A Dodger Dog Alternative

I had seen this on an episode of Huell Howser's PBS show. The program where he explores California and spends a half hour dwelling on a gum wrapper he found on Sunset Boulevard. There is a restaurant downtown right on the outskirts of Chinatown, which means there are no cats in the neighborhood. It is also an Andre Ethier throw from Dodger Stadium. The place is Phillipe's The Original and has been around since 1908.

Howser had told us that this was a traditional stop for Dodger fans to chow down before the game and has been since Dodger Stadium opened in 1962. News to me. And I thought I had all the Dodger traditions already in my back pocket. I needed to check this out.

We went before last Friday night's game against the Cubbies. They ain't kidding. The place looked like a runaway show for Dodger fashion. You walk into this hole in the wall and are immediately taken by the long counter and longer lines to boot. There's no waiter service in this "joynt." A diner version of the Goldwyn Girls works the counter. I doubt any one of them was under 50.

Allegedly, the French Dip Sandwich was invented here. Beyond that, there is a truckload of other comfort food: pickles, beets, deviled eggs, cole slaw, chili, beef stew. I saw a bunch of people walking away with trays of food that were also adorned by huge slabs of whipped cream-laden pies.

Since we were pressed by the clock, we opted for food to go. The lady behind the counter packed the meal with love. The only thing missing was a wet nap. I looked twice to make sure this wasn't my mother or grandmother working the night shift.

They dip the roll into some sort of au jus. I picked up the lingo from some of the regulars and heard them ask for single or double dips. I went for the double. It's amazing that, despite this liquidy manuever, the roll held up amazing well on my ham sandwich. The food made the 10 minute ride up the Chavez Ravine hill intact. This was nothing soggy about it as I opened up my dinner in Loge, Row 144, Seat 1.

The hell with the superlatives on the sandwich. You have to go for the potato salad alone. It was crack and cocaine dipped in chocolate.

This might turn into a regular habit depending upon the traffic patterns around the ballpark.

The sun was setting. Derek Lowe motored through the first inning. And the food was terrific.

Now I really believe I live in Los Angeles.

Dinner last night: eggplant parmagiana (again) at Maria's Italian Kitchen.