My Top 10 LA Restaurants (From Someone Who Cares More Than They Should)
There’s no rubric for this. No checklist, no credentials, no metrics. This is not the result of anonymous scoring or data analytics, and I am not the Michelin Guide. I don’t have a tweed blazer or a tasting spoon in my pocket. What I do have is a very personal obsession with eating and cooking in Los Angeles, a city so wide it can fit a hundred food cities inside it and still have room for a taco truck. This list isn’t definitive. It’s just mine. It might be the most LA list ever made. It might also be the culinary equivalent of wearing sunglasses indoors.
Because if you want a ten-point plan for understanding Los Angeles through food, and you’re not trying to blow $300 on a tasting menu, you could do a lot worse than starting here. These are the places I can actually afford to eat at. The spots I save up for, return to, or tell everyone about until they politely change the subject. Some are refined, some are chaotic. One feels like eating inside a pastry chef’s subconscious. There’s no through-line here except this: I love these places, and they show you what makes LA impossible to pin down.
1. Bavel
You go to Bavel and suddenly the words "modern Middle Eastern" feel too small. The lamb neck shawarma is a textural power move. The hummus will emotionally damage you in a good way. Bavel is loud, warm, grand, and deeply, luxuriously LA, even if I wouldn’t recommend applying for a line cook job there.
2. Majordomo
David Chang’s LA flagship is what happens when you let a chef cook like no one’s watching, but everyone still is. It’s got swagger, but the short rib with ssam condiments is a hug. The bing with spicy lamb ragu is an uppercut. You’ll need a reservation, you’ll probably over-order, and you won’t regret a bite.
3. Gjusta
I love a good brunch and I don’t care who knows it. Gjusta is chaos in the shape of a deli case. It's part Venice beach fever dream, part East Coast Jewish bakery, and fully committed to overachieving. The smoked fish game is elite. The baguettes could stop time. You will wait, and it will be worth it. Gjusta is like that friend who’s always late but always brings wine and gossip, maddening, magnetic, impossible to quit.
4. Guelaguetza
A cathedral of mole and music. Every Angeleno should be required to make pilgrimage here at least once. The red mole alone convinced me to have my honeymoon in Oaxaca. You feel the Oaxacan pride in every detail. It’s not trendy. It’s essential.
5. République
The reason this classic hits my list is because I’m a sucker for doing the simple things well, all I need is a fresh baguette, seasonal jam, good butter, and a cook who understands the craft of a soft scramble.
Is it breakfast? Is it dinner? Is it a bakery? Is it a former office of Charlie Chaplin turned into a fantasyland of French-Californian butter logic? Yes. Yes to all of it. République is what happens when a pastry chef and a French bistro fall in love.
6. Sushi Note
Omakase doesn’t have to mean sterile minimalism and a terrifying bill. Sushi Note has warmth. It has personality. The chefs talk to you like people. The fish quality is unreal, rich, supple, oceanic without being overpowering. But the surprise is how much heart the place has. It’s sushi that doesn’t take itself too seriously, even while being seriously good. It made me rethink what a "fancy" sushi night could feel like.
7. Antico Nuovo
It’s not flashy, it’s not loud, and that’s the point. Antico Nuovo cooks like someone’s nonna with a Michelin mindset. The focaccia is golden, the pastas are devotional, and the lasagna? A 40-layer sermon on restraint. You don’t come here to be seen, you come to be fed with quiet, astonishing confidence. It’s pasta church, and you’re a believer by the first course.
8. The Benjamin
You know how most new restaurants feel like they’re trying to go viral? The Benjamin does not care. It’s steakhouse-adjacent but not macho, charming without being cloying. The bar is serious, the wine list is smart, and the dry-aged meats are handled like treasure. There’s a sense of grown-up fun here, like someone finally figured out how to make dinner feel like a house party where all your friends are hot and the playlist just slightly misses the vibe in an endearing way.
9. Jitlada
Heat, funk, fire, chaos. It’s Southern Thai cooking with the volume turned all the way up. You sweat. You cry. You consider your mortality. You come back the next week. The menu is a novella, but the flavors are punk rock. Order from the secret menu if you're brave, and bring cash, water, and someone who won't judge you for weeping over jungle curry.
10. Park’s BBQ
The king of Koreatown. You smell like brisket for two days afterward and it’s absolutely worth it. Park’s is precise — the banchan is bountiful, the service is clinical in the best way, and the meat? Peerless. Whether it’s your first Korean BBQ or your hundredth, Park’s makes it feel like an event. Grill smoke, Soju, sizzling bulgogi — it’s a ritual, and this is the altar.
So no, this isn’t a list that follows the rules. But then again, neither does Los Angeles. And that’s the point. This isn’t about prestige or flexing reservations you booked a month out. It’s about flavor, feeling, and finding your version of the city — one plate at a time.
