F***, Chuck, Marry: My Favorite Los Angeles Restaurants

(Pescatarian Edition)

Let’s get something straight right off the bat: this isn’t your average listicle. If you're looking for a straightforward Yelp-style ranking, I kindly ask you to exit stage left. This is an unhinged love letter, a farewell note, a drunken voicemail, and a wedding speech to the restaurants that shaped my pescatarian life in Los Angeles.

All of the restaurants in this piece fall under the golden umbrella of favorites. Even the ones I’m chucking, I’ve loved – deeply, maybe too much – and like any toxic situationship, it’s not them, it’s me. Or, okay, it might be them too. These are the places that marked eras of my life, taught me who I was (or wasn’t), and some even tricked me into thinking I was “not like the other girls.” Spoiler: I am. We are.

So yes, this is satire. Yes, it’s deranged. Yes, it’s written with a fat grain of Maldon salt. But if we’re going to talk about restaurants in a city as complicated as LA, we might as well use the only framework that makes emotional sense: F***. Chuck. Marry.

Let’s get into it.

F***: Courage Bagels

Courage Bagels is that sweet-talking, tousle-haired guy at the party who everyone’s crushing on – and you are no exception. You tell yourself you're immune to trends. You're different. Then you find yourself giddily waking up early, dragging your half-asleep self to stand in line for 45 minutes and spending $25 on what is, essentially, a glorified piece of toast.

And yet? Worth it.

This is not a long-term thing. This is dopamine in edible form. Courage doesn’t want you to settle down – it wants you to evolve. It wants you to question your superiority complex while chewing on heirloom tomatoes and burnt everything bagels so crisp you almost feel like you're biting into an East Side philosophy degree. It's thrilling, fleeting, and will absolutely make you reflect on your own delusions. Honestly? That’s kind of hot.

Chuck: Craig's

Craig’s is like the guy who has everything on paper: charming, rich, a regular on the influencer circuit, and name-drops celebrities like he’s casually recounting who he ran into at Erewhon. And yet… something’s missing.

If you're pescatarian, you’re left trying to make a meal out of truffle fries, a sad martini, and the idea of being seated next to Ben Affleck. The bread basket is legendary – I’ll give it that – but once the flash dies down, all you’re left with is a steakhouse ambiance and a sense that you were more into the idea of Craig’s than Craig’s itself.

Let’s be real – the relationship was performative. And while performative love serves a purpose (hi, Instagram stories), it’s not sustainable. It's time to let go. Craig, you're being chucked. But you’ll always have JLo. And for that, I salute you.

Marry: Guelaguetza

You didn’t expect it. You didn’t plan for it. But there it was – quietly waiting off Olympic Boulevard – the love of your life.

Guelaguetza didn’t sweep you off your feet immediately. There was no flashy first kiss. Just a solid, meaningful connection built on depth, respect, and complexity. The Festival de Moles was your turning point – the moment the veil was lifted, and you realized you'd been looking for love in all the wrong places (and all the wrong sauces).

Guelaguetza doesn’t just feed you – it teaches you. It’s generous, unapologetically itself, and doesn’t need to shout to be heard. It’s the place you go back to year after year, through heartbreaks and job changes and spiritual awakenings. It’s a place that understands you, maybe better than you understand yourself.

Reader, I married them. And I’d do it again.

Final Thoughts

LA is a city of reinvention, ego, illusion, and magic. Restaurants here aren't just places we eat – they’re mirrors, lovers, heartbreakers, and sometimes, home. The “f***, chuck, marry” framework might sound flippant, but if you’ve ever cried in the parking lot of a now-closed favorite spot (RIP to them all), you know: food is never just food.

So, here's to Courage Bagels for reminding me that basic isn’t bad, to Craig’s for teaching me that glam doesn't equal good fit, and to Guelaguetza – my delicious, dependable, emotionally available life partner.

Stay tuned for the next edition of this series, where I’ll probably make inappropriate metaphors about pasta, romance, and civic pride. Until then, keep your taste buds sharp and your boundaries sharper.