photo credit: Tori Time
Welcome to Perfect For, a weekly Infatuation series of ultra-specific restaurant recommendations from people around town you don't know personally, but might wish you did. Today, actress, comedy writer, and TikTok creator Delaney Rowe shares the LA spots where you’ll (probably) find the love of your life.
I’m dining with my friends last night who are engaged to each other. I’m disgustingly happy for them. When they offer to drive me home, I decline, explaining to the confused pair that I’ll be going out—that this was only stop one for the night, that being a single hipster in Los Angeles is a full-time job, and while couples are heading home, my people are, god willing, just getting started. So while your engaged friends lay in bed gossiping about you, here’s where you should go to finally meet the LOYL: Love of Your Life.
No place inspires shameless flirtation like the seductive, leathery bar at Lolo. It feels like you’re partying in your rich friend’s living room who makes their money in a really unclear way. Candles have been named after places like this. The mirrors on the wall are perfect for discreetly appraising the hotties behind you without looking like a drunken letch.
The move: eat in the courtyard and then funnel into the bar, post-dinner. It’s going to be crowded, so perch on the arm of a couch like it’s what you were born to do. Eavesdrop a bit. Your opener can be: “Hi, I’m so sorry, I couldn’t help but overhear that you ALSO hate Apple watches…” Before you know it, you’re commiserating—hipster foreplay—with a stranger you wouldn’t mind sleeping with.
The LOYL prototype here is likely into interior design and has a moleskin partially full of musings in their pocket, but is begging to be roasted for it. Enter: you.
What to order: Cacio e pepe, little gem salad, grilled prawns, and a bottle of chilled red.
Capri Club just smells like a good time. A foot in the door and you’re assaulted by the fernet, amaro, and gin swirling in the air. The semi-circle bar is full of the chicest people you’ve ever seen who are either celebrating their spontaneous courthouse wedding or convincing their reformed friend to join in one final legendary heist. This place is an excellent combination of romance and danger. It’s True Romance. It’s Buffalo ’66.
Don’t sleep on the outdoor area. This place gives good patio. Start with a sunset cocktail outside with friends to warm up the mojo, then slink inside. That’s where the LOYL will be chatting up the owner (high school friends) and enjoying the Bobby Special (an ice-cold Peroni and a Ferrari shot). They’ll also have a vintage bandana collection, but they’re so fun that you’re willing to overlook it. Is my type clear yet?
What to order: Frittatine di pasta, suppli, eggplant parmigiana, a frozen negroni, and a sour cherry spritz.
I’m drawn to this place a little too frequently because I always end up having the Best Night Of My Life. Sitting at the little round tables inside this red-hued wine bar with foggy windows, you’re no longer in LA. It feels unpretentiously European (hated that) complete with flirtatious people smoking those Cole Sprouse cigarettes outside who will let you bum one with a bit of attitude.
It’s bustling, but not uncomfortable. People are sitting on each other's laps and interacting with ease like they would at the house party you’d throw if you only had more confidence. You’re going to get kissed here by someone who has purchased a painting before.
The LOYL will be at a table with friends playing drinking games they just made up, and dryly delivering pretty good jokes. Quick, go say hi before someone else does.
What to order: It’s difficult to say with the ever-changing menu, but you can always guarantee solid charcuterie, hopefully an anchovy toast variation, and several bottles of the best skin-contact wine you’ve ever had.
Walking around this cozy, cottage-y grocery store feels like you’re in a Sally Rooney novel with all the sexual tension but none of the rage-inducing miscommunication. It’s quiet—but brimming with gourmet canned goods, oddly shaped pastas, and bizarre trinkets you didn’t know you needed.
There’s an angelic person making fresh flower arrangements, and another making biscuits and wrapping sandwiches. In fact, they might just be friendly ghosts with unfinished business who only exist in the store. The snug design has you constantly scooting by Moroccan-oil-smelling cuties with great hair who you’ll end up eating lunch with.
This LOYL has exceptional taste, is getting serious about cooking, and owns linen everything. When I stopped in to research this piece, I left with a crush. I wouldn’t lie to you. Not in this economy.
What to order: Vegan sandwich, chicken pot pie, marinated feta, a jar of the housemade pesto, and a bottle of Kolfok wine.
Canyon Coffee is a dating app come to life, minus that silo of men whose bios are “I don’t take life too seriously” followed by a bible verse. It’s the far and few good parts of a dating app, meaning the patrons show up with open minds and a willingness to banter with someone new.
I love sitting here on Sunday mornings with my single friends trying to discern whether the employees are flirting with us or if the service is just excellent. If you’re lucky enough to snag a table outside, you’ll have the time of your life surveying people’s outfits as they enter. There are many babies and dogs, but cool babies wearing Carhartt and dogs that won’t jump on you. And everyone knows that where there are babies, there are single friends of that baby’s parents looking to have a baby of their own.
The LOYL here is up early on the weekends, is trying to drink less, and probably just finished that new Rick Rubin book about creativity.
What to order: Tuna toast, almond olive oil cake, and an oat milk latte or a drip coffee with whole milk (dairy is back in a big way).