A Kick in the Ribs
A Kick in the Ribs
I live in a neighborhood called Valley Glen (formerly East Van Nuys). I'm guessing civic pride in the Glen is high since the 'hood's power brokers take the time to send out a little green pamphlet every few months called the Valley Glen Voice.
It's a quaint little eight-page, green-tinted newsletter, basically a two-minute, 30-second read, at best. But before the fall edition made its way to my recycling bin, a front-page story jumped out at me. The headline read “Welcome to Walgreens.” Oh, shit. Another drugstore. Who knew there was such a demand for one-hour photo service?
But what really ate at me was learning that the new drugstore (located mere blocks from Walgreens on Coldwater) is moving into the space on Victory Boulevard currently occupied by the venerable Chris' & Pitt's restaurant. NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!
C&P may not serve the best 'Q in the Valley, but you can't deny its many decades of history; yet, in about a year's time, all that'll linger will be sauce-stained shirts and memories. Little by little, the weathered old liver spots on the Valley's face are getting dermabrasioned in whitewash.
And it hurts. Of course, Valley 'Q can't compare to its brethren in Texas, St. Louis, or even Oakland, but it will forever be a craving I must fight – hard – to suppress. Barbecue is in my blood.
When my family landed in Sepulveda in the summer of '73, we quickly discovered the smoked gold cooked up at Dr. Hogly Wogly's in Van Nuys. A Three-Way from the good doctor went a long way in our cramped apartment (especially when Mom was going through one of her no-food-and-Diet-Pepsi diets).
Hogly's ruled the Valley then and now, but Chris' & Pitt's carried some heavy weight as well. It had the added mystique of selling its special brand of sauce (hickory, baby) in supermarkets. Just like Bob's Big Boy and its outtasight blue cheese dressing, That, to me, was the big time.
Additionally, the Pitt's is “Home of the Live Wood Fire.” Hell, yeah, it is. It's a rough-hewn roadhouse proudly lacking the effete affectation of today's uptight trendoid chow palaces. It's a Fred Flintstone scene, full of ravenous barbarians at the gates of hunger, anxious to gnaw on a rack. And you're going to get messy. You finish your meal not with a cappuccino, but with a toothpick and multiple Wet-Naps in foil containers. For me, Chris' & Pitt's served as a gut-busting booze sponge before a long night of longnecks down the road a stretch at the Palomino (R.I.P.).
Like I said, this hurts … another artery in the throughline of my life snapped without anesthesia. A historic landmark gutted for a goddamn chain drugstore. The news instantly turned me into a concerned member of the community. What is happening to my neighborhood? Valley Glen is going the way of Times Square!
Those who work there didn't have a clue. “We hear rumors,” a night manager told me. “But I don't really know anything.” I rang the corporate office. “I can't really comment on it,” said a drone named Peggy. How messed up is this? The deal is apparently done, yet the employees don't know, and the suits aren't talking.
I did, however, get some info from Asta Criss, the president of the Valley Glen Neighborhood Association. She told me the restaurant and its adjoining bar and liquor store will face the wrecking ball by year's end, simply because Chris' & Pitt's owner is getting up in years and wants to enjoy retirement. And, apparently, I'm not the only one who's bemoaned our community's great loss. “I tell everybody, go in and get your ribs now while you still have a chance to get them,” she said.
But mostly, she seemed genuinely pleased that Walgreens has promised to clean up the riff-raff that clings to bars and liquor stores. But what's a little grime in the name of good grub?
It's just business as usual in Suburbland. But we don't have to stand idly by. Fight the power. Fight Wonder Bread gentrification. Raise a rib to Chris' & Pitt's.Published: 10/16/2003
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