Picala might be my new favorite place for Spanish tapas in L.A.

"Wait, really?" my friend G. said after we left dinner at Picala. "They're just that kind and delightful?"

I had just told her that no one on the staff knew we were there to review; for various reasons, I was eating incognito, as it were. And yes, the entire staff of Picala is as gregarious and charming to the everyday diner as one could hope. In fact, when they found out that it was G.'s birthday, they all gathered at the door to yell "Happy birthday!" at her when she came in.

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If you think I'm starting with the service to put off delivering bad news regarding chef Luis Sierra's food, surprise! There isn't any bad news to deliver about Picala except that it isn't closer to my apartment. Although if it were, I fear I'd quickly become addicted to its chic but welcoming decor and wide array of mouth-watering, "Should we get another order?" collection of tapas.

First things first: We both ordered El Clásico martinis, which come in an adorable pitcher on a bed of ice with an assortment of garnishes, including cocktail onions and olives (some of which are stuffed with manchego). The presentation scores an A+, but the spout is so small that the actual pour took an alarming amount of time for a 5:30pm post-work cocktail. (That first cocktail should always be the speediest.)

But who could mind when our server was so funny and charming, chatting with us as she poured? Then came the real ordeal: whittling down our wish list of menu items to a manageable few. Few, in this case, is somewhat elastic because G. and I ended up ordering six and placing an advance order for paella, which takes around half an hour.

Picala is going to be destination dining for anyone who likes the best of the small stuff. The gildas we had were small, just one to an order, but the olive was in an ambrosial brine and the anchovy! The anchovy is the anchovy you always want to taste, but whatever version you've purchased falls short. Not this time! The whole thing was a potent salt-and-brine bomb in the best way.

Among the other highlights were the pan con tomate with jamón iberico, where all three individual ingredients somehow were the stars of the show and a perfect medley of acid and salt. I personally don't know why I've never before had a croquette with blue cheese (this one included cauliflower), but can I start requesting substitutions from now on wherever I go? It truly was that good.

Picala is going to be destination dining for anyone who likes the best of the small stuff.

The shaved mango salad with uni and smoked bone marrow was the closest thing to a miss that we tasted. The mango slices and uni were a bit too alike in their texture, and the dish would have welcomed a nice crunch. Am I insane for wishing it had a good sprinkling of flaky sea salt, in addition to the salt bombs we kept ordering? Probably, but I've been accused of being salty a few times before.

Pro tip: If you order the bluefin tuna crudo (and you should really order the bluefin tuna crudo), don't let anyone take the plate away until it's wiped clean, because the mojo verde is good enough to dip and swipe anything on the table into. (We polished it off with our croquettes.) Likewise, the gambas al ajillo comes with a garlic sauce so obviously delicious that it includes toast points to dip into it, along with the perfectly cooked and seasoned shrimp. God forbid another food writer ever use "melt in your mouth" to describe something, but that's truly the sensation of biting into both the shrimp and the jamón iberico. Or maybe that was just my palate adjusting to quality.

And then the chicken and chorizo paella with peppers and aioli came, and it was... fine. No, it was good! It was. But the dish arrived in its skillet (fine!), and we had to mix it all up (not fun while seated). Maybe it was only underwhelming because what came before had been so overwhelming. Maybe it was just that it was the heaviest dish we'd had that night. But both G. and I agreed that, in retrospect, we should have ordered more tapas instead of an entrée.

At this point in our journey—and after a delightful cantaloupe and olive oil-washed mezcal cocktail for me and a passion fruit and manchego-washed tequila cocktail for her, both just as funky and elevated as you assume—we were ready to call it a night and skip dessert. Then someone dropped off the dessert menus and, well, chocolate mousse with rye crumbles really sounds too good to pass up, doesn't it? So we didn't; we ordered it—we devoured it. A perfect ending, capped off with housemade cherry caramels.

For people who love restaurants and food, there's a special feeling when you walk out of a place as good as Picala. It's a little bit like a great first date, actually: You just can't wait to see them again.

Picala, 337 S La Cienega Blvd., is open for dinner Tuesday through Sunday, 5:30pm–9pm, with extended hours until 10pm on Fridays and Saturdays. For more information and to make a reservation, click here.