The scent hits you first – a whisper of five spice mingling with caramelized duck that stops you mid-step on North Broadway. I’ve driven three hours through LA traffic for this moment, and standing before the jade-green tiles of Firstborn, I already know it was worth every honk and curse muttered under my breath.
Firstborn isn’t just another restaurant opening – it’s chef-owner Anthony Wang’s love letter to his dual identity, written in the language of food. As the first American-born child of Chinese immigrants, Wang has created something that feels both revolutionary and deeply familiar, like a childhood memory reimagined through an adult’s understanding.
The space itself tells a story before you taste a single bite. Once home to Pok Pok and vacant since 2017, the revitalized space in Mandarin Plaza now glows with warmth. Wang worked with Carolyn Baylon Design Studio to blend subtle Chinese elements with European brasserie touches – a nod to Shanghai’s architectural fusion that feels intentional rather than gimmicky.
Where Memory Meets Mastery
I ordered the mapo tofu tartare expecting a clever name with familiar flavors. What arrived was culinary autobiography on a plate. The first bite delivered the numbing crescendo of Sichuan peppercorns that made my lips tingle like I’d kissed a light socket – intentionally. The silky tofu beneath played against hand-chopped beef with a texture so precise it could only come from someone who’s spent years obsessing over the perfect bite.
Wang connected with Mandarin Plaza landlords Martin and Scott Lee after searching extensively for the perfect location. Their deep community roots helped seal the deal for a restaurant whose name carries multiple meanings – Wang’s position in his family, the restaurant’s role in Chinatown’s evolution, and the firstborn’s responsibility to honor tradition while creating something new.
Currently open for dinner only, Wang plans to expand to lunch service with accessible prices for locals – ensuring Firstborn serves both as destination dining and neighborhood staple.
I leave with spice and caramel lingering on my tongue, already plotting my return. Some restaurants feed you; others tell you a story. The best, like Firstborn, do both – serving identity on a plate and inviting you to taste someone else’s memories while creating your own.
In a city where restaurant openings are announced with the frequency of traffic updates, Firstborn feels like it might just become a landmark. I’d brave the 405 at rush hour just for another bite of that duck. And in Los Angeles, there’s no higher praise than that—especially now, as the Los Angeles restaurant community, devastated by January wildfires, is rebuilding with renewed purpose and flavor.
