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Unfinished business at Du-par's restaurant
Growing up in 1980s L.A., I probably slid into the smooth red booths of Du-par's restaurant at the Original Farmers Market a hundred times for weekend lunches with my grandmother. It's where I tried my first pie, sipped my first cup of coffee, and discovered Raspberry pancake syrup, date-nut bread and patty melts. My grandmother loved eating, and she passed her passion on to me at this wood-paneled L.A. landmark whose charms drew generations of celebrities, plumbers, retirees, families, writers and hung-over party kids for eight decades. ("Some of the regulars look as if they've been sitting at the same table since Governor Reagan's first term," restaurant critic and Du-par's devotee Jonathan Gold once quipped).
Until last Friday, I had not stepped into Du-par's in 31 years. During that time, friends occasionally suggested we meet there for a stack of hotcakes dripping with melted butter, and I'd always figure out a way to get our destination moved. Now I was finally here again, drawn by news that Du-par's was financially struggling and the pull of unfinished business. The man at the register asked me whether I wanted to sit inside or on the patio. This would be the most consequential decision of my visit.
Patty Merritt, a waitress at Du-par's, wears its old-time uniform. (Damon Winter/Los Angeles Times)
The red vinyl ghost
This was the moment of truth. The last time I was here, I tried wedging my way into the booth, but my body was just too big. Trapped and in pain, I ate uncomfortably while fretting about how I would get out. When the bill arrived, I urged my grandmother to pay. I would meet her in the car in a minute. As she exited, I quietly asked the waitress if there was someone who could help me out and she returned with a burly guy from the kitchen. He managed to free me, but the commotion sent my water glass crashing to the ground, prompting half of Du-par's to witness my extraction.
Now, here I was again, facing down a red vinyl ghost from my past. I got in without much effort, tight but not constricting. This was not a total surprise. After seeing my weight top off at 510 pounds, I underwent weight-loss surgery a few years ago and had a pretty good idea I was not going to have a problem this time. In some ways, it was just the latest stop on my post-surgery victory tour of childhood haunts and the rituals that had, for so long, seemed off-limits to the heavier me. Shopping at the Beverly Center. Walking around Griffith Park. Gliding into a seat at the Sunset 5 movie theater without fear.
Diners at Du-par's on May 4, 2023. (Dania Maxwell/Los Angeles Times)
This new life was all about not putting food first, a marked contrast to the culture of all those Du-par's lunches. For my grandmother, Du-par's was not about sustenance or ritual, or a convenient place to catch up with her family. It was about pleasure and joy. I memorized her orders — date-nut bread with cold butter, cup of chicken soup, steak and kidney pie, or Swedish meatballs or meatloaf or the Thanksgiving open-faced sandwich. Coffee followed by a slice of pie. Mincemeat. Boysenberry. Peach. And always with instructions that cracked us up: "Easy on the ice, heavy on the gravy." "Chew your food, it adds more flavor." "Coffee from the urn, not the pot."
Everyone thought it was cute the way this little kid couldn't stop talking about eating at Du-par's with his grandmother. But over time, the chuckles gave way to alarm as my weight exploded. My family tried to steer me toward the Du-par's diet plate (a burger, cottage cheese and some sliced fruit), but I wasn't having it. When I was old enough to drive, I'd cruise in to get pastries and doughnuts to go and eat them in my car alone.
I'd put Du-par's out of my mind until news broke this month that the 86-year-old eatery was struggling. A lot of iconic L.A. restaurants have closed in recent years, battered by the pandemic, changing tastes, rising costs and food delivery craze.
If you have lived in a place long enough, the loss is less about the food and more about the life moments tied to the place. I think of the Original Pantry and immediately remember a friend who talked about how he wooed his future wife with early-morning breakfasts there before driving her to LAX. As a teenager, I borrowed my mom's Datsun and cruised the Sunset Strip at night. The line outside the music venues didn't impress me. But the elegant people eating — and smoking — on the sidewalk patio of Le Petit Four left me longing for that far-away life.
My Dupar's lunch date arrived and we ordered the hotcakes. Delicious, just as I remembered them. But I ate only about half the plate, a byproduct of having a good part of my stomach removed. When we were done, I told him to go on ahead, a little insurance policy in case getting out of the booth proved difficult. I slid out without effort and took it all in. So many memories, both good and bad. But I was grateful to have created a new one and that I conquered one more place that for so long felt off-limits.
I texted a longtime friend: "We should go to Du-Pars next time."
Today's top stories
(Eric Risberg/Associated Press)
U.S. measles cases surpass 700 with outbreaks in six states. Here's what to know
- The United States has more than double the number of measles cases it saw in all of 2024, and Texas is reporting the majority of them, with 541 as of last week's updated count.
- Other states with active outbreaks — defined as having three or more cases — include New Mexico, Indiana, Kansas, Ohio and Oklahoma.
Salvadoran president says he won't return man wrongly deported from U.S.
What else is going on
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This morning's must reads
Former German citizen Dennis Beier poses for a photo with his new certificate of naturalization after a U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services naturalization ceremony at Griffith Observatory on Oct. 21, 2024. (Brian van der Brug/Los Angeles Times)
How major demographic changes of Asian and Latino immigrants are transforming California. For nearly two decades, more Asians have immigrated to California than Latin Americans. The changing migration patterns are hitting regions in different ways: In Silicon Valley, 42% of Santa Clara County residents are now immigrants, with most coming from China and India. By contrast, Los Angeles County is about one-third immigrant with most still coming from Latin America. The big question now is how President Trump's border policies will affect these trends.
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For your downtime
Music fans at the 2025 Coachella festival in Indio on April 12. (Allen J. Schaben/Los Angeles Times)
Going out
Staying in
A question for you: What is the best concert or music festival you experienced in California?
Stephen Reid writes: "On a warm summer night in 1986, I went to the Greek Theater in Hollywood to hear B.B. King open for the incomparable Stevie Ray Vaughan. Hundreds of shows and many years later, this remains the single greatest show I've ever seen."
Email us at essentialcalifornia@latimes.com, and your response might appear in the newsletter this week.
And finally ... your photo of the day
Show us your favorite place in California! Send us photos you have taken of spots in California that are special — natural or human-made — and tell us why they're important to you.
T-Pain performs on the Coachella main stage. (Allen J. Schaben/Los Angeles Times)
Today's great photo is from Times photographer Allen J. Schaben from the first weekend of the 2025 Coachella Valley Music and Arts Festival.
Have a great day, from the Essential California team
Ryan Fonseca, reporter
Andrew Campa, Sunday reporter
Kevinisha Walker, multiplatform editor
Hunter Clauss, multiplatform editor
Christian Orozco, assistant editor
Karim Doumar, head of newsletters
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