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The NoMad’s breakfast burrito is L.A.’s most slept-on brunch dish

Written by
Jordan Okun

There are days when it feels like nothing has been more written about within L.A.’s culinary confines than breakfast burritos. We’re obsessed with flour-tortilla-wrapped eggs and all the fillings, and a Google search of that obsession will lead to local list headlines like “13 You Have to Eat Before You Die,” and we agree, because god forbid you pass to the other side before tasting a Bludso’s smoked potato in a Cofax burrito. That would not be a good thing.

L.A.’s most recent one-bite-and-you’re-addicted contender is an instant classic filled with duck-fat-confited suckling pig; a cheesy chile de arbol assault on the mouth from the Mexican heavens served up by the still-relatively-new kids on the block at the NoMad. And it’s $24. Hear us out.

When Daniel Humm, Will Guidara and executive chef Chris Flint step onto the scene carrying James Beard Awards, Michelin stars and a previous spot atop the World’s 50 Best Restaurants (Eleven Madison Park currently ranks at number four), you pay attention. When a team like the NoMad’s blesses the corner of 7th and Olive with that irresistible pork, dry-aged-cheddar, pickled onions, sautéed spinach, scrambled eggs and olive-oil-smashed avocado all rolled snug in fresh-pressed flour, you can’t stop eating until all that’s left is a side salad of frisee and the memory of the most elegant—and yet still genuinely L.A.—breakfast burrito.

You’ll keep ordering it, despite the fact you won’t currently find its outrageous DNA gushed about in the food world; despite the DTLA parking woes most of us will face to experience its plancha-griddled chew; despite the fact that it’s only available during weekend brunch; despite the $24 price tag.

The NoMad’s breakfast burrito is now officially the most expensive in L.A., but much like the hours-long wait at Howlin’ Rays and the soul-crushing elusiveness of a DM response from Trudy’s Underground BBQ, its worth isn’t debatable. If there’s any justice in this world, the Saturday-and-Sunday-only burrito will be on every forthcoming food list, site and Instagram post covering such edible dream things. If there’s any justice, there’ll be a like-clockwork weekend line spilling out of a five-star hotel, because we all keep clicking and reading and searching to start our days with breakfast burritos, and this one—with its signature NoMad ratio of astronomically-good quality meets anti-gut-bust quantity—needs to be eaten.  

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