Ten Places to Eat in Santa Monica If You’re Hot, Hungry, and a Little Bit Hungover
If you find yourself in Santa Monica nursing an Aperol hangover and an unrelenting craving for something salty, sexy, and satisfying, welcome. You’ve stumbled into one of LA’s most confusing neighborhoods: part surf-town fantasy, part tech bro watering hole. But when it comes to food? Santa Monica eats. Here’s your no-bullsh*t guide to dining like a deliciously jaded local.
Giorgio Baldi
You go here when your stepdad’s cousin with a SAG card is in town, or when you want to be within breathing distance of Rihanna. It’s candlelit, paparazzi-stalked, and proudly stuck in 1998 (in the best anytown-usa-nostalga, kind of way). The sweet corn agnolotti will make you cry a little, and the clientele is just pretentious enough to make your knockoff bag feel like a power move.
Fia Restaurant
Date night with someone whose parents probably own a boat? Fia is your move. This garden hideaway serves swanky coastal California food with the kind of lighting that makes everyone look 22 and well-hydrated. Order the truffle pasta. Order two. Call your therapist after.
Melisse
This is not dinner. This is edible theater. You’ll sit through a multi-course tasting menu that feels like an ayahuasca trip in foie gras form. Melisse is for when you’re feeling opulent, focused, and in possession of a credit card that does not decline. It’s serious, it’s stunning, it’s borderline tantric.
Bay Cities
This isn’t a deli, it’s a religion, vermin infestation aside. You come for the Godmother sandwich and stay because the line tests your patience and your will to live. Unless you're an East Coast transplant, in which case you’ve trained for this exact scenario. It’s loud, chaotic, and smells like oregano and destiny. Grab a basket, elbow your way through, and pretend you’re not making eye contact with the tiramisu on your way out.
Elephante
Elephante is not a restaurant, it’s a casting call. You’ll flirt with someone wearing Balenciaga slides and order wood-fired pizzas you’ll pretend to split. It’s loud, chaotic, and weirdly addictive. The view slaps, the drinks flow, and your hangover tomorrow, and the stories you collect just walking to the bathroom, will be cinematic.
Le Great Outdoor
This is what happens when the guy from the college camping club you had a crush on gets a design degree. Think picnic tables, rotisserie meats, and the smell of smoked herbs clinging to your overpriced hoodie. It’s giving rustic, it’s giving curated wilderness, and the chicken sandwich deserves a national holiday.
Birdie G’s
Birdie G’s is like your cool Jewish grandma if she went to Burning Man and came back with a fermentation hobby. Matzo ball soup with a twist, heritage grains, and neon signs that make you question your sexuality. Order the LA galbi and the rose petal pie. Thank me (or jeremy fox) later.
Layla Bagel
This is your carb-safe space. Get the za’atar-spiced bagel, smear it with whipped anything, and feel reborn. Layla is tiny, cute, and filled with people who look like they work in "creative strategy." It’s the breakfast version of a very expensive hoodie that actually fits.
Pasjoli
Chef Dave Beran’s Michelin-starred bistro is a love letter to French decadence, with a SoCal side piece. The pressed duck is absurd in the best way, and the onion tart might spiritually realign you. You’ll spend too much, you’ll moan a little, and you won’t shut up about it for weeks.
Cobi's
Cobi’s is what happens when your Southeast Asia backpacking phase grows up and gets a skincare routine. It’s floral wallpaper, loud flavors, and a spice level that does not care about your weak constitution. The Malaysian noodles hit like a fever dream, the fried chicken is disrespectfully good, and you’ll leave smelling like sambal and success.
Final Thoughts
Santa Monica might be a confusing matrix of wellness and wealth, but it sure knows how to feed you. Whether you're looking for rooftop flirtation, Michelin stars, or a bagel that could fix your emotional damage, this city's got you.
