Our favorite L.A. restaurants: Gone, but not forgotten
In their soul, everyone has a historic restaurant they miss dearly in Los Angeles.
Some fell victim to the mounting challenges that restaurants face in L.A.: gentrification, rising retail rental costs, and a prolonged financial fallout following pandemic closures, Hollywood industry strikes and the devastating January wildfires.
Despite their untimely end, the city's most iconic restaurants have not faded from our collective memory. In the following list, Food writers reflect on some of L.A.'s bygone restaurants and what they meant to us. Whether it was the food, atmosphere or reliably warm service, these are the places that can never be replicated, and that we'd reopen if we could.
Just recently, we've lost stalwarts including the century-old Original Pantry Cafe in downtown L.A. and Papa Cristo's, a bustling Greek market and restaurant in Pico-Union for 77 years.
Which restaurants would you reopen if you could? Scroll down to the response form at the bottom to share your memories of our city's hallowed haunts.
— Danielle Dorsey
The final demise of Pacific Dining Car — the iconic steakhouse inside of a railway car on 6th Street — was a heartbreaker for Los Angeles. How many times did I slide into one of its green upholstered booths at a white-cloth table at any hour of the day or night (since it was open round the clock)? We ordered baseball steaks on Fridays to kick off the weekend, gathered for brunch to celebrate graduations, and ended up there for middle-of-the-night burgers or chocolate soufflés after shows or my sister's late shift as a waitress downtown, or when we'd exhausted all other options at 2 a.m. We were unruly but were always welcomed by the veteran waiters and received the same polished, patient service every time. The Pacific Dining Car, as well as its satellite site in Santa Monica, never reopened after the 2020 pandemic shutdowns. Two fires since 2024 finally led to the Westlake original's demolition in March. — Betty Hallock
Shortly after moving to L.A. in the 2000s, I was running around with a group that included a bank teller, a stylist, a Diesel jeans person and two hairdressers, where the only thing that unified us was deep house and party clothes. One weekend morning that began with red wine before breakfast found us tumbling westward with no destination from Echo Park, till someone told us to meet them at the Overland Cafe in Palms. By the time we got there, the room was popping with ebullient singles energy, transmitted upon plates of eggs benedict, pancakes and so, so many mimosas. It was a riotous morning. We charmed the server to the point that she doubled up the Champagne, several times, and if memory serves, she actually agreed to hang out with us after her shift. And did! Palms wasn't 'cool' at the time, but the Overland Cafe was; there for the good old times, or an awkward first business meeting, reliable. In 2023, the Overland Cafe closed after 50 years in operation. How many sloppy mimosa brunches did you have there? Teardrop. — Daniel Hernandez
Before I moved to L.A., friends and I would drive up from Riverside on weekends to attend concerts at the Knitting Factory and House of Blues, only to end up at Roscoe's on West Pico Boulevard afterward. The parking lot doubled as an after-party, with groups crowded on the hoods of cars that vibrated with the bass of hip-hop tracks as they waited for their parties to be sat. There was nothing better than rehashing the night over the Carol C. Special (one chicken breast and one waffle) paired with Lisa's Delight, a pucker-sweet iced tea lemonade, before we braved the freeway back home. The legendary location closed in 2023 after 32 years, making way for a larger outpost at the corner of Washington and La Brea. An honorable mention goes to the Pasadena location of Roscoe's that my family frequented after Sunday church and dance recitals when I was growing up. It closed last year. — D.D.
When Yujean Kang's opened in 1991, it helped transform sleepy Pasadena into a culinary destination, introducing diners to Kang's distinctly haute takes on regional Chinese cuisines. I still dream of his miniature pork wontons swimming in an addictively tangy chile and vinegar sauce; the crispy beef in a sweet and spicy glaze and the tea-smoked duck, nestled into delicate crepes with perfect plum sauce. — Jenn Harris
No Jewish-deli closure rocked the city so hard as Greenblatt's, which shuttered with little warning in 2021 after 95 years of pastrami and smoked-fish salads. Los Angeles has lost so many over the years, namely stalwart chain Jerry's Famous Deli (a childhood favorite of mine due to its stacked sandwiches) and Fairfax's Diamond Bakery. A two-story West Hollywood behemoth bedecked in stained glass, brass and dark wood, Greenblatt's doubled as a bottle shop but more importantly served as a gathering place for so many generations of Angelenos. It counted Marilyn Monroe, Marlon Brando and Janis Joplin as customers. It's where one of my best friends asked me to be her bridesmaid over a shared pastrami on rye and bowl of matzo ball soup. I sped over to the Sunset Strip on its last night of service to survey the scene and chat with its decades of fans who'd dropped by for a farewell bite — the gravity of the closure seemed to weigh on everyone there. We knew what we were losing, and it still stings. — Stephanie Breijo
My first solo apartment as a student attending UCLA was in an alley behind Masayuki Ishikawa's unconventional French-Japanese restaurant Sawtelle Kitchen. I got to know Ishikawa (he parked his car in the spot next to mine) well enough that I could walk downstairs to Sawtelle Kitchen's back door and order coffee jelly (despite the fact that there was no takeout) and return the empty parfait glass after I'd finished the dessert. But I also loved eating inside the tiny, wooden house of a restaurant and ordering my favorite pasta: spaghetti with butter, shiso and ume, or pickled plum. I ate it so many times that I can still make a fairly close approximation. — B.H.
It's true, the food wasn't exactly exceptional. But, open between 1989 and 2023 in a century-old bungalow off Vine Street in Hollywood, Off Vine for many occupied that ideal station: a California 'comfort' restaurant that gave you a fuzzy feeling for simply existing. By the time word of its permanent closure got around two years ago, old-timey locals of every stripe poured out their goodbyes. One of these was Associated Press reporter Linda Deutsch, the undeniable legend of ace courtroom journalism. Well into retirement but still somehow always reporting, Deutsch (whose star rose covering the O.J. Simpson trial) approached our desk with the news tip and offered to write the Off Vine obituary herself. She penned a stirring, diligently reported opus to the place, her veritable second home. 'It's not just a restaurant,' the last co-owner, Richard Falzone, told her. 'It's a home where there's love, good food and good cheer.' Deutsch worked hard on the piece, hustling as if she were a cub reporter all over again, the sign of a real one. And it would be her last byline. Deutsch died a year later at 80. — D.H.
Many of the Silver Lake and Echo Park standbys that I'd cycle between in my early 20s have closed. Spaceland, Silver Lake Coffee, Pizza Buona. Brite Spot was a diner friends and I would land at after bouncing between Gold Room, Short Stop and the Echo, or because everything else was closed and we sought a florescent-lighted, vinyl-upholstered haven for pre-dawn yapping. The food was always mediocre, but the atmosphere, people-watching and round-the-clock hours made it a retro-hued oasis for neighborhood night owls. — D.D.
My first introduction to Thai food was in the Pasadena dining room of Taste of Bangkok restaurant in the early 1990s. My family feasted on Sue and Phil Balderama's stir-fried noodles, curries and mango with sticky rice weekly. After more than two decades in business, the restaurant was forced to close to make room for a hotel restoration project. I'll always remember Sue's food, and how she made us feel like family. — J.H.
For a few brief years one of the world's most famous film directors answered the question, 'What if you could eat submarine sandwiches inside of a submarine?' From 1994 to 1999, a bright yellow faux sub protruded from a corner of the Century City Mall (now the Westfield), where every 45 minutes a simulated 'dive' would occur — blaring sirens, flashing lights and bubbling porthole windows included. To a child of around 8 or 9 years, Dive! — from entertainment impresarios Steven Spielberg, Jeffrey Katzenberg and Steve Wynn — was a wonderland. This wasn't just lunch, it was adventure. Kitsch. Insanity even in an era of Planet Hollywood and the Rainforest Cafe.
I have never forgotten Dive! In fact, for Halloween in 2023, I dressed as Spielberg promoting the restaurant, sourcing vintage Dive! merch off EBay. I can't remember much of the food there, but I'll never forget the experience of sitting inside this singular, aquatic-themed, 11,000-square-foot extremely '90s restaurant with my dad, red lights blasting around us. — S.B.
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
Yahoo
10 hours ago
- Yahoo
As Jupiter enters Cancer, expect magic milk and healing waters
On June 9, Jupiter, our gas giant planet of luck, abundance, games of chance, and inclinations of excess, will set up his roulette wheel in the breast milk founts of Cancer for the first time in over a decade. The zodiac's good-timing, dice rolling, drunk uncle will remain in the sign of the crab until June 2026. With a gilded touch and a gouty toe, Jupiter expands all that he touches. In the feelings-forward, intuitive, and home-centric sign of Cancer, that expansion is found through healing, healthy boundaries, and fortified foundations. On a collective level, we will all benefit from the vulnerability, magic, and depth lent by Jupiter in Cancer. In Gemini, Jupiter is about the expansion of expression, while in Cancer, the power of plenty extends to reflection and tending to the wounded waters from which we came. Aiding and abetting our understanding of this transit is the brilliant astrologer and spiritual counselor Letao Wang. 'As Jupiter moves into Cancer, we are invited into a period of emotional growth, deepened connections, and collective care. When in Cancer — a sign ruled by the Moon and deeply tied to home, family, and emotional security — this transit encourages us to expand our hearts, heal old wounds, and build stronger foundations in both our personal and collective lives,' Wang told The Post. Jupiter enters Cancer on June 9 and will remain in the backwater of the crab until June 30, 2026. Jupiter is exalted in the sign of Cancer, meaning the planet can fully express its powers and prowess and in turn, its easier for we mortals to receive and access its boons and bounty. 'Jupiter's journey through Cancer will emphasize themes of compassion, protection, and humanitarian efforts. We may see increased focus on housing security, food accessibility, and support for families and children. Governments and organizations could prioritize policies that nurture communities, such as improved healthcare or social safety nets. Emotionally, the world may feel more inclined toward unity and empathy, with a collective desire to care for one another—especially those in vulnerable situations.' Wang shared that this transit also supports creative and domestic pursuits. 'Art, music, and storytelling that evoke nostalgia or emotional resonance will flourish, and many may feel drawn to reconnect with their roots, whether through family, tradition, or homeland.' Cancer is about nurturance and Jupiter is about amplification. In kind, this transit ehannces our ability to heal. According to Greek myth, after completing his arduous labors, the exhausted hero Hercules struck the earth with his club. In response, the ground gave was, fissuring and flooding into hot springs. Lowering himself into the water, Hercules was healed, his muscles soothed and his spirit restored. Jupiter in Cancer invokes a similar energy, a summons to transmute suffering into salve and heal ourselves through ourselves. A divine dive in. Surf's up, mothertruckers. Astrologer Reda Wigle researches and irreverently reports on planetary configurations and their effect on each zodiac sign. Her horoscopes integrate history, poetry, pop culture, and personal experience. To book a reading, visit her website.
Boston Globe
2 days ago
- Boston Globe
Recipe: Fill your own wraps with Greek salad and tuck in delicious pan-seared halloumi
4. Lift the bottom edge of the wrap and fold it over the filling. Fold in the sides until they almost meet in the center. Roll the wrap away from you to form a package that contains the filling tightly. Cut it in half crosswise at an angle and transfer to a plate. Fill and fold the remaining wraps in the same way. 3. Working with one wrap at a time, spread 2 tablespoons of hummus on the bottom third in a line that is 3 inches from the bottom edge. Leave a gap of 2 inches on each side for folding inward later. With a slotted spoon, place about 1/2 cup of the salad on the hummus. Place 2 slices of halloumi on top. Add mint and parsley leaves. Sprinkle with extra sumac. 2. Wipe out the pan. Set it over medium heat. Heat each wrap for about 10 seconds, or until warm and pliable. 1. In a large nonstick skillet over medium heat, heat the oil. Add the halloumi slices and cook for 2 to 4 minutes, turning once, or until they are golden. Remove the pan from the heat. 1. In a bowl large enough to hold all the salad ingredients, whisk the vinegar, a generous pinch each of salt and pepper, and sumac. Slowly whisk in the olive oil. Taste for seasoning and add more salt and pepper, if you like. Wraps are common at almost every lunch counter, but you'll embark on a whole new flavor adventure when you create your own at home. This wrap, inside lavash or large flour tortillas, holds creamy hummus, a Greek salad, and golden halloumi cheese. Halloumi is a semi-hard, salty, and tangy cheese originally made in Cyprus from sheep's milk, now made all over the Eastern Mediterranean with sheep, cow, and goat's milk. Because it has a high melting point, halloumi can be fried or grilled until it turns brown and crispy on the outside, soft and creamy in the middle. Sheer magic! In this wrap, pair it with your favorite homemade or store-bought hummus and a salad of cucumbers, tomatoes, olives, and sumac. You can find ground sumac, made from the dried berries of the sumac plant, in most Middle Eastern grocery stores. The deep red powder is packed with a tart, lemony flavor, worth buying to use later in rubs or marinades or sprinkling on salads. Add fresh oregano, mint, and parsley and you have a party of tastes and textures wrapped up in a handy package. Serves 4 Wraps are common at almost every lunch counter, but you'll embark on a whole new flavor adventure when you create your own at home. This wrap, inside lavash or large flour tortillas, holds creamy hummus, a Greek salad, and golden halloumi cheese. Halloumi is a semi-hard, salty, and tangy cheese originally made in Cyprus from sheep's milk, now made all over the Eastern Mediterranean with sheep, cow, and goat's milk. Because it has a high melting point, halloumi can be fried or grilled until it turns brown and crispy on the outside, soft and creamy in the middle. Sheer magic! In this wrap, pair it with your favorite homemade or store-bought hummus and a salad of cucumbers, tomatoes, olives, and sumac. You can find ground sumac, made from the dried berries of the sumac plant, in most Middle Eastern grocery stores. The deep red powder is packed with a tart, lemony flavor, worth buying to use later in rubs or marinades or sprinkling on salads. Add fresh oregano, mint, and parsley and you have a party of tastes and textures wrapped up in a handy package. SALAD 2 tablespoons sherry vinegar or red wine vinegar Salt and pepper, to taste ½ teaspoon ground sumac 3 tablespoons olive oil 2 small cucumbers, cut into 1/2-inch pieces 6 ounces cherry tomatoes, halved (about 1/2 pint) ¼ small red onion, thinly sliced ¼ cup pitted Kalamata olives, halved if large 2 tablespoons chopped fresh oregano 1. In a bowl large enough to hold all the salad ingredients, whisk the vinegar, a generous pinch each of salt and pepper, and sumac. Slowly whisk in the olive oil. Taste for seasoning and add more salt and pepper, if you like. 2. Fold in the cucumbers, cherry tomatoes, onion, olives, and oregano. WRAPS 2 tablespoons olive oil 1 package (8 ounces) halloumi, cut into 8 slices and patted dry if wet 4 round lavash wraps (10 inches to 12 inches) or burrito-size flour tortillas 1 cup hummus ½ bunch fresh mint, leaves removed ½ bunch flat-leaf parsley, leaves removed Extra sumac (for sprinkling) 1. In a large nonstick skillet over medium heat, heat the oil. Add the halloumi slices and cook for 2 to 4 minutes, turning once, or until they are golden. Remove the pan from the heat. 2. Wipe out the pan. Set it over medium heat. Heat each wrap for about 10 seconds, or until warm and pliable. 3. Working with one wrap at a time, spread 2 tablespoons of hummus on the bottom third in a line that is 3 inches from the bottom edge. Leave a gap of 2 inches on each side for folding inward later. With a slotted spoon, place about 1/2 cup of the salad on the hummus. Place 2 slices of halloumi on top. Add mint and parsley leaves. Sprinkle with extra sumac.
Chicago Tribune
3 days ago
- Chicago Tribune
Chicago fire: Flaming saganaki sparks interest worldwide decades after its Greektown origin
Last winter, at Chicago's Greek Islands (200 S. Halsted St.), our Greektown dinner started with a bang — more accurately, a whoosh. A server carried a small black pan of blazing cheese to the table as startled diners burst into applause for what is the Windy City's notoriously combustible appetizer: flaming saganaki. In Chicago, the dish is a ritual. It's dramatic, it's delicious, and — let's be honest — it's also a little absurd in the best possible way. The word saganaki comes from sagani, a small, two-handled Greek pan. In Greece, the dish is straightforward: firm, dry cheeses such as kasseri, feta or halloumi are pan-fried until golden. No fire. No flair. Just cheese doing what cheese does best, served with crusty bread. In Chicago, we lightly coat the square or triangular cut of cheese in flour and fry it in a little olive oil until crisp and golden. Then we flip it once, warm it through, splash it with brandy (usually ouzo or Metaxa), light it up, and before setting it on the table, flamboyantly extinguish the flames with a lemon squeeze and a hearty shout of 'Opa!' That word — part cheer, part celebration, part call to 'let's dance!' — adds the perfect exclamation point. So, where did this fiery tradition begin? Depends on whom you ask. Chris Liakouras of the now-shuttered Parthenon restaurant claimed in a 1979 Tribune interview that he invented flaming saganaki in 1968. He described sitting at a table with three friends when the idea for a new menu item was born. 'Why don't you try flaming the cheese?' one of the ladies suggested. And just like that, an appetizer exploded into legend. But Petros Kogeones of Diana's, another Greektown fixture, had a different story. In 1991, he told the Tribune that he and his brother were flambéing cheese as far back as the early 1960s. According to Kogeones, they'd set up tables outside their family grocery, splash brandy on sizzling cheese, light it all on fire, and shout 'Opa!' Eventually, perhaps to stake his claim, Kogeones even renamed the restaurant Diana's Opa. Regardless of who struck the first match to brandy-doused cheese, one thing is clear: Flaming saganaki was a hit. And honestly, when we're traveling and we order saganaki, we're always a little disappointed when it doesn't arrive in a ball of fire. There is, however, increasingly little chance of being served saganaki sans flames, at least in the U.S.: Restaurants from Brooklyn to Malibu are figuring out that brandy and a match might be the not-so-secret ingredients to serving a lot of the crowd-pleasing saganaki. 'The flames were a smart marketing idea,' says Louie Alexakis, owner of the Avli restaurants in Chicago. 'In the 1950s and '60s, a lot of Greek restaurant workers in Chicago had fine dining backgrounds. They saw the wow factor of tableside flambé — things like crepes Suzette or bananas Foster. Flaming cheese was the next step.' Alexakis still flames saganaki at Avli, but also offers a more modern take: saganaki served with spiced fig chutney — still delicious, and less likely to set off the sprinklers. Not everyone is on board with this fiery New World opener to a traditional Greek dinner in Chicagoland. Ted Maglaris, founder of Mana in LaGrange (88 LaGrange Road), said, 'We chose not to flame our pan-fried saganaki but rather to honor the traditional Greek preparation, inspired by recipes from mothers in Greece, which is the inspiration for our restaurant's name, Mana. Flaming saganaki is a relatively recent tradition that began in Chicago, not in Greece. Our goal is to provide an authentic Greek experience, staying true to how saganaki is traditionally enjoyed in Greece.' Flashback: Memories of when Greektown was 'a mile long and 24 hours'With the current eagerness to sample 'authentic' preparations of Greek, Italian, Mexican and other traditional national foods, it's understandable that some restaurants might prefer to serve saganaki the way their mothers and grandmothers did, no matches or accelerants required. Other restaurants may be toning down the theatrics for safety reasons — turns out, flaming cheese and crowded dining rooms make for a risky combination. Somewhat surprisingly, flaming saganaki is now also catching on in Greece, especially in tourist-heavy restaurants, such as the Athens Yacht Club. Though such fiery presentations of cheese are not common in Greece, some travelers have come to expect saganaki to be flaming. And who can blame them? There's something undeniably fun about turning a simple cheese dish into a full-blown pyrotechnic display. Flaming saganaki isn't just food — it's dinner, entertainment, and a tiny adrenaline rush all in one.
