 | |
 |
 |
The Man Who Ate L.A.1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | Itinerary | Home
Los Angeles may have a reputation for some of the most expensive restos in the world, but its real culinary map is sketched out with quick roadside stops, bright-light strip-mall gems and unpretentious comfort food. L.A. is the spiritual home of American fast food: Around the freeways, it’s a sprawling dominion of enticing drive-thrus and sweet doughnut stands, a bonanza of taquerias, Korean barbecues and chicken huts that could ease the soul of anyone in Hollywood – even the evil genius who green-lighted Norbit. The night before I found myself at the hot (or “hawt!”) hotel scene, I was lined up with the other roué Sunset Strip-goers at Pink’s, the city’s most legendary hot dog stand. To eat at Pink’s is to taste L.A. at its most democratic. Founded in 1939 by Paul Pink as a simple pushcart that sold hot dogs for 10 cents, Pink’s has become a dog institution whose subsequent fame is itself a Hollywood story. People will wait in line for up to an hour, which may seem extravagant, but the proof is in the weenie. Pink’s is quality doghouse fare, featuring a soft and flavourful chili and several strange combos (guacamole, bacon and polish sausage, anyone?) and specials named after celebrities (the Martha Stewart, no surprise, has sauerkraut). It’s a great place to see celebs – look carefully at those in ball caps and sunglasses – but it’s even more fun to spot character actors who will have you saying things like “Isn’t that the guy who played the banker in that episode of What I Like About You?” Despite the easy availability of Botox centres or whatever hot spot is being dubbed the Studio 54 of our time, the most dominant aspect of life in Los Angeles – that you have to drive everywhere – has, in some measure, prevented the phenomenon of East Coast-style gentrification. You know: those neighbourhoods where the old shops, which once housed turnip ven-dors and shoe repairmen, are now boutiques and coffee shops run by artistes who think of themselves as marginalized. Even in the hippest areas, there are still strip malls and gas stations and sky-high neon signs than can be seen by traffic a mile away. A boutique that sells designer surfwear can be found right across the street from a Jack in the Box drive-thru. Though Southern California freeway life was conceived as a nod to ultra-modernity, this has ironically kept L.A. looking as its automotive forebears first imagined it, giving the city an almost retro feel. Even Machos Tacos, which satisfies hungry Los Feliz hipsters, comes with a convenient car wash operation in the back. |
