“I just wanted to do it because otherwise, it could be the greatest regret of my life.” At 43 years old, Kwang Uh didn’t want to wait until it was too late to reopen Baroo, the restaurant of his dreams. After settling down with his wife and now-business partner, Mina Park, the brilliant, world-trained South Korean chef knew he wanted to revive his beloved and well-regarded East Hollywood strip mall concept. From 2015 to 2018, Baroo wowed critics and budget-minded diners alike with inexpensive, otherworldly grain bowls, kombucha and other fermentation-driven recipes loosely inspired by Korean Buddhist cuisine. In 2019, the couple briefly revived Baroo inside a now-closed swap meet with a pared-down menu. Finally, last fall, they unveiled the newest version of Baroo, a polished restaurant in the Arts District serving an entry-level tasting menu ($110) with excellent soju cocktails and an interesting nonalcoholic kombucha pairing ($45).
In the four years between the short-lived and current iterations of Baroo, the pair had a child, survived a global pandemic and opened Shiku, a more traditional Korean lunchbox stall in Grand Central Market. The first time I had a bite of Uh’s food, I had picked up takeout from Shiku, reveling in the finer details of the kimchi corn—a crossover special from Baroo—and the delightful deep-fried mushroom dosirak. Unlike many other professional food writers in Los Angeles, I didn’t start my career in the era of chasing down Kogi on Twitter or flocking to the latest hottest place on ChowHound. Which is to say, I never visited the OG Baroo, so the new Baroo is the only one I've ever known. My first impressions last September were arguably a little lukewarm. I left hungry, the worst thing that can happen after one has spent nearly $150 after tax and tip on a tasting menu.
A second visit this spring proved, however, that the restaurants, like people, can change. After nine months in business, Baroo has come into its own as a quietly compelling, vegan-friendly upscale dining destination—and yes, you’re now likely to leave the Arts District restaurant actually satiated, since Uh has modified portions. While it’s true that the immediate vicinity offers slightly splashier upscale eateries like Camphor and Bavel, Uh and Park’s restaurant offers a calmer, equally worthy fine dining experience. That being said, I’d still recommend Baroo largely for more seasoned diners familiar with the tasting menu format and the high prices and smaller portions that come with them. The restaurant does distinguish itself, however, with its plant-based tasting menus, and I consider its vegan option to be one of the best examples of vegan fine dining in L.A.
This doesn’t surprise me. From the beginning, Uh has taken inspiration from Korean Buddhist temple cuisine, which traditionally eschews most animal products. Vegetables receive just as much focus at Baroo as meat and seafood, and the courses of the menu are named after different stages of the Buddhist view of the human life cycle, from “tae” (a period before birth) to “jeol,” or rebirth. Five nights a week, the polished dining room lights up with well-trained servers meting out a thoughtful, carefully paced tasting menu that, aside from a few ingredients and small tweaks here and there, has remained largely unchanged since the restaurant opened last fall. (In an interview, Uh and Park mentioned they have a new menu overhaul planned at some point, but that’s not likely to happen until sometime this late summer or early fall.)
Across both my visits, early bites like Hokkaido scallop topped with minari (water celery), gim (dried seaweed) and puffed rice and lightly battered deep-fried fish, pajeon-style, offer a wealth of delicate flavors with direct, but still loose, connections to traditional Korean cuisine. This is not the in-your-face nature of Yangban or the boldly spicy, sweet flavors of your garden-variety mom-and-pop restaurant in Koreatown. Baroo is something else entirely, and while it might not hit its mark with everyone, the uniqueness of the cuisine is still worthy of your time and money if you know what you’re getting yourself into. Beverage director Jason Lee’s alcoholic cocktails are great as well, though I found the nonalcoholic pairing, which consisted of different kombuchas, to be middling compared to those offered at Kato and even Providence. I’ve yet to try the wine and sool (a catchall Korean phrase for soju, makgeolli and other alcoholic beverages) pairings. These elements all further place Baroo squarely within L.A.’s fine dining echelons, and though Uh and Lee can definitely hold their own against other fine dining heavyweights, I still don’t think of Baroo as an absolute must-try expensive restaurant in L.A.
Unless you’re vegan, that is. On the two plant-based menus (Baroo offers both vegan and vegetarian options), the star of the show is the bansang, a collection of different types of prepared vegetables in tiny bowls served alongside a bowl of rice. Hearty and full of pleasurable textures and flavors, the colorful bansang was easily the highlight of my meal—even after a server dropped a complimentary rib eye supplement on the table. Uh’s ingredient swaps are deliciously considered, from fermented moo (radish) and a gooseberry on top of black sesame bread in place of ’nduja and Gouda cheese to smoked hearts of palm in lieu of Hokkaido scallop. The only course that falters in the vegan tasting menu might be dessert, when Uh removes the goguma doenjang ice cream from the icy bingsoo topped with caramelized pecans and doesn’t add anything else to compensate.
As someone who never visited OG Baroo, my view of the new Baroo isn’t undermined by a wistful, gauzy sense of nostalgia for an era of L.A. dining and food blogging culture that no longer exists. Jonathan Gold is gone, Obama isn’t president anymore and the pandemic, resultant inflation and rising costs of labor have made it harder to run a restaurant than ever. Today, I judge the restaurant purely off what Uh and Park are offering now—and what they’re offering is indeed special, even if it’s not for everyone.
The vibe: Stylish but casual.
The food: Regular, vegan and vegetarian tasting menus offering fine dining loosely inspired by Korean Buddhist cuisine.
The drink: Soju, sake, makgeolli, wine, beer, tea and coffee, plus wine ($65), sool ($50) and nonalcoholic beverage ($40) pairings.
Time Out tip: You can park in the apartment complex—the restaurant offers validation.