Plugs — Marlee Blodgett

L.A. food, drink, and leisure recs from the La Morra co-founder + LINKS

Plugs is The Angel’s recs column. Every week, you’ll get six picks—a restaurant, a bar, a shop, an ingredient, a person, and a treat—from someone in Los Angeles who knows what they’re talking about, plus a selection of Angel-curated links. (Plugs are for paid subscribers of The Angel only; upgrade your subscription to receive all six!)

#87 is Marlee Blodgett, the co-founder of La Morra Pizzeria. Alongside Zach Swemle, her partner in business and life, Marlee runs L.A.’s beloved catering, production, pop-up, and frozen pizza company. More specifically, she leads creative direction, oversees marketing and growth, and works one-on-one with clients and brands to realize their visions. “La Morra functions as a full-service hospitality studio,” she tells me, which makes sense: Marlee grew up in restaurants. Her dad opened the eighth location of Chili’s in Boca Raton, Florida (where he met her mom, then a student picking up serving shifts) and went on to run East Coast operations for California Pizza Kitchen. In her early 20s, Marlee worked front-of-house at buzzy restaurants in New York, notably Mission Cantina and Estela, and met Zach, a chef whose resume includes Mission Chinese, Il Buco, and Pizzeria Delfina. The duo formed La Morra in 2016 during a brief stint in Charleston, then relocated to Los Angeles to grow the business into the delicious, detail-oriented, and deeply respected pizza outfit it is today. They’re getting back into restaurants soon, with a La Morra flagship on the way. Here’s Marlee with her Plugs!

---

Restaurant — RVR

I was brought into this industry as an infant, and I feel good and bad hospitality at my core. And lately, I’ve found myself disheartened by L.A. dining. The warmth that made me fall in love with restaurants feels like it’s being replaced — by rules, pretension, and the looming weight of “how hard it is to run a restaurant.” Sometimes, I leave a meal in borderline tears — usually because the care was missing.

Recently, there is one group that has gotten it right for us: Travis Lett and Co. at RVR in Venice.

On our first visit, we were offered warm towels. Our server gracefully held our hands just enough and helped us course the meal with a quiet confidence that made every dish sing. “Tear into the tempura, use your hands,” he said — and we did. Light, tangled spring-market vegetables in a perfect, delicate batter. Cocktails arrived cold and proper, in glassware that felt chosen.

I told Travis on a recent visit that we could tell he was in pursuit of perfection — and that was enough. And when a restaurant is in it, really in it, you can feel it. The minor and inevitable imperfections fade because something deeper takes their place. To me, that is the beauty of a good restaurant experience.

When we’re not making the trek to Venice, we find dining solace in our beloved neighborhood spot, Raffi’s Place, and my family’s 40-year standby (probably yours too): Houston’s.