This Meat Mecca Is Bringing a Little Slice of New York to LA

The guys behind the The Cannibal, a New York-based meatopia specializing in charcuterie and rare brews, have recently spread their wings by launching a bigger outpost in Los Angeles, bringing with them their signature East Coast eats and vibes. The Cannibal LA may be equal parts butcher and sandwich shop, restaurant and beer haven—but whatever you do, don't call it a "deli."

Executive chef Francis Derby (formerly of Momofuku and wd~50) says New Yorkers may identify shops that carry cured meats and sandwiches with the word "deli," but The Cannibal team sees themselves as paying homage to the old school-style butcher shop. Their new LA location is the type of place that has glass cases full of aged meats hailing from Aspen Ridge and Arkansas City farms, house-made sausages and pâtés, and salumi from their tried-and-true purveyors on the East Coast, who won't shy away from adding sriracha or a tasty beer to their cured meats.

At the butcher counter, patrons can grab a quick Italian sandwich stuffed with mortadella or a Cuban stacked with pig's head terrine. "In any good butcher and Italian store of that style, you can order a sandwich right off of the counter," Derby says. "That's kind of where this comes from."

When Derby and Cannibal owner Christian Pappanicholas were doing research before opening their restaurants, they made a point to hit up every butcher shop on Arthur Avenue in the Bronx to get the essence right. But even operating partner Cory Lane (also a Momofuku alum) admits that while he's heard people talk about the desire for a butcher shop in LA (though the city does have the likes of Belcampo and McCall's), he doesn't particularly feel like his team is planting a flag and shouting that they're the butchers. "To be honest, [the butcher shop] is something we haven't fully grown into yet," he says.

All they know is that they want to carry high-quality products, and the types of meat they sling could very well change over the next few months. They're still just getting used to the reality of—and are very giddy about—having an entire butcher shop space, full cut room, and sandwich prep area. Compared with their tiny New York venues, their new digs are massive, and they also have a bar and restaurant joined at the hip of the butcher shop.

It's impressive that the team has become so successful at their New York outposts without ever having a gas stove, which was due to hood and space limitations. "Two toaster ovens, a panini press, and a hot-hold box is pretty much how we run both stores in New York," Derby says.

In New York, they would grill quail on a panini press or run a hamachi collar through a conveyor-belt in a toaster oven. Now, with their gas stoves and wood-burning ovens in LA, the guys are just excited they can do so much more with their cooking. While they previously used a smoker in New York, the one they have in LA is much more "intense," Derby says. Whenever they're unsure of what to do with a cut of meat, they'll just leave it in the smoker for hours and see what happens.

Derby is also trying to get accustomed to using local, seasonal produce from California and stay focused at the markets. To him, it's like being a kid in a candy store as he's surrounded by mounds of artichokes, asparagus, and butternut squash. "New York has incredible produce, but the window of time that the produce is available is really small," he says, "When it's peak season in New York and you go to the market in the summer, it's insane. Here, it's just like that every day."

Despite it being a meat-centric restaurant, The Cannibal's list of vegetable plates on its menu is just as long as that of the meat dishes. The refreshing leafy salads are accompanied by juicy wedges of peaches and plums, and the charred carrots sit on bed of creamy carrot romesco. Lane doesn't want patrons to think that they can't visit The Cannibal on a regular basis and be healthy at the same time.

While there are burgers and grilled short ribs on the newest iteration of the menu, what's most striking are some of their larger dishes. Take, for instance, a very special cut of a 60-day dry-aged rib-eye that's cooked to perfection, weighing in at a whopping 96 ounces. (If you have $320 to burn, there are far worse ways to spend it.) It has multi-textured layers of crispy skin, liquified fat and fall-off-the-bone, succulent meat. You won't find this funk-driven ribeye at their New York locations.

What they are bringing from the East to the West Coast, however, is their famed General Tso's pig's head. This large-format meal is presented at the table with the entire pig's head cut into finger-long slices, fanned out and lacquered with a General Tso's-flavored glaze. The presentation is intense, and it requires a laborious process to make. The pig's head is brined in a mixture of ginger, star anise, cinnamon, salt, and sugar for two days, then slow-cooked until the meat is meltingly tender. It gets scored and blasted in the oven until the skin becomes crispy and crunchy. The sweet and sticky sauce is ladled over it, dripping into the nooks and crannies of the meat. It's paired with moo shu pancakes and a vinegary, almost-raw broccoli salad that you can fold together with the meat like little burritos.

The team never intended to transplant anything specifically New York-ish to LA; they're just trying to bring their style of cooking and love for beers to the West Coast. They have over 500 international bottles curated by their beer director and cicerone Julian Kurland.

They admit, however, that they've inadvertently brought a New York sensibility to LA. "I have had people straight up come up in here and say, 'This feels like New York when I eat in this restaurant,'" Derby says. "I don't know what it is that we do differently or what we bring to the table when I'm out in the kitchen and when [Lane's] out on the floor that makes it that way. But I guess maybe it's because we're just New Yorkers."

Lane jokes, "I think it's because we're both loud and obnoxious."

While Lane thinks it's the sense of community and regulars that they're already getting at their new joint that reminds him of New York, Derby credits the idea of communal dining with strangers. Something he'd see at his East Coast spots that he's seen already happen in LA is the idea that diners at one table may be digging into a whole pig's head and will invite guests at another table to try some chunks of meat with them. "It happens in New York all the time, especially with the larger things, and that to me…that's a cool vibe to have," Derby says. "It makes you feel like you're hanging out with all the people around you."