Dan Sung Sa

The Renaissance-revival exterior of Hotel Normandie is the first sign that this hotel is from another era—the era known as 1926. The hotel underwent an extensive renovation in 2010, and the result was updated guest rooms and common areas, and the restoration of a lot of the original Spanish colonial details: the heavy wood beams, fireplaces, and patterned tiles. The in-house diner, Cassell, is rightly revered for its hamburgers, and Le Comptoir, the more formal of the hotel’s two restaurants, has an intimate dining room with only ten seats. It's the genius of French Laundry alum Gary Menes (reservations are essential). After dinner, treat yourself to an after-dinner drink at the Normandie Club, a moody, dark cocktail den.

As much a neighborhood hangout as a place to spend the night, the Line is home to some of K-town’s coolest spots, all under one roof. There’s Openaire, a sun-soaked, greenhouse-inspired restaurant with Michelin-starred chef Josiah Citrin at the helm; Lobby Bar for happy hour Moscow mules and old-fashioneds; and Break Room 86 for karaoke and dancing. The guest rooms, meanwhile, are unlike anything else in LA. Imagine cement walls with bursts of bright orange on pillows and furnishings (orange is thought of as a happy color in Korea), Mexican upholstered chairs, and floor-to-ceiling windows—it’s an industrial-cool vibe with a bright, cheerful atmosphere. Book a north-facing room for cinematic views of the Hollywood Hills.

The soup known as al tang embodies so much of what we love about Korean food: hot and spicy; packed with paengi beoseot (long, delicate bunches of white mushrooms), tofu, daikon, generous heaps of fish eggs; and punched up with chili powder and garlic. The best version in Los Angeles is at A-Won, a low-key spot that also specializes in hwe dup bap (the Korean version of sashimi), which is really more like a poke bowl. It’s mixed with seaweed, watercress, sliced cucumber and carrots over rice, along with plenty of chili paste.

When Korean-American chef Roy Choi decided to go vegetarian a few years ago, he named this place as one of his go-to restaurants in K-Town for its vegetable soon tofu. It’s a spicy, bubbling stew full of squash, mushrooms, broccoli, and onions, served in a traditional Korean earthenware bowl. In a neighborhood that prides itself on its BBQ dishes, BCD Tofu acts as the perfect meeting ground for both bulgogi fans and vegans.

Part of a popular Seoul-based chain, Bon Juk is an ode to rice porridge, the ultimate Korean comfort food. Oversize photos of its various types hang on the wall, acting as a kind of communal menu, and feature popular iterations like chicken and ginseng, black sesame, and octopus and kimchi. On those rare chilly LA days, this is the place to come for a warming, satisfying—utterly Korean—meal.

Samgyetang is the Korean version of homemade chicken soup (according to folklore, a better remedy than any medicine), and Buil Samgye Tang, in a tiny strip mall space, serves the best samgyetang this side—or any side—of Seoul. The restaurant stuffs a whole chicken with fresh ginseng, sticky rice, garlic, sweet potato, green onions, and herbs. After our first bowl here, we knew we were probably ruined for any other chicken soup.

Soondae isn’t for everyone. It’s a type of Korean sausage that’s a mixture of cow’s blood, sweet potato glass noodles, ground beef, and various vegetables, sliced and served with a side of offal (tongue, liver, and heart being the most popular). Eighth Street Soondae is the king of soondae in LA, and for those who are ready to take their next step in the world of Korean cuisine, this is the place to come. Like so many spots in the neighborhood, the strip mall location and bare-bones interior aren’t much to look at, but when you come here, you’re guaranteed to try something you haven’t before.

The grilled pork belly is the thing to order here—and there eight kinds to choose from. You’ll find variations including black sesame, curry, garlic, and miso, as well as steaming bowls of kimchi stew, spicy buckwheat noodles, and stir-fries. The space is bright and airy, with a slightly industrial vibe (polished concrete floors, super high ceilings) that creates a feeling of breathing room from the smoke at other tables.

Guelaguetza is the most authentic Oaxacan food you’ll find outside of Mexico. There, we said it. And it’s all thanks to its owners, Fernando Lopez and Maria Monterrubio, who brought their family recipes with them to LA—and have been faithful to those recipes since they opened their restaurant in 1994. Today, the couple’s children run the place, but the menu remains unchanged and includes Oaxacan classics like enmoladas (black mole chicken enchiladas served with queso fresco) and salsa de carne frita (pork ribs fried in a spicy tomato sauce served with rice and beans).

Bone broth (aka sullungtang) isn’t a trend in Korean cuisine; it is a staple of everyday life—and Han Bat serves one of our favorite versions. It’s also pretty much the only thing they serve—a testament to their dedication to this one dish, which is enhanced with brisket or offal, as well as scallions and dangmyeon (thin, clear noodles made from sweet potato starch). The restaurant itself is as bare-bones as can be, but service is quick and efficient.

A hearty, rich noodle soup in chicken stock, dak kalguksu is a Korean comfort food that’s perfected at this bright, airy restaurant. The steaming bowls are flavored with garlic and onions and thickened with potatoes. Protein options include Manila clams, crab, and game hen, and each order comes with sides of radish and cabbage kimchi. Be aware that wait times can be long here, especially during cool weather, when people feel like warming up with something nourishing and hot.

Korean BBQ is most often associated with all manner and cuts of beef, but at Jae Bu Do, seafood takes over the grill. A spread of steamed lobster, giant clams, scallops, and prawns is cooked right at the table (fair warning: Your clothes will smell like smoke by the time you leave), all of it dipped in gochujang. It’s open late, making it a good spot after a night of karaoke and cocktails.

Since 1985, Kobawoo has been the place in Koreatown for bossam, a favorite of newbies to Korean food (it’s a make-your-own dish that lets you control the level of spiciness), consisting of thinly sliced pork belly wrapped in Napa cabbage leaves. There are optional additions, like kimchi, chili peppers, and pickled daikon, to mix and match until you create the perfect bite.

It's pretty special when a chef with a pedigree like Gary Menes's (Melisse, The French Laundry) foregoes opening a big white tablecloth joint in favor of something like Le Comptoir: A 10-seat restaurant where each guest sits at the counter and interacts with the chef throughout the prix-fixe meal. The intimate, memorable dinner experience takes place inside Koreatown's cozy Hotel Normandie, and rings in at a surprisingly affordable $175/person. The menu changes daily to account for seasonal produce, which Menes sources from Gladys Avenue Farm, an urban farm he founded and manages in Long Beach.

This is the gold standard of Korean BBQ in this city. The original Parks, in Seoul, is still going strong, and the LA outpost is similarly known for using prime cuts of meat (including American Wagyu and Kobe-style beef) and some of the best-quality banchan—the complimentary small dishes like kimchi, bean sprouts, and soy-brushed lotus root that arrive before your meal—you’ll ever try.

Opened in the 1920s (originally as the Windsor), the Prince is a kind of time machine you visit for the atmosphere as much as the food. The entire place is swathed in crimson, including its leather banquettes and wallpaper, with stained-glass windows and oil portraits that give it an old-school gentlemen’s club vibe. It’s no wonder the Prince is a popular film location (it appeared in the 1974 film Chinatown, as well as several episodes of Mad Men), and the food is great. The specialty is Korean-style fried chicken, and the cocktails (margaritas, kamikazes, Midori sours) aren’t anything groundbreaking but are strong and expertly made.

It’s traditionally a summertime dish in Korea, but in LA’s climate, mool naeng myun—chilled noodle soup—can be eaten any time of year. Coming to Yuchun is a truly authentic experience (you probably won’t hear English spoken by anyone, including staff), but the menu—as at so many places in K-town—is easily decipherable through clear photos and descriptions. Go with a classic, chic mui naeng myun, served with sliced beef, cucumbers, pickled zucchini, and chili paste in an almost icy broth.

Yukgaejang is a spicy, rich Korean soup made with brisket, mushrooms, bean sprouts, and scallions in bone broth, and it’s been perfected at this small, no-frills spot. The menu is limited (printed on a single laminated sheet with pictures), featuring just a few variations of yukgaejang (original, with noodles, or with tofu), as well as handmade steamed pork dumplings, pork belly with a side of kimchi, and cold buckwheat noodle soup.

Everything about this place speaks of comfort: the friendly, loyal servers; the kitschy, nautical vibe; the jazz jukebox in the corner; and the complete lack of pretense. The Bounty is a classic, dark, dive-y LA landmark that's endured despite K-town’s hipster invasion—and the prices have stayed relatively low. We don't come here for the food (although the fish and chips is solid); we come for the generous, consistent drinks. There's comfort in knowing that it's always the same every time we come. But you know what else is consistent? How far away the bathrooms are (which is: in the adjacent historic hotel, past the lobby desk, down the dark basement stairs, and next to the laundry room).

If you're looking for a bar to impress visiting friends, you have now found it. The space is as classy and refined as it is cool—dark leather chairs, painted brick, and low lighting. The drinks are, in a word: impressive. The mixologists at the Normandie Club have invented house specialties that all put a unique spin on a classic. There's also a generous selection of global liquors, including brandy, Irish whiskey, Japanese whisky, mezcal, tequila, and cider on tap. Given there's no food, this is a perfect spot for a nightcap after dinner.

Since 1986, Soopsok has been the place to belt out Top 40 hits, classic rock ballads, and current K-pop favorites in one of its twenty karaoke rooms (some of which can accommodate up to thirty people). Order a couple bottles of soju (Korea’s national drink) and some plates of spicy chicken wings and nachos, and it’ll be impossible to not have a fun night.

This lively, dive-y K-town bar is a popular spot when you’re waiting for a table at a nearby restaurant, like Quarters or Kang Ho Dong Baekjeong. But it’s also a worthy destination in itself for its soju-based cocktails (we’re partial to the mango and lychee flavors), the fun hip-hop playlist, and bar snacks like kimchi pancakes, bulgogi cabbage wraps, and scallop skewers. Sports fans can watch Lakers and Dodgers games on the big-screen TVs.

When it comes to non-cake celebratory desserts, donuts have long since eclipsed the cupcake. As evidenced by an ever-present line, the ones at California Donuts are some of fluffiest and freshest in town. The shop is open 24/7, but you have to call ahead to order their signature donut letters.

What was formerly called Gaju Marketplace has recently been remodeled into an incredibly vast food court and grocery store that’s a staple for the goop staffers who live in Koreatown. The banchan (small prepared sides like bean sprouts with sesame oil) are convenient to pick up for a light solo meal or for an impromptu dinner party. And because of the big Latino community that also lives within K-town, you’ll find the freshest avocados and papayas alongside daikon and jars of kimchi. The best part: the free, on-site, five-floor parking structure with panoramic views stretching from DTLA to Culver City.

The sea of outlets and rows of tables with plastic chairs lend this K-town spot a high school cafeteria feel, but in a way that's weirdly conducive to getting focus-heavy tasks out of the way. Order the Document Cold, a maple-syrup-spiked cold brew reminiscent of New Orleans chicory coffee. Make sure to take a breather and look around, the whitewashed space also serves as a gallery.

While there’s no dearth of ice cream shops in LA, somehow quality soft-serve is still difficult to find. Honey Mee not only fills the hole in the market but it does so in a way that’s just a little bit healthier. There are no unnecessary flavors added to make the ice cream taste like vanilla, which results in an exceptionally creamy consistency that’s slightly less sweet than the traditional stuff. What’s more, in lieu of sugary toppings there’s granola, honey oats, slivered almonds, and real honeycombs, meaning that both kids and grown-ups can get their fix without going into a full-on sugar coma. There's another outpost on Sawtelle.

Memory Look has good coffee and a big outdoor patio that’s great if you need to post up with a laptop for a while. The space doubles as the flagship store for their in-house sunglasses brand, too. The pastries are skippable; come for a matcha einspanner.

A pause in the afternoon for a cup of tea is standard in many parts of the world, but drinking anything other than an iced beverage in LA is almost an anomaly. Rose & Blanc Tea Room is an exception, bringing a dose of international tea culture to Koreatown in a hyperfeminine blush-and-white setting. The tea menu is legit—French Palais des Thés, American Harney & Sons, as well as Rose & Blanc’s own blends (the Earl Grey rooibos is our favorite). Its version of afternoon tea runs more on the sweet side than the cucumber-sandwich side—imagine delicate macaroons, scones, and waffles with lavender syrup.

This coffee shop only has a couple seats, so it’s best for grab-and-go. The strawberry milk matcha is exceptional.

The tendency to romanticize the food cooked by our grandmothers runs through every culture, and Korean culture is no exception. At Kae Sung Market, an actual grandmother, Sook Jae Cho, spends her days brining and fermenting the vegetables that make up her kimchi, famous among in-the-know neighborhood locals. Cho has been living in LA. for over forty years and started selling her homemade kimchi as a side business in the ’80s. (The mart is named for her North Korean hometown, Kae Sung.) This side hustle has turned into a full-day market, and on any given day there are up to ten kinds of kimchi on offer, including kosher and vegan-friendly varieties. The signage is entirely in Korean, so look out for the yellow storefront on the corner of St. Andrew’s Place and West Olympic, or just ask a bystander—chances are anyone you ask in the area will know how to get there.

This comic book store—hidden at the top of a strip mall stairwell—consists of two rooms of floor-to-ceiling shelves tightly packed with Korean comics, manga, and graphic novels. The difference here is that you rent—not buy—what you read, and for fifteen bucks, you’re free to browse the archive and settle into one of the comfy leather sofas for an entire day (beverages and Korean shrimp crackers included), or check out a few comics to take home, like a lending library. It’s entirely normal (and encouraged) for people to set up shop for an afternoon, their feet on the table, a stack of comics—and a refreshment—by their side.

A shop well known for its customer service (ask for Irene—she's a K-town legend), Amore is freehanded with the samples, which is both fun and necessary, as the product choices are almost endless. Take full advantage of the staff’s extensive knowledge of the hundreds of serums, masks, creams, and cleansers lining the shelves. They will closely assess your skin before diving into the recommendations. Aside from getting the correct advice for your skin type, listening to the Amore staffers describe the products—and their intimate knowledge of those hyaluronic-acid-heavy snail secretions—is like receiving an intense K-beauty tutorial.

Aritaum is a K-Town beauty mecca. High-end Korean beauty brands that can be difficult to find elsewhere (like Sulwhasoo, Mamonde, and Hanyul) are plentiful at this cosmetics and skin-care store, with their fun, kitschy packaging and unusual ingredients, like snail secretions. It also stocks a big supply of sheet masks, including a popular rubber version from Dr. Jart+ that may look vaguely horror-movie-ish when you put it on but does a good job at reducing blemishes.

This is a traditional Korean bath house, built over the city’s only natural hot springs and fueled by a 105-degree artesian well. We love to come and soak in the hot and cold therapeutic mineral-water pools, but the roster of treatments is compelling on its own. A powerful dose of AHAs and topical probiotics help clear congestion in the Pure Acne Oxygenating Facial, while the TCA Peel is enormously effective at helping to soften hyperpigmentation, support collagen, smooth lines, and brighten skin.

The thought of someone walking on your back as you lie facedown on the ground may not sound like fun, but once you’ve tried it here (and experienced the subsequent tension relief), it’s hard not to get addicted. Both the communal and private spaces are beautifully turned out, with staff giving full tours—and etiquette advice—for first-timers. After a rigorous body scrub where no patch of skin is left unbuffed, go for the intensely hydrating algae-and-green-tea body wrap. It’s rarely crowded here, which is a godsend for those looking to spend a full, uninterrupted afternoon or evening unwinding.

Fans of traditional Korean spas—kids included—tend to feel right at home here, with its clean, meditative "Jimjilbang" communal room, it's spacious, super hot saunas, and its no-nonsense massages and body scrubs. Head to the sauna, get a massage, and your nails done, too.