Fred 62

Is it possible to love a creation in spite of its creator? You have to admit that "Live Through This" rocked, even if Courtney Love is not the most likeable person on the planet. And Picasso wasn't exactly a nice guy. The same holds true for Fred Eric, one of the most controversial personalities on the LA food scene. I cannot say my one run-in with him, in which he almost ran me over with a motorcycle, exactly endeared him to me. His restaurants, as well as his personality, inspire love/hate relationships.

Fred 62, which was sort of sandwiched between Vida and the Airstream Diner, was like the Jan Brady of Fred Eric’s creations. But it may turn out to be his longest lasting legacy. On the hippest street in town, Fred 62 has managed to hold its own for ten years. It seems that Fred 62 is becoming an old standby. Quite a feat for something so gimmicky.

The location is hip, the servers are hip, and the clientele is most definitely hip - it's almost a little annoying. The interior is slick and cool. The of-the-moment car culture seats are a nice spin on the usual 50s diner décor. Fred 62 is, in essence, a diner, spun through Fred Eric's brain, where it rolled around with a little punk rock and your mom's apple pie. The hipness and smugness are tolerable, because when it comes down to it, Fred Eric, is a culinary genius. Even if he can't seem to stay with a project (including Fred 62), he can sure develop an interesting menu. The language he uses to describe the food is whimsical in an overly self-aware kind of way, peppered with in-jokes and pedantic plays on words, like the "Charles Bukowski", which doesn't quite work because it is not actually a ham on rye. Sometimes diversity can be the hallmark of a bad restaurant. But between the Asian noodles, the American comfort food and the crazy vegan fare, Fred 62's variety fits the funky neighborhood. There is something for everyone.

Personally, I get cravings for their BBQ Beef Royale fortnightly, and would walk a mile for the apple "punk tart". The BBQ Beef Royale is brisket at its finest, slathered with an addictive BBQ sauce that carries a slight kick. The bun can barely contain the massive chunks of meat. This sandwich is only to be eaten when you are feeling seriously carnivorous. Fashioned to look like a pop tart, the Apple Punk Tart is really a southern hand pie. The apple filling comes from genuine apples and is not overly sweet. It is the filling my grandmother would have made. The crust is perfect, balancing a little bit of shortbread's buttery heft with a lightness of a puff pastry. If I could make a pastry like that, I would quit my job and travel the state fair circuit winning blue ribbons for my apple pie.

There are often complaints of bad service and "tude" levied against Fred 62. I actually prefer their servers' superior attitude to having some overly caffeinated cheerleader pretending to be my best friend. But then again, I spent my formative years in punk rock slam pits and I don't mind getting up and hunting down my server when it's called for. I have gotten just as much attitude for a lot more money at restaurants like like L'Orangerie.

Regardless of the controversy surrounding Fred Eric, underneath all of the hip and the hype, Fred 62 is what it is - just a neighborhood joint with good people serving good food. I think that is what has given this place such a loyal following in the dog-eat-dog world of "that place is so last week". Fred 62's 15 minutes of hipness ran out a long time ago. Yet there are still people willing to stand outside for a half an hour just to get a table. In the rain.

Fred 62 1850 North Vermont Ave. Los Angeles (323) 667-0062. Open 24-hours.

Meet Me at 3rd and Fairfax: DuPars

DuPar's has been a Farmer's Market institution since 1938. The Naylor family, as in Tiny Naylor's, reopened this location in December after what appear to be minor renovations, primarily the removal of the counter and the addition of an outdoor dining patio. Holding down the Southwest corner of the Farmer's Market, DuPars can be accessed through a secret back alleyway from the food court.

DuPars is one of those places that has made being trapped in a time warp cool. The pies are the same, the menu is the almost the same, and the waitresses are still wearing the same trippy old-fashioned uniforms.



DuPar's is known for their pancakes, but the real draw here is the pie. I have never had a real meal at this location. I have eaten at the Studio City location and wasn't that impressed. It was all your basic grub, nothing wrong with it, but nothing spectacular. The pies ARE spectacular. Like most places that you frequent often, I have a "route" that I travel through the Farmer's Market. It always starts with a catfish sandwich at the Gumbo Pot, and on special occasions, it ends at the outdoor to-go pie counter at DuPar's. Pies glisten like jewels under the glass, and the splurge is often irresistible. Luckily they sell some cute little mini-pies so you don't have to go whole-hog if you are guilty and indecisive. DuPars is willing to meet you half-way.

The other day I picked up a mini cherry cheesecake. The center is creamy and light; it is not a dense cheesecake. But it's not a bunch of whipped fluff either. It is just right. Even though they are smaller in diameter, the little pies are the standard height, so it cut up nicely into four normal-sized slices. Although there was some bickering as to the evenness of those slices.

Pie 'n Burger

I have been hearing about Pie 'n Burger for some time now. In the same location since 1963, it often receives votes for the best burger in LA and is known for its strawberry pie. In fact, Pie 'n Burger has been around so long that its diet plate of a burger patty, peach slices and cottage cheese has actually come into vogue again.

Today I finally had a meeting in Pasadena, not a quarter mile away from the place. Pie 'n Burger appears to be an unassuming little box from the outside, but once inside, you are transported back in time to a little old-fashioned California coffee shop, circa Nick at Nite. When the friendly waitress asked me what I wanted, I said, "Well, I guess I better have a pie n burger." She laughed gaily, as if I was the first person who had ever said such a thing. I was placing my order to go, but when she rattled off a list of about twenty-five different kinds of pie, my mind was blown. I thought, "Well, I'd better get a slice for my husband too". And when I thought about a slice of blueberry pie, it seemed like a sin to have it un a la mode, which would not have traveled well. So I did what I tend to do when faced with a wide array of choices - I ordered one old standard - banana cream pie, plus something daring - butterscotch. Then I asked for a slice of blueberry pie, heated, a la mode, to eat while I waited for them to cook my burger.

They asked me how I wanted my burger cooked, which was refreshing in this age of "always-cook-the hell-out-of-it-to avoid-food-poisoning". They grill their onions, so I asked for onions, ketchup and mayo. Burgers come standard with big leaves of iceberg lettuce, pickles, and thousand island dressing, so I went with it.

When my pie arrived, it could not have looked better tied with a giant bow. The flaky crust was fairly bursting with blueberries, and the entire pie was collapsing from the weight of two massive scoops of ice cream. The filling was especially sweet, and needed the balance of the cool vanilla ice cream. As I ate my pie, I chatted with the charming waitress. I liked the way her eyes shone when she talked about candy. Her slight Texas accent and wide-eyed charm, coupled with the old formica counter transported me back to a time and place when things were simpler. Not the actual, olden days when everything actually kind of sucked for most people, but an imaginary, romanticized "good old days" like you see on TV. As I dug into my purse for dollar bills to pay for the spontaneous added expense of three slices of pie, the waitress said, "That's OK if you don't have it." I did, but talk about the halcyon days of yore!

When I got home, the burger had cooled, but that did not affect its deliciousness in the least. It was dripping with a delicious, messy mix of condiments, the patty was charred and juicy, and the crunchy lettuce and sweet pickle made me kind of nostalgic. I don't remember the bun at all. I scarfed it down too fast to even notice. It wasn't memorable, which is maybe what the bun should be - just a vehicle for getting all of the other stuff into your mouth.

The cream pies were the worse for wear from the trip home. About and hour and a half after leaving the restaurant, the butterscotch pie had started to melt into a pool of unappetizing syrup. The banana cream pie held up better, but was more sweet than flavorful. Plus, I'm not big on meringue on cream pies - just my personal preference. So I would say, go for the hamburgers, go for the fruit pies, and definitely go for the good service and ambiance. If I lived nearby, Pie 'n Burger would probably be my home away from home.

They also serve breakfast. Oh, and as an added bonus, Pie n Burger has a wine shop in back. You can buy a bottle of wine or champagne and open it at your table to enjoy with your dinner. Might I suggest a nice Zinfandel to go with your chili size, and how about a Syrah for the rhubarb pie? Pie'n Burger 913 E. California Blvd. Cash and checks only. http://www.pienburger.com/index.htm