Is there somewhere I should take my mom for her birthday that’s like trendy but also comfortable and not too expensive and maybe within 10 miles of downtown L.A.?
My DMs are full of people I’ve never met, who treat me like their personal Yelp. It’s an occupational hazard that I have accepted after years of writing about L.A. restaurants. The answer, lately, to all restaurant recommendation questions, is Henrietta.
It occupies the corner of Glendale Avenue and a 500-foot-long stretch of asphalt known as Pizarro Street, on the same Echo Park block that’s become a budding restaurant row. While the sun is shining, it’s a deli and market, with sandwiches that have already captured the hearts of those inclined to drive across town for stuff between bread. An Italian sub with a one-track mind trained on spicy capicola. A broccolini-filled panini with romesco, sweet dates and smoky cheddar. In lieu of fries, a mountain of crispy and creamy, smashed potatoes smothered in garlic aioli, buried under a snow storm of Parmesan cheese.
When the lights dim, Henrietta becomes a cozy eight-table bistro with a concise menu of familiar dishes you’re likely to find at dozens of other restaurants: beef tartare, a half-chicken, rigatoni, all served on quaint, mismatched dishware that looks like someone got up early to scour the good vendors at the Rose Bowl flea market . Only Henrietta is doing them better, in a comfortable, neutral-toned room that feels like a first, second, and 30th date kind of place…