Aron put me on to this spot. We were riding around in my stupid hot banana Porsche going to a 4th of July party at chef Michael McCarty’s crib. McCarty wasn’t even there, which was a flex. As we turned off Ocean onto the freeway, Aron pointed at Chez Jay and said, “You gotta go there. French dirtbag shit.” I took a mental picture and went back a few months later. When I saw that they had sand dabs on the menu, I literally pounded my fist on the table. I’m a big fan of flat fish, especially local flat fish like sand dabs that don’t really get shipped outside of Southern California. If you’ve seen Tequila Sunrise, Michelle Pfeiffer’s character has them on her restaurant’s menu, but the only places I’ve ever had sand dabs are Chez Jay, the old Pacific Dining Car (which Denzel made famous by recommending the baseball steak in Training Day), and a French restaurant by the old Interscope office in Santa Monica called Le Petit Chez Mimi, where I sold the screenplay for Boogie while eating sand dabs. Chez Jay’s sand dabs are my favorite—complete with a little egg batter, sliced almonds, and rice pilaf instead of green beans. They finish it with a lemon wedge and dirty parsley, which is erotic to an ’80s baby like me that grew up dining in restaurants that most likely had Le Cordon Bleu textbooks on the premises.
Carousel
This is one of those places in Los Angeles that has photos of the Kardashians up on the walls because apparently Kim Kardashian used to celebrate her birthday there. If you have the internet you know that she has not celebrated anything at Carousel for a very very long time, but perhaps it’s part of her dirtbag Los Angeles. If you have time to cross the hill into the Valley, there are several great restaurants like Mini Kabob or Persian spots like Nersses Van Nek, which has the best Dizi and Soltani Kabob, but Carousel has a special place in my heart because I could wake up, hit my bong, drop down the hill and be there in 10 minutes eating hummus with meat in basketball shorts with flip flops and socks on. There is zero vibe, no scene to speak of, and many times during lunch I was the only diner speaking English, which I loved.
Cinefile Video
I found this video store while driving to eat Japanese food on Sawtelle my first year living in Los Angeles and it became the place I went when I was really down. I could write 30,000 words about why life in Los Angeles is so lonely, but if you’re there and afflicted, it’s probably more helpful for me to give you the address to Cinefile. My favorite clerk, JP, moved back home, but everyone in the store is great and it’s one of only two video stores left in the city. I think people in the scene tend to like Vidiots more and it’s much more connected to the industry—but that’s why I prefer going to Cinefile, which is just about videos and the people who love them.
Whenever I tell people this is my favorite place to hang out in Los Angeles, they think I’m crazy and exclaim, “People still go to video stores?” Then I take them and they’re on the verge of tears because every pre-internet memory they’ve ever felt comes rushing back to their consciousness, reminding them about a time where you didn’t even know to care what other people thought. You just walked around a store and picked what spoke to you or talked to another person about what speaks to them. I love this spot so much that I proposed to my wife here and Photoshopped our faces onto the films we watched early on in our relationship.
Laurel Canyon Country Store
LOS ANGELES, CA – FEBRUARY 25: The Laurel Canyon Country store in Los Angeles, California on February 25, 2016. (Photo by Jim Steinfeldt/Michael Ochs Archives/Getty Images)Jim Steinfeldt/Getty Images