It’s taken our beloved Dodgers reaching the World Series against the Yankees today for me to finally write these words: When it comes to old rivalries in America, Los Angeles has always been the better food city than New York. Many New Yorkers remain suspended in an echo chamber of superiority that claims the best public transportation system (I’ll give them that one), restaurants and four seasons. As Angelenos, our superpower is a general indifference to our haters everywhere, powered by sunshine, our proximity to the freshest produce, and the ability to go on a mountain hike, surf and eat tacos in the same afternoon.
I’m tempted to tackle the coast-to-coast rivalry every time a New Yorker spends 48 hours in this great city and decides to gripe about an expensive smoothie or our supposed wellness-obsessed culture in yet another story that hemorrhages stereotypes about Hollywood and our toned, bronzed bodies. Now seems as good a time as any to set the record straight. About a decade ago, East Coast media, friends and complete strangers started asking me when Los Angeles became a great place to eat.
“It’s such a great food city now. Why do you think that is?” There was frequently a pettiness when an East Coaster would acknowledge something they love, with comments like: “That new place is like good — for an L.A.
restaurant. You know what I mean.” Many New York tastemakers by now have come around and acknowledge the culinary gifts we have in L.
A. But I’ll re.