saturday, june 12, 2004
Original Blah Blah
It was around 12:30 am, Mister Kyle and I were hungry, and I had some money, so we decided to go to the Original Pantry Cafe. In the way of many LA things, bits of knowledge about the Pantry had seeped into my brain: it’s owned by former mayor Richard Riordan (along with the parking lot across the street), it’s old, it’s popular, and it’s open late.
It’s also small, crowded, and noisy. The menu is on the walls, arranged in various red placards and chalkboards. A little while after we sat down, we got sweet, runny coleslaw, and later, we got hot slices of toasted-fried sourdough. I didn’t see much vegetarian stuff on the posted menus. An old, half-deaf (or maybe it was the noisiness) waiter eventually appeared. I asked for pancakes and Mister Kyle wanted a cheese omelette.
My pancakes were all fluffy and nice. I put some butter on them and they just soaked it up. Mister Kyle didn’t like his omelette much because it was made with american cheese, but I thought his mashed potatoes were good. They had this little burnt crust on the top…mmm.
The atmosphere was interesting and good. The place is almost shaped like a pantry, in my imagination: long and narrow and a little greasy and full of stuff. Bunches of semi-young people sat at tables and talked animatedly. The kitchen people cooked in partial view — I watched them replace part of a stove. Waiters rushed back and forth, dropping off coleslaw and bread and barely looking at you.
I liked the casualness, but the place wasn’t as spectacularly wonderful as general opinion seems to think.
