I was sitting recently in a new, edgy, modernist, somewhat quirky steakhouse called The Steak Library (1937 Pacific Coast Hwy., Lomita; 424-263-5373, www.steakslibrary.com), which is on one side of a mini mall on PCH in Lomita, just a few doors down from a Subway.
I guess it’s a “library” because when you enter, there’s a wall of cuts of meat — Wagyu with names like Miyazaki and Hida; USDA Prime filet, ribeye, tomahawk and more; four dry-aged steaks, including an A5 Wagyu. In other words … major meat.
And yet, the place did not look like a steakhouse. It did not feel like a steakhouse. It reminded me that there are certain old school elements of steakhouse that I need to find beefy soul satisfaction.
In this case, I was not happy to find the Wagyu beef tartare served with what seemed like nondescript supermarket crackers. Service was … slow. As an apology, I was offered a small bowl of peanuts with a Ghirardelli chocolate square on top. “On the house,” I was told.
In recent years, our steakhouse scene has exploded — with places that really feel like proper steakhouses. Which is to say, a sense of age. A high level of professionalism. Serious side dishes: a world-class Caesar salad, a major shrimp co*cktail, chopped shrimp mixed with a creamy sauce, killer co*cktails (without gimmicks!) and great bread, crusty and sour, with butter you can eat like a condiment. And, yes, if there’s a steak tartare, it’s served with bread crisped in-house.
There are new hot spots, including Pacific Standard Prime and The Rex in Redondo Beach; Eddie V’s and in El Segundo; The Arthur J, Boa and Slay Steak in Manhattan Beach. But still, they have a sense of “new” about them.
For me, that quality of age needs time to ripen, to mature, to become part of the décor and the paintings and the carpeting. Which is why we are honored to have two of the grandest old steakhouses in California. Places with a deep-seated sense of age. They may not offer obscure cuts of Wagyu and Kobe. But, bless ’em, they’ve been around. You can taste it in every sip of that very dry gin martini.
The San Franciscan (2520 Sepulveda Blvd., Torrance; 310-325-5231, www.the-sanfranciscan.com) dates back to 1963 — what would be the new kid on the block in terms of New York or San Francisco, but pretty venerable down here. At The San Franciscan, the drinks lean toward brownish liquids over ice, and the crowd at the bar looks as if they don’t often see the light of day. These are real drinkers, in a room for real drinkers. It’s downright reassuring to leave trendiness at the door.
It attracts an eclectic crowd to its several rooms. The bar room, at least early in the day, is the busiest, though the several dining rooms quickly fill up. This is a restaurant from a day when we ate our meat at The co*ck ’n Bull, Ollie Hammond’s, Tail o’ the co*ck, Tracton’s and Chasen’s. It’s a survivor — along with Musso & Frank in Hollywood, The Bull Pen in Redondo Beach, The Dal Rae in Pico Rivera, Taylor’s Steaks in Koreatown.
I have a friend who eats here once a month because, as she says, “Nothing ever changes.” She lives on The Strand. She’s used to the shock of the new. She’s reassured to go somewhere where there is no future shock. She always orders the grilled veal liver with bacon and onions.
When I dine with her, I like the top sirloin and fried shrimp combo. With a baked spud drowning in melted butter. Maybe the Diamond Jim Cut of prime rib, if we’re celebrating … just being there, and being alive. They don’t cook stuff like this anymore. Except for at The San Franciscan, where I assume they always will.
The Bull Pen, a family owned steakhouse, opened in 1948, and has been at its current Redondo Beach location since 1978. (Photo by Merrill Shindler)
The Steak Library in Lomita offers several steak varieties, including filet mignon, rib eye, New York and porterhouse. (Photo by Merrill Shindler)
The San Franciscan in Torrance dates back to the early 1960s, making it a veteran of the South Bay restaurant scene. (Photo by Merrill Shindler)
of
Expand
Where The San Franciscan dates back to 1963, The Bull Pen (314 Ave. I, Redondo Beach; 310-375-7797, www.thebullpenredondo.com) goes all the way back to 1948; this is Harry S. Truman food at its best.
And even The Bull Pen itself has gone through several different locations — this is its third home in Redondo Beach, where it’s been since 1978, though many of us have little recollection of it ever being anywhere else.
Like only a handful of local restaurants, The Bull Pen is rich with the history of the Beach Cities. Indeed, there’s even an early menu (if not the first) behind the bar, from when the restaurant was King Cole’s Bull Pen. The dishes have changed in some categories, not in others. The prices have changed a lot, but then that’s true everywhere.
It’s an unremitting exercise in nostalgia — the bar looks and feels as if generations of elbows have polished its surface. The booths feel well-massaged from many a local spending many an evening. The servers are no-nonsense, to-the-point, without fuss. They’re not there to be your new best friends. They’re there to feed you, water you, and make you feel at home.
That early menu, posted behind the bar, offers six cuts of beef: top sirloin, New York, filet mignon, prime rib, porterhouse and breaded beef tenderloin. And there’s a choice of filet mignon two ways — topped with bacon and onion rings, and seasoned with Cajun spices; the lesson, I suspect, is that we’re a spicier, more bacon-intensive country than we used to be. Which sounds about right.
These days, the sirloin isn’t just a top cut, but a coulotte steak, served with sautéed mushrooms. There are beef tournedos and beef medallions.
Though much has changed, much more hasn’t. If you have a craving for beef liver, a dish that exudes old times, and good times, they’ve got it at The Bull Pen, along with chicken livers sautéed in wine, butter and mushrooms.
These days, my daughter is mad for poke. The notion of beef liver would strike her as puzzling as my suggesting she have a fried telephone book for lunch. Indeed, she probably has no idea what a telephone book is.
But she certainly would recognize the pride of the house — The Famous Bull Pen Hamburger — though she’d wonder why it isn’t offered gluten-free.
In an age of outlandish burgers, of burgers so oversized and so complex, The Bull Pen’s Burger is notable for its restraint. It’s simply a good-sized burger patty, cooked to order, served on a puffy toasted bun, with cheese for 75 cents extra, and a choice of soup or salad on the side. There’s lettuce underneath. There are decent French fries on the side.
Ketchup and mayo are the condiments of choice. It’s honest, decent and a fine feed. It tastes of old times, before locals lived in board shorts and flip-flops. It does not come topped with a fried egg, pastrami, rare cheeses or ketchup made in a dehydrator.
It is, in a way, the very essence of The Bull Pen — straight forward, to the point, tasty and reasonably priced. And, of course, it goes just fine with Scotch on the rocks. Which can’t be said for the more outré smashburgers of the world.
It’s a taste of how life used to be — and how it still is, at least in this time warp corner of Redondo Beach.
Merrill Shindler is a Los Angeles-based freelance dining critic. Email mreats@aol.com.
