Anju

Anju works contemporary Korean food into something that reads both precise and generous. The Korean fried chicken, glazed in gochujang and barbecue sauce, is the dish everyone orders first, but the jjamppong outshines it — a thick noodle soup built on a rich, spicy seafood broth loaded with roasted clams, the kind of dish that demands loud slurping and gets it. The room backs up the ambition: exposed wood beams and vintage apricot wallpaper give a barn-inspired warmth that never feels like a theme.

Reservations are famously hard to land, and that scarcity would be an easy excuse for a kitchen to coast. This one doesn't. Service stays sharp under the pressure of full nights, and the cooking holds its edge across visits rather than trading on reputation alone.

The recognition tracks with what's on the plate. Multiple years on the James Beard list for Outstanding Restaurateur and Best Chef, and repeated Michelin selections all point at the same kitchen doing the same thing well, consistently, for years. That's the real case for Anju — not the awards, but the fact that the chicken and the jjamppong still taste like someone's still trying.