The Strip-Mall Riviera: Eating Between Coldwater and Woodman
Ten restaurants proving the Valley stopped caring what anyone over the hill thinks.
The Bougainvillea Belt
There’s a stretch of Ventura Boulevard where strip malls bloom like bougainvillea. Between Coldwater Canyon and Woodman Avenue, the awnings shimmer with the ghosts of dry cleaners channeling their mid-century-modern nostalgia, and the holy ghosts of chicken shawarma. This is where the Valley’s culinary personality feels most fully formed: equal parts neighborhood and next-level, half family joint, half wine bar pouring a $90 Burgundy by the glass.
In this part of the Valley, food forgets to posture. It just shows up, hot, generous, unapologetic. You sweat under neon, trade glances with someone’s mom at the next table, and realize the magic of this boulevard isn’t that it’s cool, it’s that it doesn’t care whether you think it is. It just keeps cooking.
1) Anajak Thai (Sherman Oaks)
If the Valley had a town square, it would be the alley behind Anajak Thai on a Tuesday night. Order the Thai Taco Tuesday set, let the smoke braid itself into your sweater, never to be worn the same again, and say yes to whatever seafood tostada they’re serving. On non-Tuesdays, the cellar-nerd wine list turns jungle curry into a Burgundy-fueled conversation you’ll absolutely remember, and hopefully slightly regret.
Chef Justin Pichetrungsi keeps the place anchored in family and amped on ideas. It’s no surprise that Anajak’s family roots, polished by his modern instincts, have become the perfect equation for racking up national attention, and the kind of hardware that makes the rest of the country finally look toward Sherman Oaks.
Order this: Southern Thai fried chicken; jungle curry; TTT tacos (if it’s Tuesday).
Need-to-know: TTT is outdoors with a dedicated menu; the restaurant runs limited reservations plus some walk-ins for it. Plan like a person who’s loved before.
2) Sushi Note (Sherman Oaks)
A minimal room, bright fish, and a wine-and-sake list that reads like a novel with a clean ending. Sushi Note is proof that omakase doesn’t have to mean silence, minimalism, or a terrifying bill. There’s warmth here, chefs who talk to you like people, a soundtrack that fits instead of stretches, and fish that’s rich, supple, and oceanic without ever flexing too hard.
Come solo for the Half Note, or sit at the counter for the kind of omakase that feels human: precise but relaxed, serious about flavor without taking itself too seriously. Sushi Note has heart. It’s the kind of place that redefines what a “fancy” sushi night can feel like.
Order this: Whatever the chef is most excited about, plus the dessert you didn’t think you wanted.
Need-to-know: Michelin likes it; the inspectors call out the “distinctly focused” wine selection. Translation: your glass will make sense.
3) Petit Trois Le Valley (Sherman Oaks)
This is where you go when your week requires butter therapy or your brain needs psychoanalyzing by béarnaise. The omelette is a rumor that turns out to be true, warm custard disguised as breakfast, and Le Big Mec is the Frenchest, sauciest L.A. burger flex (wear a dark shirt to save your dignity). The room is big-hearted: mint banquettes, high ceilings, a little Paris, a lot of Ventura.
Order this: Le Big Mec; onion soup; trout amandine if you’re pretending to behave.
Need-to-know: Lunch through late; weekend brunch starts early. Book the chef’s counter if you can and ease-drop on the dicey conversation happening next to you.
4) Osteria La Buca (Sherman Oaks)
A country-Italian tavern that feels like it borrowed your friend’s very stylish kitchen. The carbonara is glossy without bragging; the chopped salad has real crunch; and the pizzas are L.A.-produce fireworks. It’s a carbon copy (in the best way) of the Hollywood favorite, now perfectly at home on Ventura, like someone who finally stopped pretending they’d ever move back over the hill.
Order this: Bucatini carbonara; guanciale pie; butterscotch budino if it appears.
Need-to-know: Open daily; Aperitivo hour 3–5 p.m. at the bar is a cheat code.
5) Pizzana (Sherman Oaks)
Daniele Uditi’s slow-fermented “neo-Neapolitan” crust is a trampoline, crisp at the edges, a little chew, plenty of lift. And if the food alone weren’t enough to make you feel something, his LELE pop-ups seal the deal: one-night dinners with six thousand people waiting for a taste that feels like a secret passed between friends. They’ve got that kind of energy, the one you can’t fake, can’t replicate, can only line up for. So if that line from One Battle After Another was true, this one doesn’t pop for everyone, it definitely pops for Daniele’s pop-ups.
The Cacio e Pepe pie is textbook L.A.: Roman idea, SoCal swagger. When you want comfort that still sparkles, this is the room.
Order this: Cacio e Pepe; Neo-Margherita; a soft-serve swirl if they’re pouring it.
Need-to-know: The dough ferments for two days; plan a second pie. Your future self deserves it.
6) Augustine Wine Bar (Sherman Oaks)
A bar for romantics and archivists: chalkboard-listed vintages by the glass, the occasional time-machine pour that makes you text a friend, a watering-hole acquaintance, and a late-night fling all at once. Even after the fire that nearly erased it, Augustine returned like a favorite record, slightly warped, but somehow better for it. The room remains dim, amber, gently obsessed; the kind of place that still whispers date night to anyone who cares about history in a stem.
Order this: Ask for what’s weird and wonderful by the glass; charcuterie if you must perform restraint.
Need-to-know: Now open seven nights; check that chalkboard for the once-in-a-lifetime stuff.
7) Mizlala (Sherman Oaks)
Modern Middle Eastern with family DNA—Simon’s Café became Danny Elmaleh’s Mizlala, and the Valley is better for it. The Moroccan fried chicken snaps like a good comeback; the artichoke hummus is silky; the salads are herb jungles. Everything feels bright, effortless, a little flirty. Mizlala plays it cool, the kind of place that doesn’t text first but somehow always ends up on speed dial (am I aging myself?), tasting better every time, like confidence earned the slow way.
Order this: Moroccan (or chicken) shawarma plate; crispy broccoli; tahina shake on a hot day.
Need-to-know: The original location; open daily with counter service and the kind of speed that feels kind.
8) Sincerely Syria (Sherman Oaks)
From a tiny Hollywood window to Valley staple, the shawarma here is a midnight confession, juicy, peppery, wrapped tight, and griddled until the pita crackles. If Ventura Boulevard is your errand route, this is your edible victory lap. The critics have been loud about the quality; you’ll be louder, sorry to your car’s upholstery.
Order this: Mixed lamb & beef wrap; extra garlic sauce; consider the 12-inch if you “aren’t that hungry.”
Need-to-know: The Sherman Oaks outpost keeps later hours on weekends; Hollywood and Pasadena siblings exist when you’re across the hill.
9) Borekas Sephardic Pastries (Sherman Oaks)
Flaky, sesame-showered borekas that require two hands and zero small talk. Fillings rotate from spinach-feta to ricotta-za’atar; coffee in one hand, warm pastry in the other, it’s the Valley’s superior morning commute. The shop bills itself as America’s first dedicated borekas spot, and the lines agree.
Get in line, make your order, and while you wait, start bargaining with yourself, the hunger talking, the patience thinning, the smell of butter making promises it fully intends to keep. Then you take that first bite, and suddenly every bad decision feels fixable, at least until the last crumb disappears.
Order this: Potato–brown butter; ricotta–za’atar; ask about seasonal specials before they sell out.
Need-to-know: They do sell out, preorder if TikTok diagnosed you with anxious attachment style.
10) Oy Bar (Studio City)
A moody, vintage bar where the menu reads like a fever dream you have after watching Anyone But You while binging Chinese takeout, and somehow, it totally works. Pastrami quesadillas, “everything bagel” sushi, Hainanese-ish chicken and rice, strong cocktails. Chef-owner Jeff Strauss calls the vibe “Jewish-Japanese, if the Japanese guy was a Mexican cook and the Jewish guy was from India,” which is exactly the kind of chaos you want at 9:30 p.m.
Order this: Matzo ball ramen if it’s on; the burger; a stirred, spirit-forward something.
Need-to-know: Walk-in heavy, small room, late kitchen. Bring a backup plan, or just be charming.
How to Eat This List
Sequence it: Borekas → coffee walk → Mizlala lunch → Augustine pre-dinner glass → Anajak (weekday) or Sushi Note (counter) → Oy Bar nightcap.
Reservations & realities: Anajak Tuesdays are a different service with specific rules; Sushi Note books up; Petit Trois and La Buca are friendlier to last-minute weekday swings. Plan ahead or get lucky, both strategies work.
Bring a cooler: For pastries and leftover pizzas, Ventura parking-lot picnics are a lifestyle, not a fluke.
The Boulevard Keeps Going
This isn’t the Valley, not even close. This is a slice, one particular rhythm of Ventura where the parking lots shimmer at golden hour and the food keeps getting braver. There’s another version of this story waiting further west: Tarzana’s old-school grills, Encino’s sushi corridors, the Sherman Way underdogs still plotting their glow-up.
For now, stay between Coldwater and Woodman. Get the boreka while it’s warm, the jungle curry while it’s hot, and the glass of wine that costs more than your lunch. The Valley, it turns out, is no longer a punchline, it’s a thesis. And this is just part one.
