Los Angeles is a miraculous place to eat.
For the tacos and sushi and pasta alone, we’re a wildly fortunate lot. Our size — our critical mass — brings the advantage of specificity. A taquero can differentiate himself by re-creating the smoky carne asada recipe passed down in his Sinaloan family. One chef finds fulfillment perfecting the Edomae-style nigiri she studied in Tokyo; another thrives on Californian liberties, dolloping caviar over tuna and slipping in a course of summer vegetables cherrypicked from the nearest farmers market. An obsessionist can revive a variation of ravioli that bleeds crimson from beets, attracting an audience of similar fanatics to feed.
The same promise holds for Korean barbecue, Lebanese flatbreads, dan dan noodles, stewed oxtails, crab curry … on and on. The possibilities lie just down the block, at the other end of the L.A. basin, in swank dining rooms, at roving trucks or weekly events or unpredictable pop-ups. Imagination and storytelling are the twin engines by which our most famous industry runs, and the same rings true for our peerless food culture.
Every year for a decade now, The Times has published its annual guide to 101 exceptional restaurants. It’s a map, and a panoramic snapshot capturing an already-blurring moment. First-timers comprise a quarter of the 2023 list. Among them are an Inglewood bistro that homes in on West African flavors, a Filipino rotisserie that doubles as a natural wine bar and a standout among our sudden surplus of shawarma options. Does a wholly unrecognizable reincarnation of last decade’s most daring Korean restaurant count as new? Check it out to decide.
Our Hall of Fame list, now numbering 33, includes 10 inductees so essential to our communities that they exist in a category that lives forever, free from a critic’s whims or rankings. I’ve also named a dozen all-time favorites for drinking wine, sake, small-batch mezcal, local craft beers and next-level tea and coffee.
It’s worth acknowledging that this has been a difficult year. Hollywood’s dual strikes halted work for thousands of Angelenos for months, a reality that affected restaurant occupancies as well, and our country is involved in a second, particularly polarizing war. Falling back on tropes about how food brings people together feels empty. But these places, nearly all of them small businesses, do nourish us in literal and larger senses. We celebrate in them, escape to them, learn more about ourselves and others in them. We break away from the algorithms, even for a few minutes, to juggle tacos and feel the sun on our faces, as only we can in Los Angeles.
