Nestled betwixt Downtown (proper), the Arts District and, ahem, Skid Row, to form a misfit tetrad of walkable neighborhoods, Little Tokyo is home to your next favorite restaurant coffee shop bar spot. Est. 1886 (i.e. in LA terms, pre-historic), it’s one of few remaining US Japantowns, and the well-documented taciturn cultural pride has protected its authenticity, skewing it less tourist-trap and more Taste of Tokyo.
There’s one thing on the menu here: a plate of thinly sliced raw premium beef to be consumed by dipping momentarily in your own personal hot pot, swish-swished in ponzu sauce, placed in a bowl of rice and lifted to your drooling mouth. You get a helping of raw veggies too. Those get slow-cooked in your meat jacuzzi and help to pad the stomach with nutrients. The decor is spartan and almost haphazard, the music selection makes little sense, but somehow, it all culminates in the perfect LA eating experience. Expect to wait at least an hour, alongside people who know the meaning of this magical place.
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