The only bright spots in my days of drudgery were lunches at the city’s best and now long-gone downtown stands and restaurants. What I wouldn’t give for one more corned beef sandwich at Allen’s sandwich shop, or an OG hamburger at Red’s where fresh ground patties were piled with grilled sweet onions. Sometimes I would dash down to Paul’s Chinese Kitchen (still open, actually) for wor won ton soup and BBQ pork. But still standing is the soon-to-be-reopened Pantry Cafe on Figueroa Street, a film noir diner that for 96 years, until Covid, never had a lock on the door and could boast that they were never closed or without a customer.

As soon as I stepped through those doors, the rush of chilled air started to unglue my sodden clothes from my overheated self. I’d slide into a seat right in front of the giant flat top. On the side of the grill were two cast iron pans crisping home-fried potatoes that were going to be piled next to whatever dish was going to be my pleasure. There were cuts of steak for working men at working men’s prices; large, juicy, and if not the most marbled slabs, they carried the flavor of a grill that built up a seasoning over decades. Whatever else I ordered, it was, in those first few cooling-down moments, that the suffering from my hot work fell away. First came a dewy glass of freshly brewed iced tea with a big wedge of fresh lemon, and a pile of coleslaw, and sourdough bread and butter.

I loved that coleslaw. It was a perfectly balanced slaw of shaved tender, light green cabbage dressed with a fusion of garlic and onions, vinegar, and sugar, not in a glop of mayonnaise, but perfectly robed in a light sauce which I would fleck with black pepper. I’d give it a quick toss, and then the joy of that first crunchy chilled bite, followed by a chaw of butter-sweetened chewy crust and a deep quaff of lemony iced tea. The lights in my eyes would dim, and sounds fell away.

I am told that there will be surprises when The Pantry reopens. But, more than joining fellow gastronauts to the next fusion-superstar-chef’s hyped “newest project,” I look forward to sliding into my seat across from the grill, with all its charm, century-old vibe, waiters who would rather bustle than smile, and the slaw and sourdough amuse-bouches. At a time when so many other comforting touchstones have passed, what a wonderful re-gift this is to LA culture as was willed to us by Richard Reardon, The Pantry’s long-time caretaker and protector. May those doors to The Pantry remain open for another 100 years.

Neal Flaster
August 2026