Historic – The Saboscrivner

Pann’s (Los Angeles)

It has been a while since I visited the legendary diner Pann’s (https://www.panns.com/), a Los Angeles mainstay located at 6710 La Tijera Blvd in the Westchester neighborhood, not too far from Inglewood, Ladera Heights, and LAX. Pann’s is a beautiful example of Googie architecture, a “space-age” style that proliferated in L.A. in the mid-20th Century. The Pann’s restaurant building and its iconic neon sign were designed by architects Eldon Davis and Helen Liu Fong, and the restaurant opened in 1958. Think of The Jetsons, or diners and gas stations from the 1950s and early ’60s, and you’ll see it. A previous Saboscrivner review subject, Bob’s Big Boy in Burbank, is another Googie time capsule still going strong today. Here’s a good blog article about the history of both Pann’s and its Googie style, and another shorter piece from the Los Angeles Conservancy organization. One of my favorite culinary websites, Eater, listed Pann’s on its 38 Essential L.A. Restaurants, and Los Angeles Magazine wrote about Pann’s in its piece A Love Letter to L.A.’s Eternally Charming Diners and Coffee Shops.

Anyway, I went to Pann’s with my friend and former supervisor for a late lunch/early dinner before an All Elite Wrestling event at the Kia Center in L.A., so AEW fans can figure out how long ago this was. There are plenty of comfy padded booths and seats along the counter, and we grabbed two of those seats. As long as I’m not out dining with my wife, who has back problems (hence my quest for booths at most local restaurants), I usually enjoy sitting at a counter or bar to eat.

My friend is a fried chicken connoisseur, so he ordered this two-piece fried chicken dinner with mashed potatoes and gravy and collard greens. I didn’t try any of it (not my place to do so), but he seemed to love it.

As hard as I try to not drink my calories, I am a sucker for lemonade, and I couldn’t resist a “home made drink” called a watermelon cooler. It was so sweet and fruity and refreshing, kind of like a Mexican agua fresca or “melonade.” It totally hit the spot, and I appreciated the free refills.

There was so much I wanted to try on Pann’s menu! I love a good diner, and Orlando really isn’t a diner city. But I was full from another good restaurant meal earlier that day (which I still have yet to review), and I didn’t want to feel bloated and uncomfortable heading into a wrestling show that promised to be over four hours long. I didn’t even order Pann’s onion rings, and my longtime readers know I like to try onion rings anywhere and everywhere!

Instead, I played it safe and stuck to breakfast food. I got a hotcake plate with a stack of three pancakes, two eggs fried over-medium, and beef hot links (sausages). It was all so delicious. I rarely order breakfast food anywhere unless I’m at my beloved Waffle House, but this was a wise choice, even with the siren song of fried chicken or catfish or a patty melt. The pancakes were so fluffy; they might have been the best pancakes I’ve ever had. The beef hot links were great too. I figured it would have more flavor and be more interesting overall than the pork sausage patties that were also an option, and I’m sure I made the best possible choice. They were pleasantly spicy (not overly so), and had a nice coarsely ground texture.I am the biggest Twin Peaks fan I know, and I always think of breakfast-loving Special Agent Dale Cooper’s line, “Nothing beats the taste sensation when maple syrup collides with ham.” While a ham steak was yet another option I passed up on Pann’s menu, do you think I enjoyed the warm syrup coming into contact with the spicy beef sausage? You’d better believe it!

Pann’s is certainly not haute cuisine by any metric, but that has never been my thing. I loved it, and I was so glad we fit it into one of my L.A. work trips. I love a good diner, I’m a sucker for the Googie architecture style, and it was a perfect meal on our way to a memorable evening of choreographed violence. One thing I love about L.A. is how much history and character so many restaurants have (like Bob’s Big Boy, Langer’s Deli, Philippe the Original, The Prince, Genghis Cohen, HMS Bounty, and others I haven’t even reviewed yet), especially compared to living in Orlando, a much younger city. Pann’s is the perfect example of history and character, but it doesn’t coast on its reputation at all. The food they serve is a testament to why it has lasted so many decades.

HMS Bounty (Los Angeles)

HMS Bounty (http://www.thehmsbounty.com/) is a beloved dive bar in Los Angeles’ vibrant Koreatown. Named after a British ship where sailors staged an infamous mutiny (you may have seen the 1962 movie Mutiny on the Bounty with Marlon Brando), the bar is nautical-themed, but not in a cheesy way. Just don’t let “dive bar” dissuade you, because it’s a cool, dark room with a lot of character (dig those red leather booths, one of my favorite bits of recurring decor in L.A. dining and drinking establishments), history (it opened in 1962 — the year that movie came out! — on the ground floor of an apartment building dating back to 1924), and most importantly, super-solid food.

Before my L.A. work trips, I often consult websites like Eater for recommendations, and they listed HMS Bounty on their lists of The 38 Best Restaurants in Los Angeles (as of this writing, I’ve been to four), 20 Classic Los Angeles Restaurants Every Angeleno Must Try (five so far!), and The Best Dive Bars in Los Angeles. The restaurant was even a filming location in season 1, episode 11 of Mad Men (a fantastic show I loved), where Elisabeth Moss’ audience point-of-view character Peggy Olson went on a date to a seafood restaurant, “La Trombetta.” Season 1 was set in 1962, so the vibes were perfect, like everything else on that show. A different season 1 episode of Mad Men filmed at The Prince, another classic Koreatown restaurant with similar vibes and decor (and surprisingly good Korean food), so they were pros at capturing L.A.’s enduring old-school cool and making it stand in for early ’60s New York City.

After teaching an evening class on one of my L.A. visits, some students invited me out to dinner with them, and I was so honored, of course I agreed. We walked to HMS Bounty (which was their idea, not mine) and proceeded to share several plates while chatting and decompressing from the school day.

Fried calamari was on point, with a nice, light breading and a tender texture. No rubber bands of squid here! I think the sauce turned out to be cocktail sauce rather than marinara, which surprised me in the moment.

As my longtime readers know (the couple dozen of you), I will order onion rings anywhere and everywhere they are available. These were really good, with a completely different kind of batter than the calamari that was crispy, stayed on, and the rings weren’t too thick or too thin. It was a generous portion for $6. RING THE ALARM!

I was blown away by these thick, meaty, tender, well-seasoned hot wings, which were mildly hot, if anything. I’ve written before about my contempt for tiny, dry, crunchy sports bar-style wings, but these were the complete opposite. They were honestly in the Top Ten wings I’ve ever had anywhere.

I don’t think I ever got a piece of fish from this fish and chips platter, and I might have grabbed a single fry, just for the experience of it all. The menu said all entrees (including these fish and chips) were served with mashed potatoes and vegetables, but I honestly don’t remember if they arrived on a separate plate or not. If not, nobody noticed or complained.

But because I always study menus in advance, this is what I really wanted to try: sautéed sand dabs, a kind of fish that I’ve never seen on any menus in a lifetime in Florida, but I’ve already been to two restaurants in Los Angeles that serve them (both old-school places, if that makes a difference). I will review the other one at some point in the future, because I’d still love to return there.
How often do you get to taste a completely new, unfamiliar fish, especially by the time you hit your 40s? These sand dabs were mild and tender (definitely not a “fishy”-tasting fish), probably lightly dredged in seasoned flour. I was so happy to try an all-new, all-different fish! By the way, sand dabs are a flat-bodied fish related to the flounder.

The one thing we didn’t order that we probably should have was the “famous baseball steak,” which the Eater writeups had mentioned. But there was plenty of food to go around, and nobody left hungry or disappointed.

This group of brilliant, ambitious, warm, welcoming students that invited me out was all about sharing food (although I think I was the most interested in the onion rings and sand dabs) and spirited conversation. It was a delightful dinner with even better company, and I was so honored to be there for multiple reasons. I mean, most of my readers have been students at one point or another, but how often have you ever wanted to hang out with your teachers or professors socially? Has that ever happened?

I can’t imaging too many L.A. tourists making a special trip to HMS Bounty (but if you do, more power to ya!), but it is definitely a place that locals should pop into at least once. With all that history, timeless cool vibes, and much better food than one might expect, it would be worth checking it off your lists. And as I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized I really like dark dining rooms, even if I sometimes need reading glasses to make out the menu. That lovely dinner felt like I was transported to a different time and place, if only temporarily, and that’s what a really nice restaurant experience should be able to do.

Art’s Sandwich Shop

Art’s Sandwich Shop (https://artssandwichshop.com/) is another local legend — a family-owned restaurant that opened in 1972. As far as I’m concerned, that makes it a historic restaurant here in Orlando. When I recently visited its Orange Blossom Trail stand-alone building, it looked like very little has changed in the 50+ years since it opened, and I mean that in a good way — see also other venerable sandwich institutions like Beefy King and Gabriel’s Subs.

Longtime readers, the stalwart Saboscrivnerinos, know I will order an Italian sub wherever they are available. Art’s version is called the Stinger, and it comes with genoa salami, ham, capicola, provolone cheese, lettuce, tomato, onion, and vinaigrette dressing on a lightly toasted white sub roll.

It’s not the biggest or the fanciest Italian sub, but it really hit the spot. I liked how the roll was soft yet crispy from being toasted, along with the additional crunch of the shredded iceberg lettuce and onions, and the tangy sweetness of the dressing tying it all together and acting as a “sandwich lubricant.”

They offer homemade chili, which is something else I always feel obligated to try anytime I see it on a menu. Everyone’s version of chili is different, and as far as I’m concerned, there is something unique about every cup, bowl, or pot of chili that makes it worth sampling. Shredded cheese was a 50-cent upcharge, a no-brainer as far as I was concerned. It was a good, basic chili, the kind you might whip up on a cold day with some ground beef and stuff in your pantry and spice drawer, and there isn’t anything wrong with that!

I’m also a sucker for pasta salad, and I was surprised that Art’s pasta salad uses linguini noodles rather than something like elbows or twists, tossed in the same tangy-sweet Italian dressing with fresh diced tomatoes. That’s honestly a first for me.

I also ordered the cheesesteak, with thin-sliced (“flaked”) sirloin steak cooked on the flattop grill with onions and Art’s own special seasoning (I have no idea what the special seasoning is). I asked for grilled onions and hot peppers to be added on (they use banana peppers), and I enjoyed this one back at home.

I heated it up in the toaster oven, and it was tasty.

I still give the award to Cavo’s Bar & Kitchen and John and John’s – A Pizza Shop for serving the best Philly cheesesteak in Orlando (same sandwich, same owners), and I will go to bat for the non-traditional cheesesteak at the aforementioned Gabriel’s Subs, since it tastes like a White Castle or Krystal slider. But Art’s is such a classic, I’m still glad I tried it.

Art’s Sandwich Shop is so far out of the way for me, it took a special trip just to try it, but I’m glad I finally did, especially after 20+ years living in Orlando. It’s amazing to me how it has stayed in business in the mostly industrial area it’s in, without much of a “cool factor” to bring in diners from elsewhere in the city. But I think it’s the lack of a cool factor that makes Art’s cool. It’s completely unpretentious, old-school, and I’m sure they’re making everything the same exact way they always have. That kind of consistency is rare, and I’m sure their loyal fanbase appreciates them for it. Art’s is definitely one of those “if you know, you know” kind of restaurants, and now I know! (And knowing is half the battle.)

Bob’s Big Boy (Los Angeles)

Bob’s Big Boy (https://bobs.net/) is a legendary diner in Burbank, California, a Los Angeles suburb near the Warner Brothers and Disney studios. First opened in 1949, Bob’s Big Boy is an iconic building designed by architect Wayne McAllister in the retro-futuristic “Googie” style that is virtually unknown here in Florida, but so popular in mid-20th Century L.A. diners, coffee shops, and gas stations. Think of The Jetsons, or anything referred to as “space-age” or “atomic age,” back when the future seemed bright and exciting, guided by trust in science and faith in exploration. I love that style for its timeless quality, while simultaneously being totally of its time (and of course before my time).

Bob’s Big Boy is named for its founder, Bob Wian, and for Richard Woodruff, a six-year-old boy who did odd jobs around the diner, who Bob called “Big Boy.” The familiar restaurant mascot was inspired by Woodruff — a friendly corporate logo based on a heartwarming tale of child labor.

Inside, it looks like a classic mid-century coffee shop with a long counter surrounding the open kitchen, plus plenty of cushy booths along the side and in the back. They have kept the restaurant looking clean and welcoming over the decades, which isn’t always the case at some of these old-school L.A. eateries.

The Burbank location was the first of what would become a nationwide chain, but now there are random, assorted Big Boy restaurants scattered around the country. My wife assures me there even used to be one in Orlando, but I was never aware of any in Miami, growing up down there in the ’80s.

But you can’t eat architecture or vibes, so what brought me way out of my way to this old-timey diner on my most recent work trip to L.A., a city renowned for excellent restaurants of all styles and price points? I was paying homage to one of my all-time favorite creative individuals, the late, great filmmaker/writer/actor/musician/visual artist David Lynch, who passed away on January 16, 2025, four days shy of his 79th birthday.

Lynch might be best known as the co-creator of the beloved television series Twin Peaks, which ran for two seasons from 1990 to 1991, got a bizarre movie prequel (Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me) in 1992, and then returned in 2017 for a magnificent third season in 2017, reintroducing the surviving cast members, all of whom had aged considerably in the intervening years, alongside the man who dreamed it all up. Twin Peaks, which combines a quirky small-town dramedy and a dark, twisty murder mystery is not for everyone, but it is near and dear to my heart. He also wrote and directed the films Eraserhead, The Elephant Man, Dune (the first one, natch), Blue Velvet, Wild at Heart (an underrated classic with one of the greatest Nicolas Cage performances), The Straight Story (a rare G-rated Lynch movie that you can watch with your entire family), Lost Highway, Mulholland Drive (another one of my all-time favorite movies), and Inland Empire.

For many years, Lynch was a regular at the Bob’s Big Boy in Burbank, and he did so much writing over black coffee, chocolate milkshakes, and plates of fries. The Bob’s Big Boy website even has a special Hall of Fame page for David Lynch, detailing his typical lunch order and explaining that as a creature of habit, he always liked to eat right at 2:30. It quotes his book Catching the Big Fish: “I used to go to Bob’s Big Boy restaurant just about every day from the mid-seventies until the early eighties. I’d have a milk shake and sit and think. There’s a safety in thinking in a diner. You can have your coffee or your milk shake, and you can go off into strange dark areas, and always come back to the safety of the diner.”

This was my first work trip to L.A. since Lynch had passed away, and I wanted to see where the magic had happened, to enjoy a meal in this humble diner he loved so much, that fueled his nonstop (and often nightmarish) creativity — maybe to feel a bit of the inspiration he felt. Bob’s Big Boy was my last stop before going to the airport and heading home, and thanks to some lucky timing, I was able to have my lunch at 2:30 as well.

Unfortunately, I didn’t order Lynch’s lunch. I am not a coffee drinker — it usually hits me hard, hours after drinking it, with a wave of intense acid reflux and the feeling of my heart wanting to jackhammer its way out of my body through my ribcage and fly around the room. It is not a pleasant feeling, and that was the last thing I needed before a red-eye flight home. Instead, I got a strawberry lemonade that was light and refreshing, with plenty of freshly sliced strawberries and that good kind of crushed ice.

A few things on the menu tempted me, but since this was my first visit to Bob’s Big Boy, and possibly my only visit ever, I went with a classic order: the “Original” Big Boy combo: their original Double-Deck hamburger with fries and a side salad. The salad came out first. My very kind server Rachael told me they are famous for their bleu cheese and ranch dressings, so I went with bleu cheese, a dressing I almost never get on a salad. The salad was fine (iceberg lettuce, cucumbers, finely shredded cheddar cheese, and really firm croutons), but the bleu cheese dressing elevated it to something better than the sum of its parts.

I knew what to expect from the Original Double-Deck burger, but I was still a little surprised when it came out. It had two burger patties with top, middle, and bottom sesame seed buns, cheese, lettuce, mayo and “special red relish.” If that sounds mostly familiar, it’s because most of us have eaten a McDonald’s Big Mac at some point in our lives, or at least seen one or heard about them. I did a bit of research, and it turns out the Big Mac was introduced by a McDonald’s franchisee in Pittsburgh in 1967 and became a nationwide product in 1968. The franchisee, Michael James “Jim” Delligatti, used to manage a Big Boy, and that three-bun wonder surely made an impression on him, enough to rip it off.

That said, the red relish was delightfully tangy and zippy — kind of similar to Wickles Spicy Red Sandwich Spread (which includes jalapeño peppers and cucumbers), but not as spicy. I probably would have preferred a chili cheeseburger (which old-school L.A. restaurants call a chili size), but I had to try the original, and it was what it was.

I know David Lynch appreciated his fries, especially at Bob’s Big Boy, but I can never settle for fries when onion rings are an option. RING THE ALARM! For a slight upcharge, I got onion rings in my combo, and they were okay. These are breaded, and I always prefer battered onion rings. But luckily for me and my readers (and unluckily for my body), I had better onion rings at two different restaurants on this same L.A. trip.

Rachael was sweet and kind enough to bring me little dipping cups of bleu cheese and ranch dressing to dip my onion rings, and the ranch was as good as the bleu cheese, if not better. I never get ranch as a salad dressing or a dip, but maybe I would if all ranch was this good! If you live out west, they actually sell Bob’s salad dressings at supermarkets, you lucky ducks.

Usually I like ketchup on burgers and onion rings, but I never even touched the ketchup at this meal, wanting to sample everything in its purest form.

Even though David Lynch favored chocolate milkshakes at Bob’s Big Boy, I know he was also very fond of pie. The Double R Diner on Twin Peaks was famous for its cherry pie (and its gorgeous waitresses, always beset by dangerous, desperate men), but I noticed that fresh strawberry pie is a seasonal special on the Bob’s menu, and that sounded too good to pass up. It was pretty much what you would expect a classic strawberry pie to be — not as good as Evette Rahman’s National Pie Championship-winning strawberry cheese pie at Sister Honey’s Bakery in Orlando, but nothing is. Still, it hit the spot, and it was a generous serving.

Yes, there is some pie crust under there!

I admit that I ate pretty quickly because I had to grab a Lyft and make it from Burbank to LAX against unknowable afternoon traffic, but I got to my gate two hours before boarding, so all was well. I had a good feeling I would be okay. While I have eaten better, more memorable meals in Los Angeles — even on this same trip, which I will write about eventually — I have no regrets about making a pilgrimage to Bob’s Big Boy, to enjoy a tiny taste of classic Americana and retrace the steps of a weirdly wholesome creative genius who brought so much entertainment to my life.

I should have researched which booth David Lynch liked to sit in, but ultimately, that doesn’t matter. The fact that he did so much writing at Bob’s Big Boy, leading to so many unforgettable movies and hours of television, was enough to get me in the door, and I’m so relieved I got that experience. Even though I know he was recently buried in the Hollywood Forever Cemetery with a simple, mysterious grave marker that reads “Night Blooming Jasmine,” I would not have been surprised to see the man himself in a nearby booth, his gray pompadour gone white, his dress shirt buttoned all the way up to his neck, scribbling notes on a napkin. I would have given him a thumbs-up like his Twin Peaks protagonist, Special Agent Dale Cooper, and he might have raised his cup of black coffee to me and said something charmingly cryptic to me in that great old-timey newsman-sounding voice of his, like “Keep your eye on the donut, not the hole.”

The Prince (Los Angeles)

The Prince (https://www.instagram.com/theprincela) is a classy, old-school Los Angeles Korean restaurant and lounge that is most famous for appearing in multiple movies and TV shows over the decades, including Chinatown (one of the greatest L.A. movies, neo-noirs, and movies in general of all time), Mad Men (one of my favorite shows of all time), and New Girl (where it was the characters’ regular hangout). I’ve never actually watched New Girl, but now I am imagining Zooey Deschanel with bangs and glasses, singing a silly old song (maybe “Dream a Little Dream of Me”?) and strumming a ukulele in this dusky, dark red hipster hangout.

Back in November, I was on a work trip to L.A. and had a chance to join some of my amazing co-workers for dinner. I always stay in Koreatown, where my employer is located, and where there seem to be hundreds of Korean restaurants to choose from, at all different styles and price points. I am still very new to Korean food, but the more things I try, the more I feel inspired to branch out and try more. The Prince was walkable from our campus, so since I was already aware of its cinematic résumé and timeless cool décor, I convinced this small group to trust and follow me.

I must apologize in advance for the photos that follow in this review. It’s a gorgeous room, dark and anachronistic, but as soon as I took my first photo to set the scene, a server yelled at me to not use flash photography inside. So I did my best, such as it is, to share the red vinyl booths, the dark wood, the dim lighting, and even these hale and hearty knights standing guard.

Also, I swear I saw Spike Jonze, director of super-creative movies and iconic music videos, dining there, but I wasn’t 100% sure it was him. As much as I wanted to thank him for “Sabotage,” Adaptation, and Jackass, I didn’t want to be That Guy who disturbed his dinner… especially if it wasn’t Spike.

Anyway, our group was a mix of adventurous and unadventurous eaters, so we picked five things that looked good to everyone, and we all shared them. That is my favorite way to dine with friends.

These are the onion rings (RING THE ALARM!) and cheese balls, because you know if I go anywhere and see onion rings on the menu, I have to order them. They were crowd-pleasers, and it was not the first time I had really good onion rings at a Korean restaurant. The cheese balls were even better — perfect, golden-fried, golf ball-sized orbs with melty cheese in the middle, under the breading. I should have tried to get a shot of a bisected cheese ball to show you their molten, sticky, creamy centers, but they went fast!

When you’re introducing Korean food to unfamiliar diners, beef bulgogi is one of those perfect gateway dishes. Bulgogi is a dish of thin-sliced beef (often sirloin steak), marinated in a savory-sweet sauce, and then grilled or stir-fried with onions and green bell peppers. The bulgogi marinade contains soy sauce, sugar, sesame oil, garlic, ginger, and pear juice, which tenderizes the meat. There is nothing spicy or “weird” to scare off the unadventurous diner, so it was another hit at our table. Just FYI: “bul” is Korean for fire, and “gogi” means meat.

We also ordered galbi (sometimes called kalbi), a very similar dish but with beef short ribs sliced cross-wise against the bones, rather than thin-sliced steak. It has a similar flavor due to the marinade, but I already love short ribs in any form — not just the flavor, but the wonderful texture. I especially like the chewy part of the meat right around the bones, which you can just pull off with your fingers if you don’t want to gnaw it off. This was served over onions and scallions, and there wasn’t a morsel left.

I didn’t have any input in choosing this garlic shrimp dish, served with fresh, raw, shredded cabbage, but I was happy to try a couple of the shrimp, which came in their shells and had to be peeled. It was delicious — different from scampi or any other garlic shrimp dish you might be envisioning, but still very satisfying.

I did choose this dish, though: thick, perfectly al dente udon noodles served with mixed seafood: shrimp, mussels, squid, and tiny crab legs (more trouble than they were worth to crack open). The menu describes it as coming in a spicy broth, but it could be served mild upon request. I honestly don’t remember what we decided as a group, but I think we went with spicy and almost everyone still loved it.

Real Korean food aficionados might be rolling their eyes, disappointed that we made relatively staid and familiar choices, but that’s often what happens in a “family-style” group dining situation. I would have loved to try the soondae, since I always love blood sausage in all its other forms, from Argentinian morcilla to British black pudding, but nobody else was on board with this one. It’s all good!

I have no regrets or complaints about The Prince, especially because it is such a part of Los Angeles and Hollywood history. I would not be surprised if there are better Korean restaurants in L.A.’s Koreatown, but the vibes at The Prince are unmatched. Every time I make it out there for work, I try to visit at least one historic, iconic L.A. landmark, whether it’s a tourist attraction, a restaurant, or both. So far, I’m making quite a list. I love my job, and I love L.A.!

Gabriel’s Subs

Gabriel’s Subs (https://sites.google.com/view/gabrielssubs/home) is a rarity in Orlando — a friendly neighborhood sub shop that has survived and thrived since 1958. Not many restaurants have been around that long in our relatively young city, and especially not in College Park, an area where many trendier restaurants just don’t last for any number of reasons. Through all the turnover, Gabriel’s remains a retro-yet-timeless destination where generations of families and hungry teenagers continue to dine. My high school experience consisted of being a lonely, horny, increasingly bitter outsider, counting down the days to graduating and escaping to college (which I looked at like the witness relocation program), but I guarantee that if I had attended Edgewater High School in College Park, I would have at least looked back fondly on the proximity to Gabriel’s Subs.

I only recently made it to Gabriel’s for the first time, and it was so good that I fixated on it for almost two more weeks before I had a chance to return. A friend with good taste had recommended the cheesesteak sub, with the caveat that it might not be as impressive as other cheesesteaks I’ve had, but it would be something singular and special. Well, this dude called it.

The cheesesteak at Gabriel’s is a pretty simple thing: grilled ribeye steak, sliced so thin it is practically shaved, then sauteed with onions and served on a soft roll with American cheese, my preferred cheese for a burger, breakfast sandwich, or a cheesesteak, as it turns out. Nothing melts quite as satisfyingly or pairs with hot, greasy meats quite as well as good ol’ American. I added hot cherry peppers to mine, which I will always do when they are an option.

It was boiling lava hot and pretty greasy, so the above photo was the only one I got, and it didn’t really show much. I had to go back, to try that sandwich again to see if the first one was an anomaly, or if it would always be that good — and on my second visit, I snapped two slightly better photos. Note the different colored basket for cheesesteak #2:

You see, stalwart Saboscrivnerinos, there are definitely more authentic cheesesteaks around that are more like the classic Philadelphia version. My personal favorites in Orlando are identical sandwiches served at John and John’s – A Pizza Shop and Cavo’s Bar and Kitchen. But what makes Gabriel’s cheesesteak special to me is that it tastes JUST LIKE a Krystal or White Castle slider burger, but in sub form. It’s uncanny, especially after adding a squirt of yellow mustard to my second cheesesteak to match the Krystal flavor even closer.
I left off the pickles (honestly my least favorite part of the Krystal and White Castle flavor) and of course added the hot cherry peppers, which make almost everything better for me, but it was such a comforting, familiar savory flavor profile. The meltiness of the cheese melded with the steak and onions on those soft rolls hit just right, and I can’t say enough nice things about it. It is also reminiscent of that New York borough bodega classic sandwich, the chopped cheese, moreso than any other Philly cheesesteaks you’ve had.

RING THE ALARM, because Gabriel’s serves onion rings, and I had to try them! I prefer battered onion rings to this breaded style, but I ate them with a mountain of ketchup, scalding my tongue the entire time because they were so hot out of the fryer.

While I was trying a historic sub shop for the first time, I couldn’t leave without ordering their version of an Italian sub. Gabriel’s calls it the grinder, and it comes with hard salami, capicola, imported ham, prosciuttini (which I’ve only ever seen on Jersey Mike’s #13 Original Italian), provolone cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, onions, Italian dressing, and I added on sweet peppers. This is the grinder back at home, in front of my familiar microwave on my familiar green plates, after the flavors had a chance to meld together in the fridge for a few hours.

They really load up those soft sub rolls, so it’s a bit messy to eat, even by Italian sub standards. But it was really tasty. It’s hard for me to dethrone the namesake Stasio sub from Stasio’s Italian Deli and Market, but Gabriel’s grinder was really satsifying, and I’d happily order it on any return trips.

In fact, I got one on my very first return trip, to get a better photo (and also because I wanted another one, with hot cherry peppers this time)!

Is it overstuffed? Yes. Is it messy? Indubitably. Is it spicy? Oh, indeed. But so am I.

My friends and dozens of readers know that a sub — and especially an Italian sub — is probably my favorite meal. I am always on a quest for good food, but I seek out sandwiches and subs wherever I go because they always sound good to me. I am thrilled to have finally discovered Gabriel’s Subs after living in the Orlando area for 20 years, but better late than never. And after trying it twice, I totally get it. I’m on board. Like Beefy King, a similar time capsule of a restaurant that has withstood changing tastes and trends by continuing to do what it does best, Gabriel’s is an iconic institution and a certified classic. If you are a fellow fan, what is your usual order, and how long have you been ordering it?

Sarge’s Delicatessen and Diner (New York)

I recently took my wife on a whirlwind trip to New York City to celebrate our 15th anniversary. Before that, we had gone there for our 10th anniversary back in 2019, where I reviewed six restaurants, and before that, we were last there for our honeymoon in 2009.

We made the most of this recent trip — we saw two shows together, and while she saw a third, I made off to attend New York Comic Con, where I got comics signed by beloved writers and artists and posed for a photo with my favorite actress, Carla Gugino. Food-wise, we enjoyed a fancy anniversary meal, visited old favorites Ess-A-Bagel and Junior’s, and I took a trip to the Bronx to visit several iconic Italian delis along Arthur Avenue (which will be the subject of a future Saboscrivner ‘sclusive).

As great as my Arthur Avenue adventure was (spoiler alert!), my single favorite meal on this latest NYC trip was Sarge’s Delicatessen and Diner (https://sargesdeli.com/), and not just because I was back with my wife after a day apart from her, mostly spent waiting in long lines with fellow nerds. Sarge’s is located in Manhattan’s Murray Hill neighborhood and first opened in 1964 — not as ancient as Katz’s Delicatessen, but still an impressive run. You will see why shortly.

I should note that on past trips, we had always gone to the historic Katz’s, a Lower East Side landmark and tourist trap known for its legendary pastrami (and legendary chaos). But since we’ve been more than once, and since I’ve had equally fine pastrami at Langer’s Delicatessen in Los Angeles and The Pastrami Project right here in Orlando since our last Katz’s visit, I wanted us to have a new New York deli experience. People always say that the pastrami at Sarge’s may not be quite as good as Katz’s (maybe an 8 or 9 instead of a perfect 10), but the rye bread is better (it wouldn’t take much), the menu is larger, and the entire experience is a lot more pleasant and relaxing, with booths(!) and table service(!) and no long lines. It sounded amazing, so off we went, reunited after spending our longest day in New York doing our own things.

We were seated right away by a lovely and patient server (try finding one of those at Katz’s!), and there were no long lines to get in nor any weird rituals with tickets. My wife started the meal with a magnificent chocolate milkshake, while I opted for a cool, refreshing vanilla egg cream (no doubt made with Fox’s U-Bet vanilla syrup, which I always keep on hand back home). I had just walked from the Jacob Javits Convention Center to the theater district to meet her as her show let out, so I probably would have been better off with delicious New York City tap water, but I was caught up in the moment.
For those of you who never read my reviews, an egg cream contains neither eggs nor cream. It is made with seltzer water, milk, and a flavored syrup — traditionally Fox’s U-Bet chocolate syrup, but I also love egg creams made with Fox’s U-Bet vanilla and coffee syrups. As a result, they are more like a soda than a thick, heavy milkshake. Sometimes I even enjoy one at the end of a heavy meal to aid with digestion, but tonight I opened with the egg cream.

Like any good deli, Sarge’s quickly brought out free plates of regular and half-sour pickles and fresh, cool, crunchy cole slaw. I devoured the cole slaw and had one of each kind of pickle, and they were all terrific, especially as the first real food I had eaten all day.

We were blessed with blissfully cool October weather on our trip, so my wife got one of her favorite Ashkenazi Jewish comfort foods: matzoh ball soup. It was a huge bowl with one huge matzoh ball in the center, but no visible pieces of chicken, no vegetable, no noodles, just the ball. She said it was amazing soup, and after trying a spoonful of broth, I concurred.

She ordered half a pastrami sandwich with her soup, and she loved it as well. As you can see, Sarge’s serves huge, overstuffed deli sandwiches, but the main difference between Sarge’s and Katz’s pastrami sandwich is that Katz’s hand-slices the pastrami, resulting in thicker slices, while Sarge’s uses a machine, ending up with the much thinner, uniform slices you see here.

Whenever I visit a deli, whether it’s Jewish or Italian, I always try to sample as many different house specialties as I can, especially when I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to make it back. I certainly hope to return to Sarge’s one day, but that didn’t stop me from ordering a Custom Combo sandwich with three different meats: the excellent pastrami (on top), its underrated cousin corned beef (in the middle), which was equally great, and rolled beef (the darker meat on the bottom), a mysterious, mythical meat I had only ever heard of, but never seen available anywhere else. For those inquiring, I made sure to deconstruct the sandwich to taste and truly appreciate each meat separately. So what is rolled beef? I wasn’t entirely sure, either before or after eating this heckin’ chonker of a sandwich, so of course I did some research and found a Tablet article about the history of rolled beef. It is cured and smoked beef navel (similar to pastrami in that regard), but less fatty, less peppery, usually served cold, and traditionally a cheaper option at delis. It was great, but I still prefer the perfection of pastrami in the pantheon of salted, cured meats.

And me being me, I saw onion rings on a menu and had to order them. I always try onion rings wherever I am, and I review them in a recurring segment on this blog called RING THE ALARM! Well, folks, I didn’t know exactly what to expect, but our server turned every head in the dining room when she walked out this titanic, tremendous tower, this massive, monumental mountain of gorgeous, golden-brown batter-dipped onion rings. It was almost too beautiful to eat. Almost.
Dear readers, you stalwart Saboscrivnerinos, I can say without hesitation that these were the absolute finest, worthiest, all-time best onion rings I’ve ever had in my life. They narrowly beat another New York deli landmark, the aforementioned Junior’s, which previously held the prize with their similar style of onion rings. These are crispy on the outside (not quite crunchy), and almost cakey on the inside — kind of like fluffy funnel cakes, but savory instead of sweet. I’ve only ever encountered this style of onion rings at iconic Jewish delis, and it is definitely my favorite.

So that was our first-ever trip to Sarge’s Delicatessen and Diner, but hopefully not our last. There are over 200 items to choose from on that vast and voluminous menu, and I doubt any of them would disappoint. In addition to the deli sandwiches they are probably best known for, Sarge’s offers the usual smoked fish you would hope for from a good appetizing store (nova salmon, salty belly lox, smoked whitefish, and even fancy smoked sturgeon and sable, plus multiple varieties of herring), a full breakfast menu, hot dogs and burgers, all kinds of diner classics, and even beer, wine, and liquor. If you’re looking for comfort food in Manhattan and want to enjoy it in actual comfort, as opposed to the tumult of Katz’s, Sarge’s is the place for you. Tell ’em The Saboscrivner sent ya… and they’ll have no idea what you’re taking about!

The Taproom at Dubsdread

I moved to Orlando almost 20 years ago, the day after Thanksgiving in 2004, so I feel a bit like a local. I like to think I know the best places to eat, even though there are always new hotspots and a handful of old classics I have yet to visit. One of them, one of the oldest and most classic Orlando restaurants of all, is The Taproom at Dubsdread (https://taproomatdubsdread.com/), the 100-year-old restaurant at Dubsdread Country Club, nestled between Winter Park and downtown Orlando. I had always heard great things about the food, but I avoided it for the better part of my two decades here, despite loving old, historic restaurants. In a city that isn’t known for its history, you’d think I would have checked it out long before now, but the whole “country club” thing kept me away.

I fully admit to being a bit of a class warrior, taking pride in my middle class origins and silently (or sometimes not so silently) judging and resenting the wealthy. Growing up listening to punk and hip hop and watching the Marx Brothers, the Three Stooges, and “slobs versus snobs” comedies like Trading Places, Caddyshack, and Animal House probably had a lot to do with that. My parents were even more influential on my class consciousness — two career public school teachers who lived simply, refused to spend beyond their means, felt like they had nothing to prove to anyone, and rarely treated themselves to anything. To me, a restaurant at a country club felt like another world I probably wouldn’t be welcome in (and that my parents would probably disapprove of anyway), so I rejected it before it could possibly reject me. I spent all my time in Orlando avoiding the beloved landmark Taproom at Dubsdread until a work colleague and friend who I think the world of invited me to lunch there. I figured this would be my chance to finally check it out and write an unbiased review for my blog. As the guest of a classy, professional woman, I would be less likely to get into trouble with a snooty maitre d’, a judgmental valet, a surly golfer, or a society matron who resembled Margaret Dumont.

And it was a perfectly nice restaurant, much warmer and more welcoming than I expected. If anything, it was a lot less pretentious and highbrow than Hillstone or Seasons 52, those upscale chains. They didn’t even have valet parking, and the hostess and server were really nice.

My colleague ordered the fresh apple and bacon grilled cheese sandwich, which came with Tillamook cheddar, Emmenthaler Swiss, almonds, and fig preserves, plus a side order of fries. It looked really nice, and it inspired me to invite her to the incredible La Femme Du Fromage later on, since I already knew she liked fancy grilled cheese sandwiches.

We must have met for lunch on a Wednesday, since that is the day they offer a chilled lobster and shrimp roll sandwich as a lunch special. I always appreciate a good lobster roll. I had the best one ever twelve years ago at Neptune Oyster in Boston’s North End neighborhood, and I’ve been chasing that high ever since. This one didn’t quite reach those euphoric heights, but it was still really nice and refreshing, served on the traditional split-top bun and served with a side of onion rings — the “good kind,” as far as I’m concerned, with their golden beer battered exterior. So RING THE ALARM, constant readers — you can get a side order of really good onion rings at a country club restaurant, and for only $4! They’re on the menu and everything; I wasn’t like that rube in the commercial who said “Would ya please pass the jelly?”, embarrassing himself at a fancy dinner party, asking Chef for something lowbrow that they normally wouldn’t serve. Great lunch, great company, great restaurant. I thought even my in-laws might like it, and they don’t like most places.

I returned to the Taproom at Dubsdread more recently during Magical Dining Month, when many Orlando restaurants offer a reasonably priced prix fixe menu with a few different appetizer, entrée, and dessert choices to mix and match, where a portion of the final bill goes to help local charities. This time I went for dinner with two very cool friends, a truly glamorous couple who share my love of good food, but we hadn’t had a chance to get together in years. They were great company, as always, and even challenged me to take better food photos than I usually take. We’ll see if their coaching and constructive criticism helped here — you tell me, stalwart Saboscrivnerinos!

We started with bread for the table, which I didn’t know about when I met my colleague for lunch, but now I know… and knowing is half the battle. The bread was like ciabatta, and the butter was whipped for easy spreading, which I always appreciate. Nobody likes frozen butter that can’t be spread!
Being true foodies, we shared everything throughout this magical meal.

These were buffalo shrimp (not mine), served with some celery sticks. I forgot if the dip was bleu cheese or ranch, but the shrimp were nice, with a slightly crunchy exterior and that mild acidity you get from buffalo sauce.

These were Italian meatballs (also not mine), but the owner was very generous and willing to share. I would have been happy to have meatballs like this over a bowl of pasta or in a sub, and I liked that the tomato sauce was chunky and not watery.

I ordered house-made potato chips topped with crumbled bleu cheese, scallions, and balsamic glaze, a delicious dish that was perfect for sharing. The chips were crunchy, not limp, overly greasy, or even overly salty. Of course, balsamic glaze makes everything better, and I’ve really gotten into bleu cheese lately.

For our entrees, someone ordered a bone-in pork chop that looked good:

And two of us, myself included, ordered prime rib. I like my steaks and prime rib RARE, and I was thrilled that the Taproom at Dubsdread took me seriously. Too many places blast a beautiful piece of meat far beyond rare because they don’t believe us and think we’ll send it back for being underdone. Nope, this is how I like it, especially with lots of creamy horseradish sauce for dipping — the more fiery and sinus-clearing, the better. The mashed potatoes scooped beneath were pretty nondescript. They could have used sour cream and/or cream cheese, bits of the potato skin, onions, or something else to liven them up, but sliding them around in the meat drippings helped resuscitate them a little.

The late, great Russell Jones, aka Big Baby Jesus, aka Dirt McGirt, aka Ol’ Dirty Bastard, famously warbled, “Oh baby, I like it RAAAAAAW!” Well, this prime rib was rare rather than raw, and oh baby, that’s how I like it.

It was time for dessert! I did not order this brownie sundae, with a scoop of vanilla ice cream, hot fudge, and whipped cream served over a warm brownie, but it looked really good. How can you go wrong with something like this?

Two of us opted for the key lime pie, which is always one of my favorite desserts, and the Taproom makes an excellent version. The very smooth, shiny topping was more tart than the rest of the creamy filling below, and I loved it. I go nuts for citrus desserts that are sweet and creamy but also tart, and too often, bakers are afraid to go tart enough.

So I would definitely recommend the Taproom at Dubsdread for a nice lunch or dinner, whether you’re some kind of jet-setting big shot with a sweater tied around your neck or an anti-establishment outsider who wants to subvert every dominant paradigm you’ve ever encountered. I’m glad I finally realized that a country club restaurant could be perfectly pleasant, without running into unpleasant stock characters from old-timey slapstick flicks or ’80s comedies from boomer filmmakers. And enjoying two meals with friends didn’t make me part of any System, so I still feel like the cool(?), nonconformist iconoclast I will always be.

Ted Peters Famous Smoked Fish (St. Petersburg)

Ted Peters Famous Smoked Fish (https://tedpetersfish.com/) is a legendary landmark in St. Petersburg, Florida, right off the beach. It is a perfect example of a classic “Old Florida” seafood restaurant and smokehouse, the kinds of places that barely exist anymore, but those that remain are both time capsules and treasures. Founded in 1951 and still family-owned and in its original location, Ted Peters conjures up sights, smells, and tastes of a bygone era, but luckily we can still enjoy them today. In fact, just last month, Southern Living magazine (which features some pretty great food writing) included Ted Peters in its list of Florida’s 17 Most Legendary Restaurants. (I have been to five of them and reviewed one other on this blog, Bern’s Steak House.)

I first visited Ted Peters with my wife several years ago, long before I started writing as The Saboscrivner in 2018. But strangely enough, neither of us remembered much about our first visit, aside from that I liked it. I’ve been wanting to return for years, and on a recent weekend getaway to St. Pete Beach, it was my first stop after checking into our hotel and depositing my wife in our room. I brought back a takeout feast, knowing the room had a mini-fridge in case we couldn’t finish everything. But we were both stunned by the portion sizes upon my return — somehow you’d think that would have stuck in my memory when we ate there the first time, but it didn’t. This recent visit was like getting to experience it all again for the first time.

Just so you know, it doesn’t get much more casual than this place. There are plenty of tables on a covered patio, and they can pull down outer walls in case it rains, as it did on the sweltering late June afternoon I showed up there. There is also an enclosed dining room with some rustic decor — wood-paneled walls and stuffed animal heads. I just poked my head in the room but didn’t linger. You can order beer (or root beer) in frosty glass mugs, but it’s a family-friendly restaurant in every way, not some kind of dirty dive (although it was featured on Guy Fieri’s Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives show).

This is the menu that hangs above the bar, with accurate prices as of June 30th, 2024:

They offer four kinds of smoked fish, all smoked over red oak wood: salmon, mullet, mahi mahi, and mackerel, but mackerel was out of season. Both of our orders came in huge white paper boxes, like the kind of boxes a bakery would send you home with a large pie or cake in. Like I said, we were both stunned back at the hotel when I opened everything up and saw how much fish they give you.

My wife asked for a smoked salmon lunch, which comes with fish, tomato, onion, pickle, and lemon. It was a huge hunk of salmon, hot-smoked to a golden brown color, compared to the delicate pink nova salmon we know and love from a lifetime of bagel breakfasts, appetizing stores, and delicatessens. The hot-smoked salmon was drier and flakier than the tender, thin-sliced nova that melts in your mouth, but it was still really good. You just have to think of it as its own thing — not as salty as nova, but much more oily and “fishy.”
The entire piece had thin, crispy salmon skin underneath that was easy to separate, even with the flimsy plastic fork and knife they included, but we both love salmon skin, so it was a nice surprise treat.

Because mackerel was out of season, I ordered a mullet dinner for myself, and not just because I had a mullet back in 8th and 9th grade. This was a nice piece of fish, even longer than the salmon filet, just not as thick because mullet is a smaller fish. This one reminded me more of the golden smoked whitefish I treat myself to every few years, which I pull apart to make rich, decadent whitefish salad. Like whitefish, mullet is full of long, thin, plasticky, pin-like bones that you have to carefully remove, as well as one long spine that you can pull out in one piece like a cat in an old-timey cartoon. As a result, the mullet was harder to eat in a hotel room due to how messy it is, but we brought a lot home, packed tightly in a cooler with ice, and I made it into some smoked mullet salad back in my kitchen.

Unlike the salmon, you can’t eat the scaly skin of the mullet (the entire underside), so I did what I could to peel it all off, along with the tail, fins, and all those bones. The little sauce containers were a creamy horseradish sauce that had a slight sweetness (not nearly as intensely spicy as the horseradish sauce at Orlando’s beloved Beefy King) and another sauce that was seemingly ranch (that one was for the Swifties), but possibly with some Cajun seasoning added. I brought those home as well and added them to the flaky, deboned mullet (because the meat is also drier than the smoked whitefish I’m used to).

The difference between the lunch and the dinner is that the dinner comes with cole slaw and potato salad, so of course I had to try those! The cole slaw was creamy, crunchy, and refreshing, perfect for cutting through the intensely fishy, oily, smoky flavors and textures.

The potato salad is actually German potato salad, so it is tangy and the slightest bit sweet from being made with apple cider vinegar instead of the standard mayonnaise. It is also rich, smoky, and has a nice blend of soft and crunchy textures from crumbles of bacon. It was served warm, as German potato salad usually is, and it was terrific. I’m so glad I sprang for the dinner instead of the lunch.

I couldn’t go to Ted Peters and not try their famous smoked fish spread, which I definitely did not try on my first visit however long ago. My wife didn’t care for it as much as the salmon and mullet, but surprise surprise, I liked it even more — maybe due to it being less intensely fishy and smoky. The fish (I’m assuming mullet, but it could be a blend) was mixed into a uniform creamy consistency with mayo and sweet pickle relish, adding some sweetness, coolness, and crunch. It reminded me of a really terrific tuna salad with that smoky flavor shining through but not overpowering.
At the restaurant, you can order smoked fish spread with Saltine crackers, but for takeout orders, you just order it by the half-pint, pint, or quart. I got a half-pint, and it didn’t come with crackers, so I had to run by Publix to buy some Saltines. They were fine, but I still contend that anything Saltines can do, Ritz can do better. But my wife loves Saltines, and I wanted to follow the founders’ intent here.

At this point, a couple of you might be lamenting “What if I don’t eat fish?” or “What if I don’t like smoked fish?” Well, first of all, I would probably suggest trying a different restaurant. There are so many to choose from up and down St. Pete Beach and on the mainland, and many are in the good-to-great range. But just in case, I had always read that Ted Peters Famous Smoked Fish serves really tasty burgers, and I had to put that to the test. I’m a cheeseburger guy, and I think American cheese is the best cheese you can put on a burger. But my wife doesn’t like cheese on burgers, so I ordered a plain hamburger with her in mind, just in case any of the fish were “too fishy” for her. When I showed her the plain burger as an option, she said it looked a little sad, plus she surprised both of us by liking the smoked salmon and mullet as much as she did.

Now I like a lot of stuff on a burger (surprise, surprise), so if it looked sad, that’s because it was plain. Since she wanted nothing to do with it, I added ketchup, yellow mustard, and relish (from included packets), the “seemingly ranch” sauce, and lettuce and tomato. It was delicious! It tasted like a burger you’d get at a cookout with that nice flavor from the grill. The bun was your typical squishy white bread bun, not grilled or toasted or anything, but absolutely fine for what it was. Adding American cheese and grilled onions and grilling the bun might have brought this burger over the top, but I have no complaints. If you don’t want your fingers or your breath to smell like smoked fish for hours after dining, like if you’re on a really hot date at Ted Peters, then consider the burger.

Now key lime pie is one of my favorite desserts ever, but my wife doesn’t share my love for it. I was all ready to skip the tempting key lime pie on Ted Peters’ menu for the second time, but it was actually her idea to order a slice. Of course I did not argue! It was nice and tangy, an ideal dessert for balancing out smoky, rich fish, but the crust was rather crumbly and a bit bland. Rather than the standard moist graham cracker crust, it might have been made of shortbread or even ‘Nilla Wafers, that mainstay of Southern-style banana pudding. (When I was a little Saboscrivner, before I spent 15 years working for a Catholic law school, I used to think the “wafers” consumed during Catholic mass were ‘Nilla Wafers.)
I would definitely recommend it anyway, since key lime pie is Florida’s official dessert (or should be), and it does go so perfectly at the end of a meal like this. But this is a rare occasion where I might give the edge to the Publix bakery, and I would be remiss if I didn’t credit the award-winning baker Evette Rahman of Sister Honey’s Bakery in Orlando for making the best key lime pie I’ve ever had in my life.

So anyway, Southern Living is right on about this place. And if you don’t believe me and don’t believe them, my friend and role model Amy Drew Thompson, the food writer for the Orlando Sentinel, is a fellow fan of Ted Peters Famous Smoked Fish, and she definitely knows what she’s talking about. But hopefully you can see from my words and pictures that Ted Peters is a unique experience, something that is all too rare in Florida and almost nonexistent anywhere else. After our most recent visit to St. Pete Beach, I said again what I’ve said before, that if I had to live anywhere in Florida that isn’t in or around Orlando, the St. Pete/Tampa area would be it for me. My wife and I love St. Pete Beach for short little weekend getaways, but it would totally be worth a day trip from Orlando just to take in a taste of timeless Old Florida at Ted Peters Famous Smoked Fish. Eat on the patio, spring for the dinner so you can have German potato salad and cole slaw, get your hands a little dirty, raise a frosty mug, and be glad that after all these decades and generations, the crew at Ted Peters still smokes fish every day.

Philippe the Original (Los Angeles)

On my second trip to Los Angeles for work, I caught a Lyft ride at the airport and went straight to another famous, historic L.A. restaurant, luggage and all, before even checking in at my hotel or reporting to work. I had done my research like any good librarian, so I planned to go to Philippe the Original (https://www.philippes.com/), the inventors of the French dipped sandwich. Founded in 1908, Philippe the Original has probably changed very little over the decades. The prices have surely gone up in the past century and change, but not nearly as much as you would think.

You order and pay at the counter, and then the very patient servers assemble you a tray, cafeteria-style, while doubling as cashiers. I miss cafeteria-style restaurants. We went to a bunch when I was a kid, from Morrison’s in the mall to the old K-Mart cafeteria, but you don’t see this much anymore, aside from some casual Latin restaurants like Orlando’s Lechonera El Barrio. Philippe the Original also has a diner feel to it, since it also serves breakfast (and Los Angeles is a big diner city). But I was not here for breakfast, dear readers. Oh no, I was a man with a shopping list. With an agenda, even.

The main draw is the French-dipped sandwiches, which come on a delicious French roll. You can also get them on white, wheat, rye, or sourdough bread, but please don’t do this. You can get the sandwiches single-dipped, double-dipped, or “wet” in au jus, so I opted for a single dip as a first-timer, with an extra ramekin of jus on the side for this Jew. You can choose between sliced beef, pork, lamb, New York pastrami, ham, or turkey, and even though I’m sure you can’t go wrong with any of those, I had a hard time choosing. I asked, fully expecting to be told no, if I could get two kinds of meat on my sandwich, and the nice lady said of course! I couldn’t get half the roll with one and the other half with the other meat, but I could definitely get two different meats stacked upon each other. Now we were talking! I asked what she recommended, and she said of the six, she would narrow it down to beef, lamb, and pastrami. Now, I already had plans to meet friends at one of L.A.’s most iconic deli institutions, so I figured I would save the pastrami for that later meal. Beef and lamb for the win! I also added on bleu cheese, which pairs so well with red meat, but rarely makes an appearance in sandwiches and even less often as a thick slice. It got surprisingly melty on there, between the warm roll, hot meat, and hot jus. You can see the light brown lines in the cross-section of this roll above the cheese, and that is where they dipped the roll in the jus. This was a huge, thick, hearty sandwich. The beef and lamb were both very tender, but I preferred whichever one was sliced thinner (the beef, I think, which surprised me, since I always gravitate toward lamb when it is an option). That purpley-pink thing in the corner was a pickled egg, one of many accoutrements I ordered with my two-meat sandwich, fished out of a big jar on the counter. I couldn’t resist! It was so vinegary and tangy and good. I love pickled eggs, but never thought to employ beet juice when I make my own at home. Now I know… and knowing is half the battle!

Believe it or not, Los Angeles is a big chili city. Angelenos love putting chili on hot dogs and burgers and serving it in diners, so I figured the meat-centric Philippe the Original would serve a good cup of chili. They did. Like everything else, it was pretty classic — no frills, not fancy, just mildly spicy, and of course they knew better than to add beans. If you imagine a cup of chili from a diner, you’ve got it. It might not win any awards in the Terlingua Chili Cookoff, but this is quintessential L.A. chili. And to me, that makes it quintessential American chili.

Like any classic diner or cafeteria, Philippe the Original also had a refrigerated glass case full of tempting pies, cakes, baked apples (talk about old-school!), and prepared salads: cole slaw, macaroni and potato salad. As much as I would have loved to try all three of those, I was already going a little wild.

I chose the macaroni salad, which normally edges out potato salad for me, and I chose wisely. It was a simple, mayo-based macaroni salad with a slight crunch from celery (or green bell pepper?) and a tangy sweetness. It reminded me of a macaroni salad you would get at a mid-century lunch counter, maybe in a drugstore or even a department store. I miss those places too, and they were already 99% phased out by the time I was a kid in the ’80s.

Each table had a squeeze bottle of a relatively thin, horseradish-heavy hot mustard, that I applied to my wonderful beef, lamb, and bleu cheese sandwich after taking a few unadorned bites as a control. It was an excellent mustard that complemented the rich, salty, juicy sandwich perfectly. I noticed they sell it in bottles, but as much as I would have loved to bring one home, I do not check bags, and I knew TSA would confiscate it. Regular readers know my obsession with mustards and other condiments (such as my Cutting the Mustard reviews), but at least I got to try it in the restaurant.

Also, I got the most delightful little glass of lemonade for something like 95 cents. When I saw the price, I didn’t know how big the glass would be, but it was wee. I guess this is like portion sizes were like back in the day, before Big Gulps and whatnot. Really refreshing lemonade, though, especially after all that salty food and waking up at 4 AM for a flight.

I might have looked like a big weirdo, wheeling my roll-aboard bag through Philippe the Original, but I knew it would have to be my first stop in L.A. or I wouldn’t be able to make it back later. I’m so glad I did, because it was truly awesome. It lived up to all the hype I had read online, to say nothing of passing mentions and sightings in L.A.-based TV shows like Bosch. I love these historic restaurants that have been doing the same thing for decades, sometimes lasting a century or more, because they are that damn good. Los Angeles is full of them, and I look forward to exploring more on future work trips (and eventually getting around to reviewing everything from this last visit). If you appreciate a good French dip sandwich, try to make a pilgrimage to the creator some day. The originator, the O.G. — Philippe the Original.