The Most Underrated Restaurant in LA

A letter of endorsement.

I don’t know if I can fully stand behind the title of this newsletter. The restaurant in question, Yess, is not exactly unheralded; the Arts District space enjoys a comfortable perch on the LA Times’ 101 list, and outlets like Eater have dutifully covered its evolution since opening in spring 2023. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned from working in digital media, it’s that hyperbole gets clicks! If you’re reading this, you’ve already proven my thesis.

Given how easily we snagged a same-day reservation for 5, however, I think it’s safe to say Yess is underrated by the general public, if not by food media. (Sure, it was a Sunday in the dead week between Christmas in New Year’s, but I suspect we wouldn’t have had the same luck at Bestia up the street.) So to the extent this newsletter counts as a platform, I’m using it to extoll the virtues of a truly excellent dinner. A seasonal, ever-changing menu is all about ephemerality, but I’m hoping Yess beats the odds and becomes part of LA’s finer dining firmament for the long haul.

Silken tofu topped with salsa macha — the Japan-meets-California concept in a plate.

We’d previously visited Yess in March, and there wasn’t a single dish of overlap between that springtime meal and this winter one. Part of what prompted our return was a hypnotic Bon Appetit video depicting a day in the life of chef Junya Yamasaki and his team in the hours leading up to service. (If you aren’t hopelessly charmed by a man whose dogs are named CHANTERELLE and ARTICHOKE, you’re made of stronger stuff than I.) The video was shot in the summer, and almost none of the dishes from that dinner popped up again, either. I hope I get the chance to try the lobster tail katsu someday.

Constant change can be a controversial quality in a restaurant. I understand why diners value consistency; there’s real value in knowing you can depend on some rock-solid staples before you commit to spending a hefty, post-inflation sum of money on a nice meal out. But to my mind, part of what I’m paying for in a chef-driven establishment is creativity and innovation. If I trust the taste and technique of whoever’s at the helm, I want to be surprised. And I’m more likely to come back if I know the menu isn’t set in stone. I mentioned Bestia earlier, a pizza-and-pasta emporium that’s still firing on all cylinders over a decade into its existence. After a few visits, I both know it’ll be great and exactly what most of the menu tastes like. They certainly don’t need my business, so I’m fine ceding my hypothetical table while I explore elsewhere.

A vegan “chirashi” bowl with winter produce like sunchoke and persimmon.

Earlier that day, Hunter and I happened to spot Yamasaki at the Hollywood Farmers Market, purchasing the sunchokes used in the dish above. (The HFM is basically Coachella for people who consider chefs doing their jobs a minor celebrity sighting. I try to go most weeks.) Hyper-seasonality is easy to parody on shows like “Portlandia” or — speaking of underrated! — “Bored to Death” or “The Bear,” where Carmy demanding the menu turn over every day is used as evidence of what a controlling dick he’s become. But as a SoCal-specific riff on Japanese cuisine, the Yess version feels true to its ambitions, not overly precious.

Yess doesn’t technically do kaiseki, the produce-driven set menu that’s a staple of Japanese fine dining. (They actually used to have a prix fixe setup, even though the menu is now a la carte — always iterating!) But I do think Hunter is right in arguing its closest comparison here in LA is n/naka, even if that restaurant is about three times as expensive with the “Chef’s Table” episode to show for it. Yamasaki says he’s going for an izakaya vibe with his cooking; the airy dining room and soft-spoken staff, all sporting white robes, nonetheless feel more “serene monastery” than “noisy bar.”

The space looks cooler in natural light, but I think you get the gist.

That Yess is so pleasurable to spend time in took the edge off what ended up being a three-hour dinner. Practically the entire dining room was seated within 30 minutes of our own arrival, and thanks to the open layout, you could see the kitchen struggle to keep up with the sudden influx of orders. Honestly, I found the choppiness endearing. Yess is not a smoothly oiled machine; you can tell that it’s a small team trying their best to deliver a worthwhile experience to their customers. And when the food eventually arrived, in sporadic bursts, that’s exactly what they did.

As someone who cooks a great deal at home, it’s far too easy for simplicity to cross the line into “I could make this myself.” But there’s no way I could make a pile of sliced fruits and vegetables taste like the so-called “monk’s chirashi” above, a stupidly flavorful pile of peak-freshness roughage, or imbue some raw fish with an ever-so-smoky flavor that made the sashimi stand out from all the interchangeable crudos that clog LA-area menus like kudzu. I’m not including a photo because the one I grabbed had horrendous lighting, but just trust me.

A better photo: steamed lobster tail and vegetables with super-pungent, unpictured bagna cauda. Like a New England seafood boil, but not.

I’ll probably wait to return to Yess until the seasons change yet again. The good news is that, in the meantime, the sous chef has opened up an all-day café next door that looks like exactly what I want to eat at a slightly more everyday price point. (IRL friends: let’s go!) Yess is more of a special occasion, or at least date night, spot — one that doesn’t make grabbing a table an Olympic sport. And on the precipice of the new year, when virtuous intentions abound, it’s nice to leave sated without feeling uncomfortably stuffed.

That’s it for this week. I’m headed to New York on Wednesday, where it’s 30 degrees and I have exactly one meal on the books. If there’s anywhere I have to make time and stomach space for, you know where to find me. See you on the East Coast!