In recent years, the Los Angeles food scene has largely become known for restaurants covertly hiring influencers for TikTok, pop-ups with egregiously long lines and overpriced small plates are what the Los Angeles\u2019 food scene has become known for.<\/p>\n
Also, the closure of long-time L.A. institutions Angelenos have frequented for decades.<\/p>\n
Practical Historian and native Angeleno Jake Hook has documented these sorts of classic L.A. dining spots for around three years. After finishing his PHD in New York, Hook traveled across the country from New York to the San Francisco area by car and became fascinated with America\u2019s most identifiable roadside attractions: classic diners.<\/p>\n
In 2023, Hook started his Instagram account @dinertheory<\/a> to document these institutions across Southern California. His account, adorned with photos of neon signs and dark old-school Hollywood interiors, includes detailed captions about an establishment that are honest yet empathetic. From East-meets-West celebrity hangouts like Formosa Cafe, to midcentury relics like Cindy\u2019s Coffee shop, Hook has documented it all.\u00a0<\/p>\n \u201cThe Formosa was one of the most popular of these landmarks, but its reputation was as a place where the rich and famous could sort of lay low. While spots like Perino\u2019s or Chasen\u2019s was where celebrities went to be seen, the Formosa was where they let their hair down and relaxed over mai tais and Chinese food.\u201d<\/p>\n @dinertheory<\/a><\/p>\n That said, Hook doesn\u2019t really do much influencing. His fascination with documenting restaurants goes back at least a decade. He began keeping a list of places he wanted to try, or had already tried and enjoyed, and shared it with his friends. They urged him to use this information for good, so during the COVID-19 pandemic, he created a map marking locals\u2019 favorites, cult classics and what he deems \u201c101 L.A. legends.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAll these places were closing and I wanted to, once I was able to go out, experience these places,\u201d Hook said. \u201cI wanted to track the ones that were still open.\u201d<\/p>\n Everything Changed After 9\/11<\/p>\n When Hook isn\u2019t sitting on some form of a leather cushion at home or a restaurant, he\u2019s off teaching at a job completely unrelated to porcelain plates and country fried steak: associate professor of philosophy at California State University, Fullerton. Although not explicit, you can tell how the study influences the way he observes dining history.<\/p>\n Scroll to continue reading<\/p>\n Hook has a (sometimes) strict pre-21st century policy when it comes to reviewing restaurants. He claims that the way that people relate to food, restaurants and culture has \u201cdramatically changed with the course of the internet.\u201d And it\u2019s not in a good way.<\/p>\n Hook attributes the homogeneous character of uncomfortable chairs, white walls and exposed brick seen in so many restaurants these days to the shift in culture after the 2001 New York terrorist attacks.<\/p>\n \u201cThere was a turning point [with] 9\/11 where culture in America became wildly distorted from what it was before,\u201d Hook said, citing his argument to the work of theorist Mark Fisher.<\/p>\n On the other hand, he added, the 21st century became heavily nostalgia-based, and it soon bled into dining culture.<\/p>\n Careful not to further beat a dead horse, Hook spoke about how some restaurants like Donna\u2019s in Echo Park lack authenticity. While he doesn\u2019t think the food is inherently bad, it attempts to capture the feeling of what a homestyle Italian red-sauce restaurant looks like. However, he says, the difference with Donna\u2019s is that there isn\u2019t anything Italian about it.<\/p>\n \u201cThere\u2019s no Italian family behind it, you don\u2019t even have a nona in the kitchen,\u201d Hook said. \u201cIt all feels focused, grouped. [It\u2019s] what people would want to see from something like that without really an understanding of why that image exists in the first place.\u201d<\/p>\n In this case, it really isn\u2019t about the food, but what the food is trying to convey. In some regard, the same goes for diners. The difference is a diner and many other historic eateries aren\u2019t going to try and convince you it\u2019s the best thing you\u2019ve ever eaten. A trendy restaurant will.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m interested in looking for the inspiration behind [the restaurant], the things that really have that substance,\u201d Hook said, recounting the tacky sock-hop diners from the \u201980s during his travels. \u201cIt always comes down to the personal human touch, the guy who doesn\u2019t know how to paint, hand painting his sign for his restaurant just because it\u2019s out of necessity.\u201d<\/p>\n Historically, Diners Are Political<\/p>\n During the Civil Rights Movement, young Black men and women conducted \u201csit-ins\u201d as a form of nonviolent protest. Waitressing in diners became a viable option for women to make money. Politicians making their campaign rounds are usually pictured enjoying a full American breakfast while chatting with the everyman blue-collar worker. Hook argues that diners hold just as much historical significance and influence on society as any other cultural institution.<\/p>\n However, they\u2019ve lost popularity over the years. There isn\u2019t one overarching reason as to why this may be, but instead a number of factors, including: chain fast-food on every corner, increased access to delivery, rising costs to dine out, dishes with debateably-deserved social media hype or the demographic of a neighborhood changing.<\/p>\n Hook attributes one of the reasons that these institutions lack business is that regulars have disappeared, that there isn\u2019t the same micro-community mentality anymore and loyalty isn\u2019t what it used to be.<\/p>\n \u201cDiners are really a kind of living museum of American culinary history,\u201d Hook said. \u201cIt\u2019s just a place where you can kind of slow down and gather with people, it\u2019s a unique third space.\u201d<\/p>\n To combat this alienation, Hook started the Diner Preservation Society, a monthly association where individuals meet up to patronize a classic L.A. institution. The society is a mix between an advocacy group and a supper club, although leaning more toward the latter than the former. Its purpose is to bring that community back to diners while learning about why the business is important to L.A.<\/p>\n \u201cThe diner contains a lot of promise and a lot of potential, and to that extent that we\u2019re all still grappling with alienation and loneliness, I think the Diner Preservation Society can help fund a place for yourself in the modern urban landscape,\u201d Hook said.<\/p>\n The Unspoken Language of Who Really Belongs<\/p>\n Incongruous restaurants, coffee shops or bakeries popping up across L.A. is not inherently a bad thing, but it does send a message. Unfortunately, it isn\u2019t about bringing wealth into the neighborhood by means of overpriced seared cabbage, but instead, signaling to those who can afford it, \u201cHey, you belong here. They don\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n One restaurant in particular, Hook says, that portrays this vibe is Sqirl, the trendy Virgil Village cafe that rose from the ashes after its 2020 moldy jam scandal.<\/a><\/p>\n \u00a0\u201cIf outlets that just a few short years ago were willing to condemn the restaurant for their refreshingly relaxed, easygoing approach to food safety are wowed enough to change their tune, perhaps this little bistro is worth revisiting after all.\u201d<\/p>\n @dinertheory<\/a><\/p>\n \u201cYou can do whatever you want to bring people in, but the way you designed your restaurant contains nothing familiar to the people who lived in that neighborhood before [gentrification].\u201dThe working Salvadoran mother could go in and buy some toast, but they don\u2019t. Why is that? Part of it is because it\u2019s expensive, and part of it is the visual language of the place.\u201d<\/p>\n In other words, Hook argues that places like Sqirl communicate to longtime Angelenos that this place isn\u2019t for you. You can come, but just know it isn\u2019t for you.<\/p>\n \u201cNothing about Sqirl is intentionally saying, \u2018Previous residents, you\u2019re not allowed to come here.\u2019 But they don\u2019t, and I think there are very identifiable reasons for that,\u201d Hook explained, not wanting to harp too much on transplants.<\/p>\n The difference with classic diners, he says, is that they are explicitly catered for the neighborhood they reside in, and oftentimes evolve with the neighborhood. While diner food is usually considered to be pancakes and patty melts, it would be difficult to find a diner in Los Angeles that doesn\u2019t serve chiliquilies.<\/p>\n The \u201cI Am The Gatekeeper That Lets You In\u201d Mentality<\/p>\n Hook doesn\u2019t believe in hidden gems because a seemingly off-the-beaten-path place to one person is another local\u2019s go-to spot for years. He noted that people are conditioned to relate to food as a way of interacting with a community, but the extent of their interaction ends after they pay the check at establishments not neighborhood-minded.<\/p>\n \u201cYou might not spend much time in the community walking around, patronizing local businesses or talking with locals,\u201d Hook said. \u201cYou\u2019re just there to tick off the box, take the Instagram picture and get out of there.\u201d<\/p>\n Because of this mindset, people overlook the commerce diversity L.A. has to offer. That said, Hook noticed that people are no longer afraid to go below the 10 freeway, something that was once unthinkable for L.A. yuppies.<\/p>\n Additionally, he says that people are more willing to branch out, and that they\u2019re \u201cnot afraid of their neighbors anymore.\u201d Unfortunately, it isn\u2019t enough. \u201cIt\u2019s still fairly surface level engagement that ultimately plays a role in gentrification, if [a restaurant] becomes about the hotspot and not about the community which it originally served.\u201d<\/p>\n Hook isn\u2019t a pessimist and does believe it is okay for a neighborhood to change. However, when something evolves, it still has the remnants of what it once was. New diners interacting with longtimers is a good thing \u2014 just don\u2019t pretend you discovered where to get the best fried fish in the city.<\/p>\n Out of the hundreds of places Hook has patronized, he finds himself consistently returning to Original Tommy\u2019s off Beverly Boulevard. He also has a mission to try every item on Musso & Frank\u2019s menu (which, unfortunately for him, includes calf\u2019s sweetbreads). And if you are interested in saving old-school L.A. and meeting the diner connoisseur himself, consider checking out his Diner Theory Instagram<\/a> and the Diner Preservation Society<\/a>. You may just find your new spot to become a regular.<\/p>\n