Highland Park, Los Angeles · restaurant
Highland Park’s sourdough shrine, where the crust crackles loud enough to turn heads and the toppings know how to behave. The space is airy and unfussy, with that Eastside energy that says yes, we care deeply about fermentation. Pies come blistered and leopard-spotted from the oven, balanced enough to make you pause mid-bite and reconsider every floppy slice you’ve ever tolerated. It’s the kind of neighborhood spot where you split a bottle of natural wine, tear into a salad, and suddenly three hours have passed.