When the sky over Los Angeles turns the color of an old silver spoon and the first fat raindrops begin to fall on Halloween weekend—something that hasn’t happened in the city since 2014—there is only one reasonable response: shift into soup mode. That’s exactly what Mariana, the travel blogger behind Mariana in LA, declared as she set out to map the city’s most comforting bowls. Her timing couldn’t be better. Another rainy weekend was looming, and if you live in LA, you know that rain changes everything: traffic gets worse, umbrellas suddenly appear from nowhere, and the collective craving for something hot and brothy becomes almost primal. Mariana’s guide covers 11 of her favorite soup spots in the City of Angels, with options ranging from Vietnamese pho to the classic chicken noodle soup, and it’s the kind of list that makes you want to cancel plans, put on an oversized sweater, and eat your way through the city. She also takes a moment to acknowledge Souplantation, the beloved Southern California buffet institution that closed during the COVID-19 pandemic and broke hearts across the region. Last month came a small piece of hope: Souplantation announced its return in 2027. That’s still a few years away, but it’s enough to dream about. For now, Mariana’s list is a reminder that LA doesn’t need to wait for a buffet chain to find comfort in a bowl. Her list isn’t ranked, but she starts with a rare beef pho at Pho 87 in Chinatown that many believe is the best pho in Southern California. From there, the tour winds through San Gabriel, Koreatown, Thai Town, Gardena, Studio City, Los Feliz, Culver City, Pasadena, Venice, El Monte, Hollywood, Century City, Downtown, and Sawtelle—a true map of the city’s soup soul.
First up is Pho 87 in Chinatown, a restaurant that might not look like much from the outside but has earned a serious reputation in the pho-obsessed corners of Southern California. Mariana is quick to say that the list isn’t ranked, but she leads with this bowl because it’s the one that people argue about in the best way. Some believe it’s the best pho in the region, and after one taste, it’s easy to understand why. “It’s all about the broth!” she wrote. “It was rich, deeply aromatic, and packed with flavor, unlike anything I’d had before. It was so rich I completely forgot to add hoisin sauce. The thinly sliced rare beef cooks in the hot broth, becoming perfectly tender.” That last line is key. The whole ritual of pho is built around that moment when the server brings over a bowl of broth so hot it’s still trembling, and you carefully place the raw ribbons of beef into the liquid. They cook in seconds, turning from pink to a soft, velvet texture while the broth absorbs all the beefy goodness. The broth itself is the real achievement: simmered for hours, layered with star anise, cinnamon, charred ginger, and other aromatics, it’s the kind of broth that makes you pause a conversation just to take another sip. On a rainy night, with the windows fogged up and the sound of rain mixing with the clatter of chopsticks and spoons, this pho feels like a hug in a bowl. Mariana’s admission that she forgot the hoisin sauce says it all. When a broth is that well balanced, you don’t want to cover it up. You want to taste every single drop, and you want to keep going until the bowl is empty and there’s a warm glow in your chest that has nothing to do with the weather outside.
From Chinatown, Mariana travels to San Gabriel for what she calls her favorite chicken noodle soup in town. It comes from Chong Qing Special Noodles, a place that has a special place in Los Angeles food history because it was a favorite of the late Jonathan Gold, the longtime Los Angeles Times food critic. Gold had a gift for finding the soul of a restaurant, and his stamp of approval has long been a signal that a spot is worth the drive. Chong Qing Special Noodles is exactly that kind of place: unpretentious, focused, and absolutely committed to making noodles by hand. Mariana described the chicken noodle soup as “a dream,” and her notes make it sound like the sort of bowl you’d crave after a long day. The hand-cut noodles are fresh-tasting, with a slight irregularity that gives them personality and a satisfying chew. The chicken is tender and falls apart effortlessly, not in the dry, stringy way that chicken soup often suffers from, but in a soft, giving way that feels almost luxurious. A handful of bok choy adds a mild green freshness and a bit of crunch, while the broth is comforting and clean, the kind that leaves you feeling satisfied and nourished rather than weighed down. It’s chicken noodle soup, but it’s chicken noodle soup with intention. The noodles taste like someone stood over a floured board and cut them by hand. The chicken tastes like it was slowly cooked until it had no choice but to be tender. The broth tastes like it was made for exactly this moment. In a city with a million options, this is the bowl that makes you understand why people fall in love with simple food done right.
Koreatown appears on the list with a completely different kind of comfort: Buil Samgye Tang’s ginseng chicken soup. This is a Korean classic that feels less like a meal and more like a wellness ritual. A whole young chicken is stuffed with glutinous rice, garlic, ginseng, and sometimes jujubes, then simmered in a clear broth until the meat is so tender that it falls apart at the slightest touch. Mariana noted that the chicken is so tender “you don’t even need a fork.” That’s not an exaggeration. The meat has been cooked until it’s practically suspended in the broth, ready to be lifted with a spoon or even just a gentle push of your chopsticks. The soup is accompanied by a nice selection of banchan, the traditional Korean side dishes, including kimchi and radish, which add brightness, spice, and crunch to balance the rich, restorative soup. She also mentioned the friendly staff and the complimentary herbal tea that arrives at the end, making the whole experience feel like a visit to a very good tea house that happens to serve incredible soup. If you want to try something special, she recommends the #3 variant of the soup, which includes goji berries. Those little red berries are an excellent source of antioxidants, and they add a subtle sweetness to the broth that pairs beautifully with the earthy ginseng. It’s the kind of soup that warms you from the inside out, the kind you might order when you feel a cold coming on or after a week that left you exhausted. In Koreatown, where there are hundreds of restaurants competing for attention, Buil Samgye Tang stands out for making soup that feels like medicine in the best way.
From Korea, Mariana takes us to Thai Town, one of LA’s most vibrant neighborhoods, for a duck noodle soup that she says is an absolute dream. The restaurant is Roasted Duck by Pa Ord, a no-frills spot that Mariana is quick to say is not recommended for big groups. This is not a place for a long, boisterous birthday dinner or a big table of friends sharing small plates. It’s a place where you go for one thing: duck, made with care. The noodle soup, in particular, is the kind of bowl that stays in your memory. Mariana describes it as “an absolute dream,” with succulent duck, thin rice noodles, and thick bean sprouts coming together in an impossibly flavorful and aromatic broth. There’s something magical about that combination. The duck is rich and slightly gamey, with crispy skin if you’re lucky and meat that is deeply savory. The thin rice noodles are delicate and slurpable. The bean sprouts provide a fresh, juicy crunch that cuts through all that richness. And the broth is the glue that holds it all together—aromatic, a little sweet, a little salty, spiced with Thai herbs and maybe a touch of star anise. It tastes like it has been simmered slowly, absorbing the flavor of the duck and all the seasonings until every spoonful is packed with depth. It’s the kind of soup that makes you want to use a spoon and chopsticks at the same time, alternating between sipping broth and chasing noodles and pieces of duck. The restaurant may be small and unglamorous, but that’s part of its charm. You’re not there for the décor. You’re there for the dream, and the dream is served in a bowl.
The rest of Mariana’s list reads like a love letter to LA’s extraordinary soup culture. In Gardena, Otafuku offers a Japanese Plum “Ume” Soup, a tart and slightly salty bowl that gets its character from pickled plums. If you’ve ever had umeboshi, you know the punch they pack: sour, salty, and deeply savory, with a flavor that wakes up your taste buds and clears out your sinuses. It’s a great choice for anyone who wants something lighter but still warming. Kismet Rotisserie, with locations in Studio City, Los Feliz, Culver City, and Pasadena, brings a modern rotisserie take on chicken soup; because the chicken is roasted before it goes into the soup, the broth gets an extra layer of smoky, caramelized depth that makes it feel both familiar and new. Gjusta in Venice serves a Chicken Dumpling Soup that is rustic and handmade, with tender dumplings that soak up the broth and give you something to chew on between sips. Corner Beef Noodle House in El Monte is exactly what it sounds like: a no-nonsense spot for a hearty beef noodle soup, with rich, beefy broth and noodles that fill you up. Heng Heng Chicken Rice in Thai Town earns a second Thai Town spot for its chicken noodle soup, which is simple, clear, and restorative. Lentil Soup from Panini Kabob Grill—with locations in Hollywood, Century City, and Downtown LA—is the vegan-friendly option that proves soup doesn’t need meat to be satisfying; it’s earthy, smooth, and comforting in a way that almost feels like a hug. And in Sawtelle, Torisoba Sumiya rounds out the list with a Japanese BBQ Chicken Ramen, a bowl that combines smoky, charred chicken with the deep umami of ramen broth. It’s a fitting end for a list that spans pho, samgye-tang, duck noodle soup, plums, dumplings, lentils, and ramen. There is no single definition of soup, and that’s the point. Soup can be delicate or intense, pale and brothy or dark and rich. It can be made with chicken, beef, duck, pork, vegetables, rice, noodles, or all of the above. What ties it all together is the feeling it gives you on a rainy evening. As another wet weekend descends on Los Angeles, Mariana’s guide is a reminder that comfort is never far away. You just have to pick a neighborhood, walk into a restaurant, and order the bowl. By the time you’re done, the rain outside might still be falling, but you’ll be warm, full, and grateful for the strange, wonderful city that turns soup mode into a way of life.
