Los Angeles, a city so saturated with Mexican food that its culinary identity feels inseparable from the scent of lime and charred tortillas, is not a place where one expects to be surprised by seafood. And yet, Holbox—a restaurant named after a car-free island off the Yucatán Peninsula, a place so idyllic it feels like it was dreamed up by a tourism board with a vendetta against stress—manages to do exactly that. Tucked into Mercado Paloma, Holbox is less a restaurant and more a portal, one that channels the flavors of Holbox’s pristine beaches and teeming marine life straight into the heart of South L.A. The first thing you see when you walk in is the open ceviche bar, where chefs wield their knives with a precision that borders on the surgical. Whole tunas are carved up in a display that’s equal parts culinary artistry and primal spectacle, the sort of thing that makes you feel both awed and vaguely guilty for enjoying it so much.
A word of warning: since Holbox was awarded a Michelin star—a distinction that feels both deserved and slightly absurd for a place where you order at a counter and eat in a shared market space—the lines have gotten longer. Much longer. You’ll likely find yourself queuing through the parking lot, sweating under the L.A. sun and wondering if any meal is worth this kind of effort. Let me save you the mental gymnastics: it is. Once inside, you’ll place your order at the counter, then embark on the mildly chaotic ritual of finding a table in the bustling market, which is shared with multiple other restaurants. The wait staff, who somehow manage to locate you in this sea of humanity, deliver your food with an efficiency that feels almost miraculous. It’s a system that shouldn’t work but somehow does, a small miracle in a city that thrives on chaos.
Ceviche counter and fridge
Now, let’s talk about the menu, because everything on it is incredible. And by “incredible,” I mean the kind of food that makes you question why you ever eat anywhere else. You’ll have a hard time finding anything short of insanely good, which is both a blessing and a curse—a blessing because every bite feels like a revelation, and a curse because you’ll inevitably leave wishing you had room to order the entire menu twice.
Start with the Kanpachi ceviche tostada, a Mexican staple elevated to something approaching art. The ceviche here is next-level, a masterclass in balance and texture. The fish is impossibly fresh, the citrus so tart and bright it makes your mouth water just thinking about it—seriously, I’m salivating as I write this. The tostada adds a satisfying crunch, the kind that makes you want to close your eyes and just focus on the sound. You can order a single tostada to soothe a small craving, or go for a larger portion to share—or, let’s be honest, to keep for yourself. No one’s judging.
For the truly indulgent, there’s the live uni—a dish that defies easy categorization, something that exists at the intersection of luxury and primal immediacy. The uni here is so fresh it’s still alive when you order it, cracked open and cleaned to order before being placed back into its spiny shell. And when I say fresh, I mean fresh—the kind of fresh where the spines might still be twitching when it arrives at your table, a detail that’s equal parts fascinating and mildly unsettling. The uni itself is buttery smooth, impossibly decadent, and perched atop a scallop ceviche so bright and citrusy it acts as a counterpoint to the uni’s richness. A drizzle of verde crema ties it all together, a stroke of genius that elevates the dish from indulgence to pure mastery. It’s the kind of thing you order not because you’re hungry, but because you want to remember what it feels like to be alive.
The shrimp aguachiles are another entry in Holbox’s portfolio of mastery, a dish that manages to be both bright and balanced, punchy but not overwhelming. The shrimp, poached to perfection, swim in a lime sauce so good you’ll find yourself fantasizing about bottling it and drinking it straight. The heat is present but restrained, a gentle warmth rather than a fiery onslaught, which means you can actually taste the shrimp instead of just enduring the spice. It’s a reminder that great food doesn’t need to shout to be heard—it just needs to be this good.
Let’s talk tacos, because at Holbox, they’re not an afterthought—they’re a revelation. Each one comes cradled in a fresh handmade tortilla. None of these tacos fall short of excellent, and each has its own personality, its own reason to exist.
There’s the pulpo taco, tender octopus paired with refried black beans, a combination that feels both earthy and oceanic. The Baja fish taco, with its crisp cabbage and bursts of cherry tomato, is a classic done right, the kind of thing you could eat every day and never tire of. The Baja shrimp taco follows suit, with the same bright accoutrements but a different star ingredient, proving that simplicity, when executed perfectly, is anything but boring.
Then there’s the scallop taco, where the sweetness of the scallop meets the sharpness of shaved onion and the pop of cherry tomato—a trio that feels almost too good to be true. But the real standout, the one that demands your attention, is the smoked kanpachi taco. This one’s different, a departure from the rest, with its smoky fish swimming in a spicy chili oil that’s as addictive as it is intense. It’s a must-order, the kind of taco that makes you rethink what a taco can even be.
Blood clams—something I’d never encountered before, and frankly, something I didn’t even know existed until Holbox. These aren’t your average clams. They’re removed from their shells, chopped up, and mixed into a smoky salsa that’s as complex as it is bold, then placed back into their shells like some kind of culinary sleight of hand. The result is a dish that’s unapologetically intense, a pure oceanic explosion that hits your taste buds with the force of a wave crashing against rocks. It’s not for the faint of heart, but if you’re the kind of person who craves flavors that demand your full attention, this is it.
A word of caution, though: these seem to be a limited or seasonal item, the kind of thing that appears on the menu like a rare comet, only to vanish before you’ve fully processed what you’ve just eaten. If you see them, order them. They’re not just food; they’re an experience.
Finish your meal with the churros—because honestly, how could you not? Fresh, warm, and crispy, they’re the kind of dessert that feels like a hug for your soul, especially when paired with a rich chocolate sauce that’s just the right balance of sweet and bitter. It’s a simple pleasure, but sometimes simple is exactly what you need after a meal that’s been anything but.
Holbox is serving up some of the best food you can find anywhere on earth, and it’s doing so at a price that feels almost too reasonable for what you’re getting. This isn’t just a restaurant; it’s a destination, a place that demands to be experienced. If you ever find yourself in Los Angeles—or if you’re lucky enough to live nearby—make the pilgrimage here. It’s not just a meal; it’s an education, a reminder of what food can be when it’s done with care, skill, and a little bit of magic. You’ll leave not just full, but forever enlightened.
