If I Won the Lottery Tomorrow, I Wouldn't Tell a Soul, But Here's How You'd Know
If I won the lottery tomorrow, I wouldn't say a word. No new car, no Rosewood San Miguel vacation announcement, no humblebrag at brunch. Same apartment. Same dog. Same group chat. But there would be signs...
A new line item on my Resy calendar at 6:45pm. A sudden willingness to drive to Encino on a Tuesday. A quiet confidence at the omakase counter that wasn't quite there last quarter. A vacation day burned on a lunch reservation.
Because every LA food person has a list. The restaurants you've stalked for years, screenshotted to your most expensive friend, and rescheduled into next quarter, every quarter. The ones that require $400 a head before wine, a free Wednesday, and the kind of disposable income I currently do not possess. The bucket list. The dream slate. The Mt. Everest–sized hole waiting to be drilled through my bank account the moment fate, in the form of six unlikely numbers, agrees with me.
These are the 10 I'd hit first. I haven't been to a single one of them yet. That's the point. This isn't a guide; it's a sick, twisted, fantasy.
1. Somni
West Hollywood – Aitor Zabala's avant-garde Catalan counter, now one of LA's first three-star restaurants
Aitor Zabala's avant-garde tasting menu is one of the most-whispered-about tables in the city, and as of June, one of only two three-Michelin-starred restaurants in LA. Fourteen seats. Twenty-plus courses of modernist Catalan technique. Friends from culinary school who snagged a gig there pulling petals off a flower for 4+ hours a night. Built around a counter where chefs cook a foot from your face and a price tag ($645 before wine) best opened with deep breathing exercises. I've watched the menu video. I've read the reviews twice. I am ready.
2. Sushi Park
Sunset Plaza – The most famous strip mall sushi spot in LA
No website. No Instagram. No DM strategy. Just a phone number, a tiny window, and a prayer. Chef Park's omakase has become a kind of LA shibboleth, if you've been, you don't really talk about it; you just nod knowingly when it comes up. Half the room is on a movie poster. The other half got incredibly lucky on a Tuesday at 10am sharp. I'm ready for some self-discovery via a piece of nigiri to figure out which side I'm on.
3. Nozawa Bar
Beverly Hills – Sushi like a secret kept better than your schoolyard crush
Tucked behind Sugarfish like the world's most polite speakeasy, Nozawa Bar serves an omakase to ten seats a night. No menu. No mercy. People come out of that room talking in hushed, almost religious terms about the bluefin and the rice and the order of operations. Call it projection, but I'd like to come out of that room with the exact same list of problems.
4. n/naka
Palms – Two Michelin stars, one kaiseki, no shortcuts
Yes, I know—I've written about n/naka before. Writing about a place is not the same as eating at a place. Chef Niki Nakayama's kaiseki tasting is the meal people fly in for, propose at, and describe to their therapist months later. The reservation drops three months out and disappears in the time it takes to refill your coffee. If I win the lottery, this is the first table I book. Possibly before I finish my student loans.
5. Hayato
Arts District – Eight seats, two stars, total focus
Brandon Go's kappo counter has, by every account I've heard, the kind of energy you only get in restaurants where the chef is doing something deeply personal. No phones at the counter. No chatter. Just a hinoki bar, a tiny menu printed on washi, and a meal that takes its time. I want to be quiet in that room.
6. Kato
ROW DTLA – Taiwanese-American tasting that grew up in public
Jonathan Yao moved Kato from a humble West LA strip mall to a glossy ROW DTLA space, picked up a Michelin star along the way, and somehow didn't lose the soul of the thing. Forgot to grab me en route, though. Friends who've been describe a meal that makes you a little emotional about pantry staples. I'd like to cry over a noodle for once.
7. Providence
Melrose – Michael Cimarusti's seafood temple that quietly runs the city
Providence has anchored LA's fine dining conversation for the better part of two decades without ever really chasing a trend, it just keeps quietly being excellent. Two Michelin stars. Chef Michael Cimarusti's seafood tasting menu, sourced like a religious practice. A hushed dining room and a service team that doesn't miss. The kind of restaurant that's been on every "best of" list since before half the "best of" lists existed. I'd like to find out, finally, whether twenty years of consensus is right (it’s definitely right, I’d just like a seat at the table).
8. Pasta Bar
Encino – Pasta, eight seats, no shame
From the same Frankland Lee operation, but with noodles instead of nigiri. A tasting menu built entirely around hand-pulled, hand-cut, hand-filled pasta. Theatrical in the way Italian grandmothers are theatrical, with butter, with patience, with the slow build of a perfectly ribboned tajarin. The kind of dinner where you stop pretending "Italian isn't your favorite cuisine" because you're just slightly afraid of carbs.
9. Berenjak
West Hollywood – The London Persian sensation, finally on this coast
Berenjak made its name in Soho with open-fire kababs, koobideh that hisses on the bread, and a wine list that takes Iranian dining seriously. Now it's here, and every Persian friend I have has opinions. I want to walk in with no opinions yet, just an empty stomach, a glass of something cold and orange, and the newfound ability to afford saffron not just in the wild but also at home.
10. Muse Santa Monica
Santa Monica – The ocean-view counter everyone keeps telling me about
A small tasting menu room near the water, the kind of place that doesn't shout but somehow always fills. The descriptions I've heard are vague in the way restaurants people don't want to share are vague, you have to go, I can't really explain it, trust me. I want to be one of those vague people. Oh god, do I want to be vague, instead I'm plagued with approachability. I want to be the kind of person to say “words just fail me,” at a dinner party.
The Lottery List
None of these are casual. None of these are cheap. None of these are places you stumble into after a bad day at the office, unless your office is north of the 30th floor. They're appointments with chefs at the top of their game, the kind of meals you save for, plan around, and earn. And they require a sudden cash event of the lottery-winning variety to do them all in close succession without filing for divorce or bankruptcy.
So if you catch me describing a meal that ran north of $500 and I'm being critical without being bitter, there to discover, not to litigate whether it earned its check, you'll know. The numbers hit. I just decided to spend it on dinner.
Now, where would you start?
