Forget It, Jake
It’s not Chinatown
By Richard Foss
The restaurant has two rooms. One dining area is modern and hip, a pleasant place in a post-industrial way, old brick and new sounds and casual style. The other is straight out of a Philip Marlowe novel, oozing seedy, mysterious Oriental charm. It’s a stunning space unlike any other in L.A., an authentic survival from seven decades ago.
Guess which room is packed and which is empty. No surprise. The unique one, the one that ought to have landmark status, was deserted when we arrived at the Chop Suey Cafe & Lounge. We walked through the high-ceilinged room with its archaic wood-framed booths and fading pictures of Chinese landscapes, a place as silent as a museum or a film set after the director has called “cut” and the technicians have fled to the canteen. While my companions mused over a long-outdated calendar from a noodle company, I walked to the back and followed a corridor, searching for someone who could tell me whether the place was actually open. Just past the restrooms was a tiny, colorful bar, and just past that was the other dining area, the one with all the activity. It was actually an interesting scene, an indoor/outdoor patio that hosted a crowd of twenty-somethings sipping fancy drinks and eating bar snacks. A fine environment when I’m in the mood for a lively evening, but that night I was more interested in time-machining to the 1930s. I found a server who confirmed that we could dine where we wanted, and he promised to send someone over.
The person who showed up bearing menus was apparently one of the cooks, a friendly middle-aged man who seemed happy that someone appreciated the place. We had already ordered hot tea when he mentioned the Belgian ale selection. I canceled my tea in favor of a murky, hoppy brew. Apparently some things about this restaurant were keeping up with the times.
A scan of the menu showed we were in fact in the present, and not a Dashiell Hammett past; there were garlic wasabi fries, pad Thai, and Singapore noodles. We liked the sound of the fries ($4.95), so ordered them and some egg rolls for starters. Those fries were excellent, hot and crisp, drizzled with a delicious wasabi aioli. The egg rolls were conventional, but well-made – vegetables and shrimp in a crisp skin, commendably greaseless and flavorful. Of course, it was no surprise that everything we had tasted was fresh, since the cook was bringing them straight from the kitchen. We hadn’t had our own personal chef in a while, and oh, we did like it.
We had mentioned we’d like hot and sour soup even though it wasn’t on the menu, and it appeared within minutes of our request. At $6.95 for enough to serve four, having that personal chef isn’t reserved for Oprah. It wasn’t the very best hot and sour I’ve ever eaten, but it was better than some I’ve had at twice the price. The eggplant with hot garlic sauce ($7.95) fit the same pattern – nothing that would scare Monterey Park restaurateurs, but as good as most restaurants in Chinatown despite a location in Little Tokyo.
We had to taste the offering the restaurant was named for, and though I don’t usually order this bland American-Chinese dish, I figured that since it has been on the menu since 1933, this was probably the place to try it. It was shrimp chop suey, a giant portion for $9.95. It was about what I remember, fresh vegetable flavors and assorted meats in a mild, transparent sauce, pleasant, simple home cooking. I might not order chop suey for another 10 years, but if anybody asks where to get it, I’ll know where to point them for the definitive Los Angeles version.
Our meal finished and leftovers packed, we strolled past the statues of Buddha and landscapes one more time, peeked into the tiny, colorful bar in a rear alcove, and then went on our way. It had been a good meal, not a great one, but in a setting so enjoyable that I know I’ll take people there just to enjoy the movie set style of the place. If we can rustle up some snappy pinstripe suits for the gentlemen and vintage cocktail dresses for the ladies, you can tell Mr. DeMille that we’re ready for our close-ups.
Chop Suey, 347 First St., downtown. Open daily for dinner only – hours seem to vary erratically. Full bar, pay parking across the street. Phone is only occasionally answered – if you feel lucky, try (213) 617-9990.
Published: 09/03/2008
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