The thing about LA is that you can find pretty much any cuisine here—if you’re willing to make the drive. Conversely, I don’t think the city has a true signature dish the way Chicago has pizza, Philadelphia has cheesesteaks, or Baltimore has crabcakes—though it is recognized as the birthplace of the French dip! Perhaps not surprisingly, there’s a long-standing dispute over which century-old establishment invented it, but frankly, I’m only interested in the food itself. Both places are downtown, so we started at Philippe’s near Olvera Street, a deli with communal tables, sawdust on the floor, and other touches that make it look like it’s gone unchanged for fifty years or more. And they still have coffee for 9¢ a cup!
As for the actual sandwich? I thought I’d try it bare-bones, just a “wet-style” sandwich that came pre-dipped. But I kind of liked it that way, since it retained enough of the earthy au jus to have an, I don’t know, elemental quality to it. Unflashy, sure, but you could see how the idea caught on, and the spicy house mustard gave it a light but satisfying kick on top of that.
The other claim to the French dip belongs to Cole’s, over in the Pacific Electric Building on 6th St. Like Philippe’s, it opened in 1908, but it’s a pub rather than a deli, and because Philippe’s changed locations more than once, it’s Cole’s that reigned as LA’s longest continuously operating restaurant until it closed temporarily for remodeling in 2007–2008.
The remodeling makes it look more polished (if no less retro) than Philippe’s, but how’s the dip stack up? Truthfully, even with Swiss cheese added, I found the meat flatter and less savory than Philippe’s. But what I’d come back for were the sides, both the garlic fries—so garlicky I could still taste them on my whiskers the next day—and the “atomic pickle,” with its sweet and zesty but not bitingly hot zing...
...because despite getting several extra pickle spears to go, my brothers promptly laid waste to them, then insisted we immediately head back for more. Next time, guys!
French dip investigation aside, we also checked in with some other local institutions. Take the Pig & Whistle, which hosted the first Oscars party and was namechecked in Chinatown: As much as the surrounding Hollywood neighborhood has changed over the decades, it’s stood fast, give or take a restoration, and the menu is still dominated by good old pub food...even if the glass-bottle Cokes of my prior visits are apparently a thing of the past. But no complaints about the chicken pot pie, which comes with its flaky crust cut sandwich-style so all that steamy filling can literally spill out. It may not be a traditional presentation, but it checks all the other boxes!
Then down on Sunset is a newer haunt for starving actors and struggling artists, the Griddle Café. And part of what makes it popular is the out-of-control portions—as generous as the Crème de la Crème French toast here may look with its graham cracker crust and cheesecake topping, the pancakes spill over the plate, and even a human-size appetite can make two or three extra meals out of the leftovers. Plus for a few more bucks you can get real sausages on the side, not wimpy breakfast links like most places would sell you for the same price.
And right across the street from the Griddle Café is the Hollywood installment of the Counter, a burger place where you can truly have it your way—walk in and they hand you a checklist where you can choose your meat, your bun (or lack thereof), your sauces, and your toppings. Here I went for a grilled chicken breast on a multigrain bun with Asian-leaning flavors: ginger-soy glaze, horseradish cheddar, scallions, cucumbers, and mixed greens, with fried onion strings on the side and an apple pie shake. But only because the even better churro shake wasn’t available that day.
Obviously, though, LA’s not hurting for actual Asian food. On the way to Griffith Observatory, we stopped off for a late lunch at Chi Dynasty for some good old-fashioned sesame chicken. No frills here...but then about ten seconds after my first bite, the heat of the chiles and the pungency of the sauce hit me and I drained half my soda. That’s the way to do Chinese!
Not far from Chi Dynasty is Little Armenia/Thai Town—the two overlap and blur—which is where you’ll find Jitlada, tucked away in a strip mall. They specialize in southern Thai cuisine, and while I understand mussels aren’t traditionally southern, who could resist these pretty New Zealand green mussels, served up in a light curry broth with basil and lemongrass? Mmm!
Rolling down the hill to Santa Monica Blvd., we come to Marouch, a Lebanese-Armenian eatery not far from Hollywood Forever. These are the makings for chicken shawarma with a delicious garlic sauce, but I’d be remiss if I didn't give a shout-out to the appetizers as well, especially the pickled turnips—seriously—and the yummiest hummus I’ve had to date.
Side note: This was actually my second time at Marouch (afternoon lighting screwed up the first shoot), but not only did owner Serge remember me from months earlier, he remembered which table we sat at and made sure we were away from the windows this time! A rabbit never minds a little personal attention, but that was above and beyond. Thanks, Serge!
We don’t do Ethiopian food a lot since Rob doesn’t care for injera, but once in a while he can be nagged into going to Nyala in Little Ethiopia. And it’s worth it when the doro tibs—shredded chicken in a tomato sauce flavored with a berbere spice blend and niter kibbeh butter—and green salad are this tasty. It’s just more of a challenge with paws, is all.
I’m gonna need a few more napkins in a minute.
How about giving the new mozzarella bar a try? Obikà in Century City imports its stuff straight from Italy three times a week, so it’s almost as fresh from the water buffalo’s udder as it can be. This is the smoked affumicata mozzarella with salame felino; it may not look all that filling, but one, it’s meant to be savored rather than bolted, and two, a little bite of everything—including the cherry tomatoes and greens—goes a long way, particularly with the rich, smoky flavor of the cheese. That said, next time I’m getting the stracciatella di burrata—the sweet, ricotta-like variation—next time. It’s even better!
Southwards of Obikà is an old favorite of Rob’s, Empanada’s Place in Culver City. There used to be one in West Hollywood, closer to us, but these days we suffer the mileage because we love a turnover in any language—calzones, böreks, piroshki, we’re there. And for the Argentinean empanada, this place offers nearly twenty different fillings, but when I go, I usually just stick with a basic trio of beef, chicken, and spinach (you can distinguish them by their shapes and crimpings). And then get one of each of the rest for takeout.
Further abroad, on our way back from the South Coast Botanic Garden last summer, we swung by King’s Hawaiian in Torrance—and since I couldn’t make up my mind, I wound up ordering an entire Royal Platter! This is the way to go if you prefer picking at appetizers over working through an entrée, because they’re all here: fried calamari, kalua pork nachos, teriyaki beef, mini chicken skewers, even Spam sushi! All that plus an aquarium-side view—but hey, that was a long shoot, I earned it.
Strangely, it’s hard for me to pick specific favorites among restaurants, but I suppose when it comes down to it, Oumi Sasaya in Lomita is a likely contender. It’s not just the size of their shrimp udon—the angle of the photo really belies what a huge cauldron this was—it’s that the mochi tempura turns into the chewiest dumpling in the broth and is so good that Rob and I both dreamed about it days later and had to go back at the next opportunity. And will again, undoubtedly.
When all is said and done, however, sometimes you just want something simple. And in Southern California, that typically means a trip to In-N-Out Burger. Is it the best hamburger in the world? I’ll let you know when I’ve tried them all, but in the meantime, just give me an Animal-style 3x3 with a vanilla shake and all is well.
Don’t worry, I’ve left room for the best part of any meal—dessert! You may remember that back in September I mentioned the black sesame cream puff at Patisserie Chantilly (right next to Oumi Sasaya!) as well the shave ice at Stewie’s in Glendale (now sadly closed). More recently, I stopped by West LA’s tiny Churros Caliente, and as good as their chicken panini with reggiano was, I clearly came for the fresh churros! They’re made to order and served Spanish-style here—that is, with a dipping cup of thick, creamy hot chocolate that’s a house blend of cacao beans with just enough milk and sugar to retain some subtle floral notes without making it overly sweet like everyday cocoa. And there was enough left over from dipping for one good chug!
Also fun: Tokyo Table in Arcadia, which surprised me with its massive “honey toast”—huge slices of bread that are cubed, toasted, and topped with vanilla ice cream and caramel sauce! Not very Japanese? Who cares!
But even more decadent than that? Going to the Fair Oaks Pharmacy, a soda fountain in South Pasadena that’s so old-timey that it’s literally on Route 66. Nice place to have a grilled cheese and a lime phosphate, but then it was down to business with a Banana Blitz, which seems pretty self-explanatory. I...am a lucky rabbit.
And so it goes when I dine out—nothing terribly fancy, nor does it have to be. But to be honest, looking back at everywhere I’ve been in the last year kind of makes me want to put my paws up for a bit, so maybe I’ll just order in tonight. Feel free to stick around if you want, though—what do you like on your pizza?
