Cafe Triste
Chinatown
Letter of Recommendation Los Angeles
Cafe Triste Defines a New Generation of Cool
Published:
I’m sitting at Cafe Triste on a recent night. A Parisian-style cave à manger in Chinatown. The type of place that’s rare in L.A. I’m solo at the bar. Above me, the shelving is mirror-lined and packed with tchotchkes mostly hidden from diners, except when viewed from across the bar. In between sips of white Cheverny, I’m hitting “tap to Shazam” for every song that comes on the speakers (“Be Mine” by Qendresa; “Snoopy” by Loukeman).
Around me, groups of people are wandering in, each more stylish than the last. I spot a pleather jacket. A designer handbag. Jeans made out of a patchwork of different denim swatches all stitched together. At a table behind me, a writer I recognize is in town from New York, talking to a journalist over wine and a bowl of broccoli gazpacho with fresh mint leaves and ripe strawberry slices. Later, a group of friends in their mid-20s come in for a shared meal (a cheese plate; shrimp and citrus salad). Another group of 20-somethings pause in the middle of their meal for a cigarette break. They start chatting with two guys already on the curb, their own wine glasses and cigarettes in hand.
This scene is different than the L.A. dining I’m used to. It’s looser, freer; like the flow of the city is coursing directly through the dining room itself. And because of that, it feels more vibrant than many other restaurants here, with their dining rooms that insulate guests from the outside world.
It’s clear that Cafe Triste is at the center of something— an embodiment of East side cool, of our proclivity toward flexible, drink-adjacent dining in the wake of the pandemic, of things done a new way by a younger generation. It is here that on any given weekend night, throngs of people spill out from the dining room onto the sidewalk, and visitors from as far away as New York and Paris stop by for a round.
A thought runs across my brain like a banner ad: am I not cool enough to be here? I’m just a guy in his late 30s who still wears slim-cut jeans and watches TikToks on Instagram. My fears are assuaged with the sight of a few others who don’t instantly scream “ultra-hip 20-something” (coworkers decompressing together with a bottle of wine; a father and daughter laughing together over a plate of anchovies in oil), and I begin to relax into the space.
That’s exactly what owners Quinn Kimsey-White and Zach Jarrett wanted when they opened Cafe Triste in late 2022. The pair had been running Psychic Wines in Silver Lake for some years as a bottle shop. Permitting and red tape kept the location as purely retail, rather than their dream of a wine bar. When a space presented itself in Chinatown, Kimsey-White and Jarrett jumped. As Kimsey-White told me on a recent visit: “It allowed us to fully contextualize the wines in a way that we weren’t able to in the store.”
But that context is never overly serious or stuffy. In fact, Cafe Triste has created an environment that allows diners to “occupy the space really freely — you can have whatever experience you want in here,” Kimsey-White continued. That is mostly true of many other restaurants, of course, yet Triste is exactly the kind of space at which you can dress up or dress down. Come for the celebration that lets you pop open a bottle of Domaine de Facteur’s bubbly Vouvray Brut, or take things a little slower, more introspectively, and watch the world go by over a chilled glass of Isastegi Basque cider.
It’s clear that Cafe Triste is at the center of something— an embodiment of East side cool, of our proclivity toward flexible, drink-adjacent dining in the wake of the pandemic, of things done a new way by a younger generation.
The decor matches Cafe Triste’s come-as-you-are ethos: walls are lined with idiosyncratic paintings and vases mixed in with kitschy posters and trinkets. The waitstaff reflects the atmosphere: they are attentive but never seem rushed, nor are they rushing you. Nurse a glass of Clos Carterole rosé for 20 minutes or two hours, it’s your call. It all makes sitting down at Cafe Triste like entering the living room of your chicest friend, who throws effortless-seeming dinner parties while making sure everyone feels included.
Still, food and wine are the heart of the operation. And the team has used their skills and taste to push Cafe Triste into the unexpected. As Kimsey-White notes, he worried that Triste occupies a space Angelenos are unaccustomed to — not quite a pure wine bar, nor fully a restaurant. It took diners a few months to figure the concept out, he explains, but once they did, “it became clear that they were just along for the ride. At that point we decided, ‘Okay, why don’t we keep it fast and loose with the wine service, and try and raise the bar as far as what the kitchen is putting out?”
What the kitchen is putting out is dictated by chef Hannah Chumley. And though it’s a small menu, it’s confident, playful, and fits whatever your mood. Looking for a small bite? Have a cheese plate or the house marinated olives. Looking for a proper dinner? Try the snap peas with a buttermilk sauce reminiscent of Ranch dressing; or the beet, sour cherry, and rhubarb salad.
I ask Chumley about her menu and comment on the fact that each dish has a curve-ball ingredient. She laughs, and says that “I’ll start a dish in my head at the beginning of the week, and if I’m not excited by it at the end of the week, it doesn’t go on the menu.” It’s the same modus operandi that governs many an artist’s practice: create an exciting, inspiring space to play in, follow the fun, and have confidence in the process.
“When Hannah’s really in her bag, she’s cooking with bright, exuberant flavors,” Kimsey-White says. Chumley’s stitched-together menu holds its own against many of the more expressive wines being poured. “If you have a wine that’s a little spritzy with really iridescent, ethereal aromatics, it’s nice to be able to drink that alongside a dish that is also a little attention-grabbing in its own way,” says Kimsey-White. In short: there’s nothing shy about the food or beverage menu, and the team behind the bar is self-assured even while experimenting.
What draws people to Cafe Triste night after night is this blend of the familiar and the unexpected. The Art Crowd alongside the parents in from out of town; the lawyers from nearby courts pressed up against the recent graduates; the soulful bowl of lentils alongside the less-expected combination of citrus wedges and shrimp. Here, you can have both, have it all.
So am I cool enough to be a part of this? Who knows, but I suspect what really matters is if you can appreciate the various elements at play here, and can take in the whole of the scene for what it is: excellent, and wholly L.A.
