay as long as I can.”
