Last month I sang the praises of many L.A. delis to prove that we've got power lunch nosh spots as good as any New York one. Not to mention celebrity sightings galore. But it didn't feel right to simply give Canter's a passing mention, given my one-sided love affair with the place. And when I say one-sided, I mean it. They are renown for their "aging waitresses from hell." Love them.
While I've never sampled it myself, I hear crack is quite addicting. And if one could transform the feeling of well-being it gives a person into an actual flavor, it would be the steak fries and ranch dressing at Canter's. To call it addicting would be an understatement. The false sense of well-being it provides is the reason why I treat myself to the place on my birthday. I'm sure part of the warm and fuzzy feeling comes from the vintage interior, almost reminiscent of a big cafeteria or truck stop from the 50's. Giant booths that swallow you up, lots of brown, lots of orange. And I love the sound of clinking classes and silverware in a large room. Except at weddings, where you're wearing Spanx, which physically restrict you from feeling true bliss.
Plus, Guns N' Roses got their start in Canter's Kibitz room, where they played regularly at the beginning of their career. In case you've been living in a cave for the past quarter century, that's huge.