Korean food is as essential to LA as sunshine and car chases, whether that’s banchan-filled birthday dinners, ice-cold naengmyun on hot days, or an order of galbi jjim at 3am with friends. The sheer amount of fantastic Korean restaurants—in Koreatown and beyond—might seem overwhelming, but we embrace it with open arms (and stomachs). If you’re looking for the best spots for Korean BBQ, we’ve got a dedicated guide just for that, but on this, you’ll find everything else, from bossam to knife-cut noodles to marinated crab.

THE SPOTS

Kobawoo House has been around since 1983, and while Koreatown has changed a lot, this place hasn’t. It’s still a tranquil, wood-filled restaurant that serves amazing jeon, steaming bowls of yuk gae jang, and the best bossam in the neighborhood. Each slice of Kobawoo’s boiled pork belly is half jiggly-soft pork fat, half juicy meat that breaks apart in one chomp. For such a rich cut of pig, it’s incredibly light, especially when you build ssam with salted cabbage, a dab of fermented shrimp paste, and sweet pickled radishes. Portions are huge, so come for the smaller lunch special if you’re dining solo. 

Soban is a triple threat on par with Cher or Hugh Jackman. Not only does this minimalist Koreatown restaurant have the most impressive banchan spread in town (over a dozen seasonal dishes by our count), their specialties like soy-marinated crab, spicy braised black cod, and short rib stew all are up there with the best renditions in the city. Keep in mind that Soban doesn’t serve alcohol, but they do give you a delicious fermented sweet rice drink to finish the meal. Also, this is where the cast and crew of Parasite celebrated their Oscar win.

Ham Ji Park is an always crowded spot in the heart of Koreatown on 6th Street where grilled meat is the main attraction. Unlike many tabletop grill KBBQ spots in the area, however, the two dishes you’ll find on every table are cooked in the kitchen: spicy grilled pork ribs and pork neck stew. That might seem like a lot of pork, but the sweet spiciness of the ribs complements the fragrant perilla-seasoned stew perfectly. Portion sizes for both dishes rival a wedding banquet, so bring friends, or you’ll be carrying leftovers to the bar afterward.

This galbijjim specialist has two locations in Koreatown, but if it’s the wee hours of the night and you’re with a group, head to the 24-hour location on Western. Not only will Sun Nong Dan adequately feed everyone after the bars, but few late-night dining experiences in LA compare to this one. The table huddles around massive cauldrons of their signature spicy galbijjim: braised short rib, oxtail, rice cakes, and starchy vegetables, all simmering in a thick, fire-red sauce. Order it with cheese on top, and your server blowtorches it at your table until it’s melted and bubbly. And if you’re here alone or want to put something lighter in your gut, Sun Nong Dan serves various soups, including an oxtail with brisket soup that will help with that headache tomorrow morning.

In a town full of great Korean food, Perilla stands out for its fantastic seasonal banchan. But it’s the mini meadow surrounding this Chinatown spot that transforms a quick lunch into a substantial event. Formerly a pop-up, this daytime spot in Chinatown operates out of a tiny cottage where colorful umbrellas sway over patio tables, and people walk through a garden sipping housemade yuzu soda. The dosirak boxes filled with marinated cod or spicy beef here are executed with the obsessive perfectionism of a breakup text and exactly what you want to eat during an impromptu picnic in the sunshine. 

LA is filled with tremendous traditional Korean spots, but less common are fine dining spots that add a new perspective to the cuisine. That’s why we’re thankful for Baroo. This upscale spot in the Arts District offers a never-boring,eight-course $110 tasting menu designed to be paired with their interesting list of wines and Korean spirits. Think milky makgeolli and yeast rice squares topped with ‘nduja and pichuberry, seaweed-battered skate wings, and lots of fermented vegetables. The chic, industrial aesthetic helps keep things breezy and casual. 

This bare-bones noodle shop from Seoul is famous for its garlicky house kimchi, which is so potent that the restrooms are stocked with mouthwash. Vampire-slaying banchan isn’t the only reason to come, though. The hand-cut noodles and dumplings here are excellent, and everyone in the dining room, from large groups of coworkers to solo lunchers trying to find peace, has both on their table. When it’s hot, go for the spicy, cold, chewy wheat noodles mixed with vegetables. When you need some warmth and comfort, get the kalguksu with ground chicken and steamed pork dumplings.

On any given night, with the smell of grilled skewers in the air, Dan Sung Sa can feel like the center of Koreatown. This dark, all-wood tavern is regularly jam-packed with dates, coworkers, and concertgoers looking for warm food after a show at The Wiltern. We should note that ordering alcohol is mandatory here, but that’s usually not an issue since Dan Sung Sa’s menu pairs perfectly with cold beer. The giant kimchi pancakes are extra thin and crispy, the tteokbokki with ramen comes in a sweet-spicy gochujang sauce that burns your lips, and we’ve never met a skewer here we didn’t like, including the beef short rib, sweet scallop, and cartilage-y chicken gizzard.

Mapo Galbi is a quiet restaurant on the outskirts of Koreatown where everyone orders one thing: dak galbi. A simple dish of chicken, vegetables, and rice noodles stir-fried in a spicy sauce at your table, the flavors are so intense and complex that you’ll take breaks throughout the meal to permanently ingrain this moment into your mind. Then comes the second course—which involves a heaping pile of nori-topped white rice that’s smashed onto the same grill and cooked until it’s crispy. Spoiler: it’s just as good as the first round.

Lee Ga in Koreatown is known for its chilled buckwheat noodles, mostly because they’re made fresh instead of coming out of a package. And while chewy noodles sloshing around in icy beef broth (and other spicier naengmyeon options) are absolutely a reason to come to this strip mall Korean restaurant, we enjoy the whole package here. Lee Ga’s combos come with seasonal banchan, huge, generously stuffed mandu, and marinated beef ribs that slide right off the bone. It’s an ideal meal on a hot summer day or really any day that you’re in the mood to eat well.

If you’re into blood sausage and organ meats, Eighth Street Soondae is the promised land. And if you’re not, well, this humble Koreatown restaurant might change that. As the name implies, this family-run strip mall spot serves Koreatown’s finest soondae, Korean blood sausage stuffed with rice and glass noodles. Nearly every table orders the soondae combo that easily feeds two to three carnivores, which comes with a mound of sausage, slices of poached heart, liver, and tongue, a rich beefy soup, and a handful of banchan. From there, dip your sausage in salt or salted shrimp or spicy soybean paste, or throw it into the soup with purple rice. Repeat until blissed out. 

Order the small jokbal platter at Jang Choong Dong, and you might think they made a mistake. This pile of chopped, braised pig trotters is a behemoth, but a stunning behemoth, nonetheless. The jelly-like skin glistens under the fluorescent lights and you can taste the brine in the tender pork: a little sweet, a little garlicky, and some pings of ginger in there. We suggest ordering something light on the side to strike a balance on the table, like Jang Choong Dong’s spicy cold acorn noodles that go down like a refreshing glass of ice water. 

If you want a banchan spread fit for a prince, order the barley rice set at Borit Gogae. For $30 per person—minimum two people—this Koreatown restaurant covers your table with little dishes of fried, fermented, and pickled things, like sea snails, spicy radish, mung bean pancakes, and more (we could keep going). The whole meal is DIY bibimbap with a communal pot of barley rice in the center, but the best part is the three soups included: a simple scorched rice broth, sweet pumpkin puree, and a creamy perilla seed soup that tastes like nutty chicken porridge. And somehow, after spooning up every bit of rice and soup, you’ll still walk out feeling as light and fresh as a kite in the wind.

There are lots of places to get spicy, bubbling cauldrons of soondubu in Koreatown, but Surawon is the best of them, especially since Beverly Soon Tofu is no more. They make all of their organic tofu in-house, and for $1 more, you can upgrade to black soybean tofu, which is a little nutty and super savory. Come by with someone you love on a cold night, order some soju and a couple of soondubu combos, and be sure to include a seafood kimchi pancake (here, they’re loaded with veggies and squid).

Most people come to this traditional Korean spot on 3rd Street for one thing: gukbap, a clear pork-broth soup that arrives mostly unseasoned but with a big spread of banchan like kimchi, salted shrimp, and thinly sliced pork belly that you add in to kick it up. At lunchtime, older couples and people who work nearby fill the tables in this little strip mall spot because it’s a tasty, affordable option in the neighborhood. If you’re here with a group, however, we suggest adding on an order of char-grilled spicy pork ribs and the jokbal platter with sweet mustard sauce. 

Much like The Rock (the wrestler) or L. Ron Hubbard (the sci-fi author), Master Ha started out known for one thing before becoming way more famous for another. So, while you can order a very solid bowl of ox-bone soup at this stylish Koreatown spot, the best dish here (and the one on every table) is their sweet, briny ganjang gaejang, or soy-marinated raw crab. If you’re with a group, the best move is to order a huge mound of whole crabs to crack into. Otherwise, go for the personal-sized marinated crab combo, which adds quail egg-topped rice, soy-marinated shrimp, an egg, pickles, and sheets of nori to make little crabby handrolls.

Located in the same strip mall as Sun Nong Dan, Seongbukdong is a quiet corner spot that’s also known for galbi jjim. But if the braised short rib stew is a heavy metal ballad at Sun Nong Dan, the balanced, complex version here is a smooth jazz tune (we say that as big Kenny G fans). They also make a spectacular version of nakji dolsot bibimbap, which arrives in a sizzling stone spot with little snippets of octopus, lots of sesame and gochujang, and a layer of crispy rice on the bottom (the smell and sound hit you as soon as it emerges from the kitchen).

Even on weeknights, expect this classic soup shop in Koreatown to have a small crowd gathered outside queued up for hand-cut noodle soup. The chicken kalguksu is pure cold-weather comfort, but we usually go for the spicy seafood variation, loaded with clams, mussels, crab, and shrimp in a fiery anchovy broth. It’s an enormous amount of food, but we still find room to add either their chilled noodles in sweet, icy beef broth or a platter of their signature bossam (the mini size, available during weekday lunch, is plenty for two).  

Young King is an unassuming neighborhood banquet spot that’s been serving Koreatown’s best Korean-style Chinese food since the 80s. Once you pile into the pale green booths, know that there are a few must-order staples here: jjajangmen, a.k.a noodles in a sweet-salty caramelized black bean sauce, and the tangsuyuk, light-as-air crispy fried pork with sweet and sour sauce on the side. On weekends, the room will be filled with families sharing dinner, so you might have to wait a bit, but you can walk right in on weekdays.

When the temperature in LA tops 90 degrees for three months straight, head to Yu Chun. The bare-bones diner on Olympic is known for its chilled naengmyeon with arrowroot noodles and a near-frozen beef broth that’ll refresh you like nothing else. If you end up with a brain freeze (quite possible), there’s self-serve dispensers of the same broth but hot near the kitchen. Add some kimchi dumplings and grilled kalbi to make a mini feast, and don’t neglect the nose-clearing hot mustard and vinegar on every table.

A meal at Han Bat Sul Lung Tang happens at warp speed. Before you put your jacket on the back of your chair, a waitress asks you what you want—an easy choice, considering there is basically one thing on the menu (sullungtang). Within a few minutes, a steaming bowl of cloudy white soup arrives stocked with rice noodles and long-braised beef parts  (we usually get the brisket), followed closely by the check, all before you’ve taken a bite. Don’t worry, your meal is not over—season the heavenly broth with salt, pepper, green onions, and radish kimchi, and experience why this place has been a local landmark for decades.

As much as we love nights out in Ktown, the best part about Korean drinking culture is the bar food—and Jilli serves the kind of crispy, saucy (and interesting) dishes we want while tossing back soju. This narrow sool jib in Koreatown blurs genres with creations like tteok twigim coated in gochujang and parmesan cheese and a rigatoni all kimchi vodka laced with guanciale bits. You can easily piece together a full meal at Jilli, but if you’re just stopping by for a glass of natural wine, order Chimmelier’s KFC. They double-fry their chicken so it’s moist and juicy inside and crispy-crackly outside.

From the outside, Yangban looks unapproachable. This upscale Arts District spot is dark, brooding, and expensive. But it’s also the restaurant that, for years now, has set the tone for what modern Korean-American cooking can be—i.e., fun and delicious. Yangban’s seasonal banchan is made with beautiful produce, makgeolli-marinated scallops are served on tiny toasts, and golf-ball-sized mandu are stuffed with schmaltzy matzoh. The creativity is what makes each visit to Yangban unique, but our favorite dishes are still staples that have been around for years, including their sticky soy-garlic chicken wings that single-handedly warrant a visit.

Dha Rae Ok in Koreatown specializes in duck, which you can order boiled, roasted in a clay pot, or, our favorite: smoked and eaten BBQ-style. It’s an indulgent KBBQ experience with enough juicy duck to feed three hungry adults. Around $120 gets you two rosy pink smoked breasts with a thin fat layer that melts like butter on the grill. The longer it sizzles, the more fat is rendered and caramelized, making it slice extra smoky-sweet. The rest of Daffy arrives later in a spicy duck soup with ramen and tons of green onions. It’s the kind of healthy sweat you need after putting more ducks in your mouth than a hunting dog.