Live Forever

The Enduring Legacy of the Apple Pan - The Los Angeles Letter Vol. III

My mother went to dinner the other night with some friends, and when I inquired as to where, she offered “The Apple Pan - because we felt like getting a burger.” She said this with all the nonchalance of making a fast food run, which for the uninitiated it is not. We hail from one of the lost ends of Los Angeles and the iconic Apple Pan is around 30 miles from her home. In Los Angeles that can mean anything from a 45-minute ride to a 90-minute nightmare. And because most iconic places in LA defy rationality or explanation, there is effectively no parking. So pray to the parking gods, or bring someone possessing LA’s ultimate backstage pass, a handicapped parking placard.

The Apple Pan is bigger than a hamburger stand and not quite big enough to be a diner. Located in a little bungalow on Pico Boulevard, the building makes me imagine what that stretch of road must have looked like when it opened in 1947. The street itself is teeming with LA history. It connects the Westside to Downtown, intersects three of our major freeways, and is home to many of the reasons why so many have come to the city over the years - the fashion district, Fox Studios, McCabe's Guitar Shop, Santa Monica City College, and the beach, along with the Apple Pan, all call Pico home. Fast food didn’t exist yet. 1947 was peak Los Angeles - this was the LA of the Black Dahlia, jazz rooms - in the throes of a post-war economic boom that attracted entrepreneurs to California chasing the sun, opportunity, and hope.

Founders, Ellen and Alan Baker came to LA from the Midwest, bringing family recipes and a work ethic embodied in the restaurant’s motto - “Quality Forever”- emblazoned on its marquee. Every time I have driven past this sign or walked through the door beneath it, it has given me pause. Forever. That’s a damn commitment. As Prince said, “That’s a mighty long time.” It is. There is audacity in the promise. In an age where our principles have become fluid, the notion of forever seems antiquated.

The superlative “quality” that precedes it is as simple as the place is. Stripped of veneer and pretense. If you are chasing fads, looking for a meal to define your identity, or need a description as long as this essay describes your food, you best look elsewhere.

Like many older institutions, the menu is a study of simplicity. Burgers are two ways - sweet pickle relish or hickory sauce - add cheese and a double patty if you like. I’m guessing you can order them plain, but the servers are old school, and I’m guessing don’t have time for your bullshite. And, also, what’s wrong with you?

There are five other simple sandwiches available, but let’s stay focused. There are also fries, which are crispy and a must-have. There are eight flavors of pies, which you can order by the slice, or take a whole pie home to assuage the jealousy of whoever is waiting for your return. Apparently, adding a slice of the Tillamook cheddar used on the burgers to a slice of apple pie is a thing here, but not for me it isn’t.

The Apple Pan is a celebration of the hamburger. And the hamburger is a celebration of the deception of simplicity. Like all great American dishes, hamburgers are egalitarian. Their fans cut across the strata of our society - from the working class to the leisure class, those turning down a burger should be avoided, unless, of course, they are vegans, who should be avoided in the first place.

It's a humble thing. A hamburger. It’s just a sandwich, maybe served in wax paper like at the Apple Pan. Within the two halves of a bun, a complex battle is being waged, to create an experience superior to the sum of its ingredients. The hot and the cold, the savory and tangy, the melt and the ooze all work in concert to transcend their origins. At the Apple Pan, the burgers are cooked on a griddle. The key for any burger, if you ask me. The buns are toasted on the griddle too, and the little char ring around left around the bun plays with the soft texture of the bread.

Walking into the Apple Pan is like driving a Delorean at 88 miles an hour and arriving in 1947. There are 26 stools in the place. Arranged around a U-shaped counter. They will likely be occupied when you arrive. Queue up against the wall. Don’t vibe anyone, wait your turn. The system is semi-self-regulating, if you don’t know your place in line, someone does. While you wait, imagine the countless Angelenos who have done the same thing. The actors, and wannabe actors, the geniuses over at the Rand Corporation (also on Pico) taking a break from writing code - all hamburger lovers, like us. Seeking subsistence, yes, but finding so much more. And bring cash. It’s 1947, remember? No plastic.

The staff at the Apple Pan is as much a part of the experience as the burgers are. And for the most part, the staff doesn’t leave. Numerous articles detail the long tenures of the Apple Pan crew - 25, 40, and 55 years were not uncommon. People who have spent their lives serving burgers - serving you. I find inspiration in the people that keep these icons thriving. I thrive on the energy that such longevity generates. Tenure is often a labor of love. It’s hard to leave the things we love behind.

A granddaughter of the founders, Sunny Sherman, sold the Apple Pan in 2019 after her family ran it for 72 years. I’m guessing it was a heart-wrenching decision, as these things usually are. Because this is an LA story, it was purchased by Shelli and Irving Azoff, likely also as a labor of love. Irving Azoff is a music industry legend, who may be best known for managing a little band that got together not too far from the Apple Pan called the Eagles. The Azoffs have pledged to leave the icon untouched. So far, so good.

That little bit of rock n roll added to the history of the restaurant makes me look at the sign on Pico a little differently now, their slogan “Quality Forever” reads like the great Oasis song “Live Forever”, at least in my mind. It made me ask - “how can we live forever?” Through children, of course, through the people we love too - but also the things we love. Things are often made trivial in the context of living and dying. But a cheeseburger is no trivial thing. It can be transcendent. It can provide a perfect moment in a day that may find you in the eye of a storm. It can transport you to a simpler time, even one you have never known - only imagined. Things that are made with love receive our love in return. Perhaps we can live forever by contributing to the shared memories of these iconic institutions that outlive us.

THE APPLE PAN

10801 W Pico Blvd. Los Angeles, CA 90064

(310) 475 3585

Closed Mondays, 11 - 11 weekdays, 11 - midnight weekends