Two Stars

Pinky Brown’s Hot Dogs
905 N. La Brea Ave, Los Angeles, CA 90038

★★★★☆

My strategy was to get here early, because who wants to stand in line for an overpriced hot dog at 11:30 on a Tuesday morning? (Answer: a lot of people!). I ordered the Olive Dog, which was topped with feta cheese, pickled onion, and enough Kalamata olives to start an import-export business. Many reviewers are enamored with the Olive Dog, but I don’t see why. Decent taste, but nothing you couldn’t do yourself if you swung by the olive bar at Vons.

So why the four stars? The very thing that I thought was this place’s weakness—the inevitable line—turned out to be its strength. No, you don’t THINK you want to spend 40 minutes queuing up for a hot dog…but then you find yourself talking to the Australian couple in front of you, and soon they’re telling you about the three weeks they spent driving here from Florida in a Cruise America RV. Or chatting with the curly-haired blond girl behind you, who still carries a Lonely Planet Los Angeles in her purse after living here for three years.

There’s not a lot of seating, so be prepared to eat while standing. On the plus side, this might give you a second chance to talk to one of your new friends, like the curly-haired blond (she ordered the Mexico City Dog, which was topped with salsa verde, Cotija cheese, and cilantro-onion relish). In fact, the ersatz feeling of community is so strong that when the time comes to dump your olive-oil-stained plate into one of the abundant trash receptacles, you might even be bold enough to do something that would normally feel impossible: ask her for her number.

Sala Thai
5409 Hollywood Blvd, Los Angeles, CA 90027

★★★★★

Other reviewers have raved about the food, so I’m going to highlight an underrated aspect of this venerable Thai Town stalwart: it’s the perfect first date spot!

Ambiance: Classic “hole in the wall.” Aging tourism posters provide prompts for conversation about travel, which is an excellent way to sound impressive (“Does three months in Kenya count as ‘living abroad?’”). The portrait of the King of Thailand brings to mind The King and I and its subversive whiff of Victorian-era polygamy. A mural across the street commemorates Armenian genocide, which reminds you and your date that life is short and you might as well seize the day.

Food: Made to order in terms of spiciness, which gives you a chance to show off your manliness by insisting that you do indeed want “5 out of 5.” The colorful names of dishes (“Jungle Curry,” “Crying Tiger”) hint at illicit Southeastern Asian liaisons, and the mother-child reunion of chicken and egg in the Pad See Ew subconsciously evokes the eternal cycle of reproduction.

Drinks: BYOB, which allows you to impress your date by producing the bottle of wine you just “happened” to have in your car.

Dessert: None, but that’s okay, because you now have an excuse to head to Los Feliz for gelato. If the gelato place happens to be a few blocks from your apartment, all the better.

Cash only.

Maricel’s Mexican Restaurant
1580 W. Sunset Blvd, Los Angeles, CA 90026

★★★★★

Echo Park in the morning: hills splashed with bougainvillea. Hazy sunlight through the jacarandas. $8.99 chilaquiles at Maricel’s.

Linger at your table, sipping coffee and munching chips and salsa (included with the chilaquiles—so wrong, and yet so right). Then take a walk around the lake, holding hands. Stop and admire the lotuses. Life is beautiful!

Death Valley National Park
Death Valley, CA 92328

★★★★★

My girlfriend and I came here on our first road trip together. We enjoyed the desolate vistas of otherworldly landscapes, the harsh beauty of the earth laid bare. We also enjoyed the ample opportunities to lay bare on the earth. There are hundreds of miles of deserted back roads and trails, so bring plenty of water…and any other supplies you might need if you happen to find yourself alone in the desert. Furnace Creek holds the record for the highest temperature recorded on earth, so don’t be surprised if you feel a little hotter than usual. You are hundreds of miles from the nearest city, and on a moonless night, it’s possible to experience a true, pervasive darkness. That means you only have to walk a short distance from the parking areas to find privacy. Salt flats—ancient lake beds—are geological wonders that evoke the magical sweep of prehistory. They are also surprisingly soft and supple. The salt leaves whitish stains on clothing, so be sure to bring a blanket.

Open Mic Night @ Mrs. O’Leary’s
150 N. San Fernando Blvd, Burbank, CA 91502

★☆☆☆☆

This open mic is hosted at an Irish pub, because nothing says bombing on stage and generally failing at life like the green, white, and orange of the Irish flag. The organizers describe it as “music and comedy night,” but the joke turned out to be on anyone who was stupid enough to try and make a room full of aspiring American Idol contestants laugh. Yes, I came to do standup—and was a little nervous about it, frankly—but that’s all right, because you mumbled the word “cool.”

When I was finally called up, I tried to be a good sport. I started by acknowledging what was going on—“I forgot my guitar, so guess I’m gonna have to pretend to be funny”—not too bad, right? But the reaction was corpuscular. Stunned silence. I swear I even caught one girl roll her eyes.

With such a supportive audience, it was of course no problem to summon forth hilarious comedy. The only thing that prevented me from a hasty stop to pick up an exhaust hose was my girlfriend, Charlotte. She suffered through the spectacle with grace and encouragement. She even laughed as I stumbled through an abridged version of the Trojan joke. She’s heard it a dozen times before, but she laughed anyway. Not a forced laugh—this was the real deal—a surprised, almost guttural upwelling. As often as I’ve heard her laugh, I’m not sure it’s ever meant more to me.

If you’re reading this, Mom and Dad, good news: looks like I’m gonna stick to web design for some time to come.

Pinky Brown’s Hot Dogs (second review)
905 N. La Brea Ave, Los Angeles, CA 90038

★★★★★

When Charlotte suggested we get Pinky Brown’s after a hard day of schlepping boxes, I was unenthusiastic. Yes, Pinky Brown’s is where we met, I get the symbolism—but now you’re proposing we wait in an excruciatingly long line just so we can shell out $14 for a cleverly named hot dog?

Happily, first impressions can be deceiving. It turns out you can call ahead (who knew?), pick up your food (sans line!), and before you know it, you’re eating your first meal together on the hardwood floor of your new duplex.

Whoever readied our order, lovingly loaded our bag with everything we might need to begin our new life here: Sturdy plastic utensils. Napkins (so many napkins!). Mints to ease the inevitable post-wiener letdown. Charlotte ordered the Memphis Dog, which was resplendent with pulled pork, mustard slaw, and ribbons of bourbon sauce that glistened in the glow of our naked floor lamp. I went for the Berliner, which came topped with sauerkraut and bratwurst-studded currywurst sauce. It might sound like overkill to eat sausage on your sausage, but sometimes, when your cup is running over, the only thing to do is swallow down every delicious gulp.

El Guapo Taquería
4867 Santa Monica Blvd, Los Angeles, CA 90029

★★★★★

Drinks are consumed. Medicinal substances are smoked. Parking spaces come and go. But El Guapo is always there, just a few blocks away… because sometimes you need carne asada fries to share with your gf at 1:30 in the morning.

Chuck E. Cheese
10840 Venice Blvd, Culver City, CA 90232

★★☆☆☆

No, the genius of Chuck E. Cheese isn’t the pizza. It isn’t the skeeball, or the varsity squad animatronics, or even the plastic cups of beer mercifully available to adults. The sneaky genius of this place is the way it cuts through every delusion you’ve ever had about parenting. By evoking childhood in all its gooey awkwardness, Chuck E. Cheese has dropped the gauntlet of reproduction onto the sticky tile floor, forcing you to ask: do you really want to reach down and pick up that shit?

I came here for my cousin’s daughter’s birthday, because what parent could deny their child the disgusting spectacle of a party at Chuck E. Cheese? A glance at the menu reveals a few half-hearted concessions to the 21st century (chili wings!), but nobody from our party was brave enough to order them, so we were presented with an assortment of rapidly congealing pies defined by their singular toppings: Cheese. Sausage. Pepperoni.

I naively imagined Charlotte would be my ally in weathering the storm. Boy, was I wrong. It’s true, making fun of Chuck E. Cheese is the comedic equivalent of shooting watermelon in a barrel—but what else was I supposed to do? To answer your question, Charlotte: Yes, I have to make fun of everything.

And no, I don’t want to have kids.

Two stars for the beer and conversation with Robin the waitress, who gracefully walked the tightrope between the full-throated enthusiasm and irony her job requires. She told me she drives to Huntington Beach once a week to surf. “Sometimes I wear my suit under my uniform,” she happened to mention.

Point Dume State Beach
6800 Westward Beach Rd, Malibu, CA 90265

★★★★★

When the time came, this is where I was going to do it. A place that meant something to both of us, a place where we’d taken so many walks together across the ever-changing sand. I was going to wait until we were on top of Point Dume itself, the rocky promontory jutting into the ancient ocean. Then I would kneel like a cliché, an idiot, a romantic hero. No clapping patrons or free desserts. No pictures on Instagram. Just the two of us together, exposed in the wind.

Extended Stay America
20180 Yorba Linda Blvd, Yorba Linda, CA 92886

★★★★☆

Just because you’re newly single doesn’t mean you have to settle for a single bed! No, the rooms at Extended Stay Yorba Linda have been thoughtfully fitted with queens, which means you won’t have to give up certain ingrained habits (i.e. reaching across the bed to confirm no one’s texted you). They also allow you to fantasize, however improbably, about a bounce-back liaison.

Food? You’re a short distance from a cornucopia of options! Carl’s Jr., with its brassy posters and bad boy swagger. Panda Express, which allows you to indulge in the delusion you’re eating something healthy. El Pollo Loco, with its magical ability to transform a chicken thigh into a middle finger pointed at the White House.

But we mustn’t splurge all the time, which is why the unit is conveniently equipped with a kitchenette! There’s an empty refrigerator perennially set to 55 degrees, a glove-compartment-sized microwave, and a stove-like contraption with two “burners” that let you imagine, if only for a fleeting second, that you might actually cook a meal. There’s even a dented gray pot—a low-grade piece that makes Ikea cookware look fancy—but that’s okay, because this beauty can expertly handle the singular task it was put on this earth to perform: boil water for spaghetti.

After you’ve exhausted the ample diversions in town (Nixon Presidential Library), there’s plenty to do back at your room; the Wi-Fi is free, and so is your time! The long email continues to go unanswered, but that’s okay, because if you turn on the TV, there’s a brand-new episode of Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives!

Reply: Thank you for your visit to Extended Stay Yorba Linda! Extended Stay America prides itself on helping visitors feel as comfortable as possible, no matter what their relationship status; however, we would like to remind you that our staff cannot be held responsible for the mental health of our guests. In the event of a crisis, please consult the hotlines in the Orange County directory helpfully provided in your room.

Jojo’s Mountain Dogs
7269 E. Colfax, Denver, CO 80208

★★★☆☆

It took a while after starting over in a new city, but eventually, I was ready to try again. I downloaded all the apps, swiped through the parade of pictures, headed off to new parts of the city. Sometimes, I sampled beautiful dogs served by beautiful people in beautiful restaurants that lacked flavor; other times, I got stuck with dogs that had steamed too long and were wrinkled and sour (sorry, Mike’s Original Coney).

I had high hopes for JoJo’s, whose menu caught my eye with that certain spark missing from other mile-high pretenders to the Frankfurter Throne. JoJo’s specializes in house-stuffed sausages made with meats like bison (The Buffalo Bill), reindeer (The Santa Claus), or, in the case of the dog I decided to try (The Jackalope), a rabbit-pronghorn brat topped with Monterey Jack cheese and cantaloupe salsa.

It wasn’t bad. The meat was milder than I feared, and the salsa added a sweet-spicy kick that complemented the velvety richness of the cheese. If you’re looking for an exotic-game dog, you could do a lot worse than Jojo’s. But, as much as I wanted to love it, I didn’t; there was still something elusive, two crowning stars that just weren’t there. Some days I miss L.A. so much it hurts—I miss the bougainvillea and burritos, Thai Town and taquerías, the magical synergy of those two missing stars—but at least I know now how good a hot dog can taste.