Our favorite L.A. restaurants: Gone, but not forgotten

Los Angeles Times

29-05-2025

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.