Some restaurants impress me. Some I admire. Some I leave thinking, yes, that was very, very good.

And then there are the dangerous ones. The restaurants that follow me home, whose dishes randomly pop into my head weeks later. The ones that make me start plotting a return before I have even finished digesting the first visit. Kato did that.

I went in expecting an excellent dinner. Chef and co-owner Jon Yao had just won the 2025 James Beard Award for Best Chef: California. Kato would go on to win the 2026 James Beard Award for Outstanding Wine and Other Beverages Program, earn its second MICHELIN Star, and rank No. 49 on North America’s 50 Best Restaurants 2026—now part of the newly rebranded The 50. Quite the year. Those accolades certainly build expectations. But none of that explains why I’m still thinking about this dinner. As it should, the obsession started with the food.

A Menu That Could Only Belong to Jon Yao

At its core, Kato is a Taiwanese-American tasting menu, shaped by Yao’s family roots, Southern California upbringing, and a very personal way of interpreting both. It doesn’t feel like a collection of luxury ingredients arranged into a tasting menu because, well, that is what fancy restaurants are expected to do. It feels like his food.

The opening liáng miàn, inspired by cold noodles, paired kingfish crudo with sesame and cucumber. Familiar references were there, but they had been completely reconsidered. Then came yóutiáo with sea urchin, ham and caviar. Yes, uni. Yes, caviar. But neither felt like a shortcut to luxury. That distinction matters to me. Expensive ingredients alone don’t make food interesting, and Kato never seemed interested in showing off for its own sake.

No Words. All Feelings.

The trout with soured vegetables arrived with broth poured tableside. Beautiful and delicate at first glance. First bite. And then…no words, all feelings. I have not come up with anything substantially more articulate since. You know those flavors where you are forced to close your eyes and just be? This was it.

The sablefish followed, built around clam flavors and basil stir-fry. Then came the lobster with salted egg, Scotch bonnet, and lime leaf. That lobster had everything happening at once: richness, salinity, heat, citrus, sweetness. And somehow none of it fought for attention.

At a certain point I realized I was running out of synonyms for delicious. Lucky me. Not a terrible problem to have.

And Then There Was the Quail

This one deserves its own section. Máyóu Jī, Wolfe Ranch quail with date and sesame oil was the best quail dish I have ever had. I said it that night and still mean it. Smoky, nutty, savory, and deeply umami, with just enough sweetness from the date. It was one of those dishes where you immediately know future versions of the same protein will have an unfair benchmark. Sorry, quail everywhere. Kato ruined you for me.

Ryan Bailey and My New Wine Problem

Then there was the wine. Oh, the wine.

Co-owner Ryan Bailey oversees Kato’s beverage program, and the restaurant’s 2026 James Beard win for Outstanding Wine and Other Beverages Program is not one of those awards I needed explained to me after this dinner.

The pairings were one surprise after another. Not predictable trophy bottles. Not wines selected merely because a recognizable label would impress the room. Interesting wines. Wines that made me want to stop eating for a minute and ask questions.

We kicked off dinner with a 2013 R. Renaudin L’Espiègle Premier Cru. Creamy yet bright, with citrus, toasted hazelnut and chalky minerality. One of the biggest surprises was Kato’s own 2023 Savagnin bottle, in collaboration with winemaker Mike Lucia, using Cole Ranch fruit in Sonoma. Rare variety. High acid. Mineral-rich. Love at first sip? Possibly. Witchcraft? Also possible. The hold that bottle had on me was immediate. I am also the lucky owner of a bottle that now sits in my cellar. I want to share it, but I also don’t want it to end. So there it sits. It’s only available at the restaurant. What’s a gal to do? Decisions. Decisions.

Then came a 2020 Domaine Vincent Ledy Savigny-lès-Beaune Les Connardises, beautifully rich with lingering spice. A 2015 Pajé Barbaresco followed: floral, earthy, structured, savory. And then Ryan pulled out a 2001 Paul Anheuser Schlossböckelheimer Königsfels Riesling Kabinett from the Nahe. Twenty-five years old and still showing remarkable freshness and minerality. My professional assessment: AAAHHHHHH. YES, PLEASE. Listen, sometimes eloquence is overrated.

Kato currently offers both traditional and vintage wine flights, along with an alcohol-free pairing, which tells you how seriously they take the beverage side here.  The wine wasn’t an accessory to dinner. It was part of dinner.

But Wait, There’s More

Just when I thought we might be approaching the finish line, duck appeared. Was I impossibly full? Yes. Did I continue? Also yes. Shāo Wèi brought duck breast with indigenous Taiwanese mountain pepper, a sesame-crusted fried ball of duck confit and duck liver plum. Every component worked. But that duck liver plum? I may think about it forever. It had that elusive sweet-savory balance that makes you keep going back for another little taste to make sure it was as good as you thought. It was.

And because apparently dinner hadn’t done enough damage, a hot furikake milk bread course landed on the table. Late bread course? YES. Hot. Perfect. By this point, I had given up pretending to behave with restraint and ignoring my body’s request to stop eating and head back to the hotel.

The Details Matter Here

What stayed with me wasn’t only what was on the plates. Look around Kato and thoughtfulness is everywhere: The open kitchen. The ceramics—most from Ryan’s meticulously organized collection, as he explained that evening. The stemware. The vessels chosen for individual courses. Pieces displayed throughout the room. Artwork with a family connection to Yao, including works from his grandfather.  Nothing felt randomly decorative.

And then there was the service. The team seemed to glide through the room. So much happens during a tasting menu at this level. Food has to land at exactly the right moment. Wine has to follow. Plates disappear as new vessels arrive. Someone explains a dish while someone else is already anticipating what the table will need next. You can see effort at some restaurants. At Kato, I saw ease. That does not happen accidentally.

How Many Times Can I Say Perfect?

Dessert started with watermelon sherbet, light and refreshing after everything that came before it. Then peach with sticky rice. I remember looking at it and literally asking myself how many times I can claim something is perfect in one night. Apparently there was still room for one more. Then came bonito-yam tapioca balls with salty cheese foam and shaved brown butter sablé. A dream: Sweet, salty, savory, crunchy, creamy. Even the final bites refused to become an afterthought.

Why I’m Still Thinking About It

I want to return for more than checking another decorated restaurant off a list. I want that feeling again. I need that moment when the next plate arrives, and I genuinely have no idea where the menu is going. I want that pause after a bite when conversation stops. I especially want that wine I have never tried, but I will surely discover at Kato.

The morning after dinner, I thought the Kato team made an enormous amount of work look elegant and effortless. I described it as one of my favorite dinners of the year. But I undersold it. I am completely, unapologetically obsessed with Kato. And now I need to go back.

Located in: ROW DTLA

777 S Alameda St Bldg 1, Suite 114, Los Angeles, CA 90021

Phone: (213) 797-5770

Menu: katorestaurant.com