The Resy Hit List: Where In L.A. You’ll Want to Eat Right Now

You may have already seen  Silver Lake’s French-American newcomer, on your social feeds. But once you sit down for dinner, you’ll see why cameras can’t leave it alone. The restaurant lives in the Hotel Lucile, a 25-room boutique spot off Griffith Park Blvd in a restored Romanesque Revival-style church built in the 1930s, where timber-framed ceilings soar overhead and original stained glass washes the dining room in jewel-toned light. Where the pipe organs once stood, there’s now a marble bar, and beverage director Lee Zaremba sends out drinks like a toasted-coconut Sazerac and a whimsical, Old Bay-rimmed fried green tomato number. The team behind De La Nonna runs the kitchen, and the menu wanders the imagined border between the American South and the South of France: bluefin crudo, prawns swimming in Espelette-herb butter, and oysters slicked with a mignonette that shifts with the seasons.

Once upon a time, Angelenos chased Anna Sonenshein and Niki Vahle’s coveted fried fish sandwich pop-up across the city like it was a rare celestial event, but with their second permanent outpost—this time, in trendy Melrose Hill—the duo proves Little Fish is not only here to stay, but that it has more to offer than just a really good lunch. Compared to its Echo Park counterpart, Little Fish’s Melrose Hill location is more grown up: locally sourced seafood is served in a stylish bistro, where warm wood glows in the daytime and marble tabletops shine at night. While you can—and should—order that panko-encrusted icon during the day, stay for dinner, when the kitchen flexes its fine dining muscles with rotating dishes like bay scallop crudo, lobster grilled with a persimmon glaze, and pan-fried skate wing with brown butter and sauerkraut.

After nearly a decade away, Daniel Patterson—previously of two Michelin-starred Coi in San Francisco, then Alta Adams and LocoL in L.A.—returns to fine dining with Jacaranda, a $295 tasting menu restaurant in Hollywood where farm-fresh vegetables are treated with reverence usually reserved for the handling of precious jewels. The 12-course menu highlights lesser-known market rarities and plates with a playful hand: there are artichokes served three ways, soft tofu custard crowned with caviar, mushrooms layered with pâté, and a fruit dessert described simply as “anarchy.” Patterson runs the restaurant with his wife, former music journalist and indie-rock tastemaker Sarah “Ultragrrrl” Lewitinn, who is known to research guests in advance and build a soundtrack based on who’s in the 30-seat, lavender-hued dining room.

Hollywood loves a mother-daughter Cinderella story (“Freaky Friday,” “The Joy Luck Club,” etc.). ABL is no exception. Here, oysters are dusted with jerk seasoning and  plopped straight into the fryer, a single gesture that tells you much about the unique ethos of this kitchen. This is Jamaican Chinese soul cooking, courtesy of Aja and Barbara Dawson, the mother-daughter team behind Little Tokyo’s A Beautiful Life. It’s the first place in Los Angeles trying its hand at this mix of flavors, and we’re all better for it. Tables are piled high with islander egg rolls, plump with fall-apart oxtail, and the Chen pi ji wings, which drift into the neighborhood of orange chicken, scented with fragrant dried tangerine peels. You’ll want the oxtail two ways, too. The 35-seat room glows deep red, fills quickly (especially at weekend brunch), and sits along Cahuenga Blvd.

If it were up to us, we’d spend the rest of the summer in Spain: zooming around on mopeds, eating cured meats with our bare hands, swimming in the clear, blue Mediterranean. But it’s not up to us, and unfortunately, we’re stuck in a place where driving anywhere on a Friday afternoon is untenable. Times like these call for a meal at Casa Leo in Los Feliz, a handsome neighborhood Spanish bistro from chef Joshua Whigham, an alum of the José Andrés Group and Bazaar. Order the coca first: it’s an Iberian flatbread that’s quickly become a runaway hit, thanks to blistered, crisp edges, and the mountain of oyster mushrooms, caramelized onions, and salsa verde layered on top. Do that, plus a few tapas and dips, and absolutely do not skip Helen’s cheesecake, based on a top-secret family recipe.

Every so often, Boston sends Los Angeles a gift that feels like a cheat code. Dunkin’ Donuts comes to mind, as does the Red Sox’s trade for Mookie Betts. Now, Massachusetts turns over The Daily Catch, a family-owned Sicilian seafood institution that originated in Boston’s North End, and recently landed in Pasadena. Fresh seafood is flown in from New England throughout the week; pastas are enjoyed straight out of the pan. Try the lobster fra diavolo, a spicy red-sauce hit brimming with littleneck clams, shrimp, and calamari. The squid-ink “black pasta” is a wicked cult favorite: minced calamari, tossed in olive oil and parsley, and sautéed with glossy, onyx-colored linguine. You’ll find it in a quirky little space along Colorado Blvd., but even out west, the family vibe remains strong: Cocktails are named after founder Paul “The Calamari King” Fredurra’s seven sons.

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Savage Seas, the nostalgia-fueled cocktail tasting experience on the Fonda Theatre’s rooftop in Hollywood, channels the swashbuckling spirit of L.A.’s classic tiki bars. Bamboo furniture fills the room, colorful orbs glow from above, and vintage island decor—pulled from the owner’s private collection—is on full display. Welcome to Nick Oehlers’ rum-soaked fantasy, a pastiche of fading mid-century Polynesia, postwar escapism, and kitsch. Grab a seat, as Oehlers stages his intimate 90-minute cocktail tasting—an omakase of sorts—and spins the tale of tiki’s golden era across four island-inspired drinks, with nods to Don the Beachcomber, Tiki-Ti, and Trader Vic’s. Come dressed in your best vintage attire, or prepare to walk the plank.

Sushi Takeda might be one of the best kept secrets in Los Angeles. Hidden on the third floor of Little Tokyo’s Weller Court, this unruffled, unpretentious Edomae-style omakase spot is where you’ll find one of our favorite lunch deals in town: an $110 omakase special (it’s $120 on weekends). Chef Hide Takeda rewards grace rather than flash, and the sardine is his beautiful, salty star. The fish is bound to a shiso leaf and daikon shaved nearly to transparency, a perfect bite coated in a whisper of sweetness. The meal unravels before you: abalone, steamed and folded into rice until it turns to something like risotto; kelp-cured snapper; sea bream lifted with yuzu; a small bowl of uni and house-cured ikura, shimmering the color of a Santa Monica sunset. Arrive early to snag one of the coveted eight(ish) seats at the bar.

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A meal at Cobi’s is like listening to SZA’s first album, CTRL: it’s perfect for nearly every occasion. A last-minute birthday soirée with your friend who lives in Koreatown and misses the sound of waves against the shore? Cobi’s. Brunch with your slightly older cousin and his wife, who you’ve been promising to see for far too long? That sounds like a job for curry puffs and French toast spread thick with creamy, custard-like kaya jam, don’t you think? Or are you desiring a gorgeous setting among the flowers for a catch-up date with your friend, on which you will dine upon a medley of Southeast Asian classics selected by the kitchen, like rich, luxurious butter chicken and cured king salmon that arrives with scallion crème fraîche? Seems like a long way of saying it, but it’s time to book a table at Cobi’s.

You might know Adam Perry Lang. He’s the “APL” of this eponymous  new barbecue venture in Venice (and of an erstwhile Hollywood chophouse of the same name). APL, the man, the myth, is one of America’s most serious live-fire mavericks, a guy who cut his teeth at Le Cirque and Guy Savoy. In a previous life, he turned Jimmy Kimmel’s backlot into a smoke-wreathed barbecue showdown. Now you’ll find him firing up, well, the live fire on weekends at his pop-up inside Gin Rummy Bar on Washington Boulevard. This is American barbecue with a fine-dining pedigree, coaxed over cherry and oak, and the menu shifts constantly. Lately: a 36-ounce glazed rack of lamb, sweet-and-sticky pork ribs, candied smothered oxtail, and a lacquered, dry-aged duck leg confit. Here’s the drill: enter through the back parking lot, place your order between noon and 12:20 p.m., and please come on time.

Chef Tolu “Eros” Erogbogbo’s signature, the Unity Jollof, reaches your table in a smoking cauldron. There is no subtle way to serve it, and that’s fine. The tomato-stained beauty folds Senegalese, Nigerian, and Ghanaian traditions into a single pot, and doubles as a thesis statement for the night. The self-taught chef, from Benin City, now presides over communal dinners in Hollywood, where he hosts guests at two long tables. Each course carries a thread of story, amounting to a deliciously woven tale of chef Eros’s upbringing and poignant worldview. The night is a singular experience, equal parts fine dining, theater, and storytelling.

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The ceviche at San Damian serves as a stunning opener and something of a manifesto at this breezy space on Abbott Kinney. It’s similar to the one at Damian, Enrique Olvera’s celebrated restaurant in the Arts District, but here every ingredient—sweet chunks of rockfish, impeccably sliced avocado, a sharp broth of emulsified olive oil and lime juice—comes from California producers. It’s all about elegant, simple Mexican dishes and hyperlocal sourcing at San Damian, a concept that’s always lived in Olvera’s heart, but now springs to life in the sunny space that previously housed ATLA. In addition to the ceviche, order the tlayuda, layered with tuna chorizo and caracol  (sea snail—think abalone, texturally), along with something from beverage director Sebastian Tollius’s drink list of agave spirits and Mexican wines.

Two Hommés began as a pop-up from lifelong friends Marcus “Chef Mando” Yaw Johnson and Abdoulaye “Chef AB” Balde. Now, it’s an Inglewood date-night favorite, where West African cuisine meets California ingredients. On the corner of La Brea and Centinela, the dining room feels cozy yet tuned-in, with West African textiles, Ghanaian light fixtures, and comfy banquettes—and makes for an ideal pre‑SoFi (or Intuit Dome) dinner. Jollof rice functions as an anchor: a smoky, tomato-rich grain found beneath lamb chops, fried catfish, and chili garlic chicken, among other things. From there, the menu sprawls deliciously, covering sticky honey berbere chicken bites, root beer-braised short ribs, and wildly comforting garlic noodles. Order the Mezcalifornia—Espadín mezcal, cucumber juice, grapefruit syrup—which cools everything down just enough to make a second round feel like fate.

Reading the Stir Crazy menu is like getting through a David Foster Wallace novel: every fifth word, it seems, carries a footnote. But instead of long asides, these superscripts lead to the farms and producers your food came from: Shear Rock Farms, Lily’s, K & K Ranch, and easily a dozen more. Logic follows, then, that there aren’t many set-in-stone dishes at Stir Crazy. The menu keeps changing, built then rebuilt from Sunday’s haul at the Hollywood Farmers’ Market. That’s the magic. The intimate bistro on Melrose always has a new trick up its sleeve: oysters dressed in stone fruit and finger lime. Spring onion dip under a cap of trout roe. Poached chicken slicked in pearly green garlic butter. A glass of low-intervention wine alongside the food just feels right, don’t you think?

Westsiders, it seems congratulations are in order: You are living in a restaurant hot zone. Take the recent addition of Chez Mar. After years of toiling in nearby kitchens like Dudley Market and Ester’s, chef Wesley Barden opened his first solo venture, next to Little Fatty in Mar Vista. The action revolves around the raw bar, where plump oysters are shucked behind a simple counter setup. Crudos—halibut and salmon, plus whatever else is fresh—arrive almost too pretty to eat, and a très French wine list pairs nicely with the menu, which evolves into a confident run of Cal-French plates. Peak Chez Mar arrives in the form of an oyster po’ boy spread thick with cabbage slaw, or the pan-tossed Parisian gnocchi draped in sage butter.

No reservations. More info here.