Los Angeles – The Saboscrivner

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.

Langer’s Delicatessen-Restaurant (Los Angeles)

Any of my friends, family, and long-time readers know I am a huge fan of delicatessens, whether they are Jewish or Italian. I am thrilled to say that I recently got to visit the city of Los Angeles for the first time, and on a short, three-day work trip, I still managed to fit in meals at two separate Jewish delis. I’ll write about the first one I visited a little later, since it was part of a magnificent food hall, but this review is about the second L.A. deli I went to, which happens to be second to none.

Founded in 1947, Langer’s Delicatessen-Restaurant (https://www.langersdeli.com/) is a timeless classic, probably the L.A. equivalent of the legendary Katz’s Delicatessen in New York’s Lower East Side. I have been to Katz’s a few times and reviewed it after my latest trip there, in 2019. The atmosphere at Katz’s is chaotic, like so much else in New York City, but the pastrami is so good, it is worth the high prices and less-than-relaxing meal. However, my admonition to anyone going to Katz’s is to request their pastrami sandwich on a club roll, since the rye bread sucks. It is essentially an edible napkin, although it doesn’t work much better as a napkin than it does as bread.

I have no such grave advice to offer about Langer’s Deli on the left coast, aside from just making sure you go to Langer’s. I would rank the pastrami on par with Katz’s — equal, if not better, but that makes it god-tier pastrami that is better than just about anyone else’s from anywhere. We all got a kick out of the description of the pastrami from Langer’s menu, especially the last part: “Hot pastrami is a select cut of beef, sugar-cured and seasoned as corned beef, then slowly smoked for tenderness and tantalizing taste and flavor, then covered with choice and costly spices.”

I am also thrilled to report that the rye bread at Langer’s is terrific, and it is also a lot more of a chill vibe there, without the bedlam of the Katz’s experience. I went with two of my new co-workers who are both based in L.A., but none of us had been there before. Located on the corner of 7th and Alvarado that has seen better days (man, that sounded like a bit of inter-song banter on a ’70s Tom Waits record), Langer’s is near another Los Angeles landmark, MacArthur Park, a once-beautiful park where someone once left a cake out in the rain, but it is kind of sketchy and foreboding today.

Anyway, we all had a very pleasant lunch, and being smart people (librarians all), we stuck to the house specialty, that perfect pastrami. My new supervisor ordered the French dipped pastrami sandwich, which came on a roll with au jus on the side. Apparently, L.A. is the place to be if you’re a French dip fan, with the famous Philippe the Original as another destination for sandwich aficionados that I hope to visit in the future.
He seemed to love his sandwich, even if he expressed a bit of cognitive dissonance over our other colleague’s choice.

She ordered the iconic #19, Langer’s most popular sandwich, with pastrami, Swiss cheese, creamy cole slaw, and Russian dressing on rye bread, which was a very smart choice. I could not get over how soft the rye bread was, yet it had a crispy, crackly crust that you never get with supermarket rye.

As for me, I could not decide between two sandwiches on Langer’s menu, so in true Saboscrivner style, I ordered both of them, to eat a half of each at the restaurant and enjoy the other halves later. This was my #6, with hot pastrami, chopped liver, and Russian dressing on that same perfect rye bread. You can see that the pastrami is hand-carved into thick slices, and it was so juicy and moist and tender and rich and fatty, I cannot rave enough about it. The chopped liver was savory and creamy and perfect, and a squirt of mustard brought some acidic brightness to this sensational sandwich.

My other choice was the #44, with hot pastrami (of course), sauerkraut, and Nippy cheese, served on grilled rye. It was essentially a pastrami Reuben, except the Swiss was replaced with Nippy cheese. What the heck is Nippy cheese? I loved the sandwich, and yet I’m still not entirely sure. I was too distracted to ask our patient server, but my research shows that Kraft used to sell a processed cheese spread called Nippy cheese (before my time), but the stuff at Langer’s is more like a tangy American cheese that had melted into the grilled rye. It was such a rich and salty sandwich, almost any cheese would have gotten a bit lost in the shuffle, but I like American cheese more than most, and I have zero regrets about my choice. It was the best Reuben I’ve ever had, especially because I prefer pastrami to the standard Reuben filling of corned beef, and because almost any cheese has more character than Swiss (fit for Reubens, Cubans, and that’s about it). The pickles were pretty classic deli-style kosher dills, by the way.

Even though I order macaroni salad almost anywhere that offers it to compare and contrast, I can say that the macaroni salad at Langer’s was nothing special, and I think my co-workers agreed. The mayonnaise-based dressing was a bit thin and runny, and I think there was yellow mustard in there too. I had been curious about it, and I’m not sorry I ordered it, but I would not get it again. If I ever make it back to Langer’s, I think I will try their chili next time, perhaps in the form of chili cheese fries.

As a mustard aficionado (see my past Cutting the Mustard features for more mustard reviews than you ever dreamt of), I was a little surprised to see Langer’s uses good ol’ Gulden’s Spicy Brown, but that’s the mustard my dad always bought, and it’s a classic for good reason.
My colleagues were good and drank water, but I had heard Langer’s has its own cream soda available as a fountain drink, so I couldn’t resist. It was much better than that deli staple Dr. Brown’s — sweeter, more vanilla-ey, and more refreshing. It was a hot August day in L.A., and I definitely took advantage of the free refills.

I had such an amazing time on this trip to L.A., especially getting to meet my co-workers in real life and visit the beautiful school I work for remotely. Aside from the professional stuff, this magnificent meal at Langer’s Delicatessen-Restaurant was a highlight of this too-short visit (the first of hopefully many). Not only did the pastrami live up to its legendary status, but I had wanted to eat here for many years — ever since I read journalist David Sax’s 2009 book Save the Deli. I had planned to go there alone as my first act in Los Angeles, on the way from the airport to work, before even checking into my hotel. However, sharing that experience on my second day in the city with two new co-workers, getting to know them better over sandwiches, and considering them friends from here on out, made my Langer’s lunch that much more profound and unforgettable. (And unlike Katz’s, it was a relaxing lunch on top of everything else good about it!)