I live on the west side, but all the best restaurants are in exotic, far-flung locales such as "Eagle Rock" and "Highland Park." The former is the setting for the best restaurant I've been to recently called Queen St. It has a parking lot (unheard of!), which is reason enough to go, but for seafood fiends such as myself, it is truly a forensic marvel worth returning to, much like a serial killer does to the scene of their crimes.
I require you at gunpoint to get the crab fritters, oyster service, halibut crudo, and the pickled gulf shrimp salad. There also is tomato salad that sounds boring but is mind-blowing. Even though my friends went ballistic on the swordfish steaks, the grilled octopus and she-crab soup are also to die for. (I don't know where this macabre theme is coming from, I'm writing this from the Fire Island Pines...) Plus they have a giant menu of "natural wines," which is what everybody in LA pretends to love even though I prefer a cheap Prosecco because I'm a lowbrow piece of trash.
Knowing how things operate in places like LA and New York, everyone likely knows about Queen St. already, and has either hyped it to death, grown sick of it, or abandoned it already, so I'm spoiling nothing! In fact, the best time to go is actually now, since it's so over, so that it can become hot once again. The cycle accelerates faster than ever. Hurry up before the owners are revealed to be cat-killers and it gets shut down by boycotts.