Recommendation: Pie 'N Burger
Sanctuary.
Recommendations are like reviews, but not. I am not a critic; I’m a guy who likes to tell people where he likes to eat, and why he likes to eat there. That’s all. I recommend you eat at Pie ‘N Burger.
In LA, it feels strange to describe a restaurant simultaneously as “iconic” and “frill-less.” “Historic” and “staid.” “Influential” and “barebones.” Places that are that important to the city often have some sort of hype about them, some kind of following, a line out the door on the weekends, at least. The most hype and modernity Pie ‘N Burger has is its website. That’s a wonderful thing.
Pie ‘N Burger in Pasadena is among the last of the old sandwich counter joints from Old Los Angeles, a close sibling to The Apple Pan and…well, The Apple Pan. Enter on a sleepy weekday afternoon and behold first the serious “Cash Only,” sign on the register; the mostly-unnecessary, wall-sized menu; the grill, housed in a built-in decorative shack sitting smack in the middle of the restaurant; and most notably the 50’s wavy Formica countertop running nearly the entire length of the dining room, from the sunny front window to the dim booths in back. The regular clientele is on a first-name basis, and I’d stake a week’s wages that most of them move on to the Smitty’s, Parkway Grill, or Arroyo Chophouse bars come sunset; other local haunts with the feel of old, smoky luxury (also the feel of dining at the country club). Pie ‘N Burger hasn’t changed a step of its slow pace for decades, and I hope it never needs to.
I said there was a “mostly-unnecessary, wall sized menu.” As it happens, Pie ‘N Burger serves a fairly wide selection of sandwiches and salads in addition to its eponymous offerings. I’m sure they’re all fine, some likely better than. However, unless you are one of the aforementioned regulars, you are here for two extraordinarily obvious items. In fact, despite the unmissable existence of an entire menu, the server will probably open proceedings with, “Onions?” By which she means, “For the burger you’re about to order, do you want your onions raw or grilled, if any at all?” That can, if you want, be the extent of the conversation, unless you need to get something else, like a drink, and you’d better do it quick because so much as wiggle an eyelash and she’s gone. Become a regular, and you get to chat. Come in looking like a glassy-eyed conventioneer — or god forbid, a foodie — and it’s all business. Later, when there’s only a bit of bread and lettuce, a ball of wax paper, and a scattering of fries on your plate, she’ll make one more appearance to inquire about dessert. The answer is “yes:” What the hell are you doing here otherwise? There is not one specific pie you should get; any will do, all are great, none probably the best you’ll ever have. Certainly, it will fill the pie-shaped hole in your appetite that brought you to this particular lunchtime Pasadena stool in the first place.
And now, a brief description of the food, for the sali-philes: Picture a standard In-N-Out Double-Double, but better in a few critical ways. The bun is essentially the same, as are the veggies, though there is approximately twice as much lettuce, unshredded and crisp (whether that’s a star or demerit is up to your personal taste). The Thousand Island is Thousand Island. But the burger is meatier, greasier, and cheesier than In-N-Out’s California standard, and that makes a comprehensively satisfying difference. When it arrives, it looks like everything in Pie ‘N Burger looks: classic, a little plain, and utterly uninterested in what you think of it, wrapped in wax paper and surrounded by fresh-fried but unsalted french fries (there’s plenty of salt handy). The first bite immediately reminds just how refreshing a classic can be. The Pie N Burger burger isn’t elevating anything, has no gimmicks, no carefully crafted language describing the preparation of the burger or the pre-demise lifestyle of the meat, isn’t trying to stand out amongst the crowd of smashburgers or feigning the sophistication of a Father’s Office or fine dining burger. It’s what the rest are trying so hard, often too hard to be — something more memorable than the sum of beef and cheese and bun — without trying at all, because it is the template. It’s just plain good.
The pies could be described similarly — a little blunt and straightforward like what you find at House of Pies, made approximately 100x better by the wallop of house-whipped cream oozing over the top. You could, and should, ask no more of a pie than this. Again, any pie that catches your eye will almost certainly do what you need it to do (i.e. be good pie).
Pie ‘N Burger, man. For those allergic to the seemingly inescapable LA food scene, consider this a sanctuary.