The Apple Pan

It's all in how you're raised, or maybe where. I'm a Valley boy, so I grew up on double-decker burgers in three-layer buns loaded with sesame seeds, washed down by "milkshakes" frozen as solid as an Italian semifreddo. All hamburgers pale beside the Bob's Big Boy's I lived on in high school.

That includes the burgers the Bob's chain sells today, so I'm open to a replacement. But it's awkward developing an allegiance to a new cult burger. It's kind of like changing high schools.

That's why I had a hard time getting into the Apple Pan. This Westwood burger counter is so steeped in itself it lists not only the year but the day of its opening (April 11, 1947) at the top of the menu. Its customers are as loyal as sports fans.

It seems intransigently opposed to modernization. The terra cotta floor boasts scores of worn spots, and one or two of the old-fashioned coat hooks are missing from the ancient wood-paneled wall. Some parts of the Apple Pan smell like an old-time movie theater; it must be something about the detergent used. The only thing in the place that seems less than about 40 years old is the hood over the grill.

But resisting change is not a bad thing. While Bob's franchised wide and then downscaled its burger and ended up serving chicken and barbecue and who knows what, the Apple Pan has stuck to what it thinks it does best. That's two burgers, five sandwiches and three kinds of pie, and it truly does them all well.

The Apple Pan steak burger is very distinctive -- it's the only burger I've ever seen that comes with lettuce but doesn't even offer the option of tomatoes. Beside the lettuce, it includes a sweet pickle relish that must have ketchup in it. The combination gives a sweet, fresh effect that certainly would be cluttered up by tomatoes.

Above all, the moderately thick patty is excellent: beefy, juicy and even a bit sweet in itself. The bun is lightly toasted on a griddle, and if you ask for cheese (40 cents extra), you get actual Tillamook Cheddar, carefully melted. This is a highly satisfying burger.

The hickory burger is much the same, but it includes a peculiar "barbecue sauce" that tastes like tart ketchup plus hickory smoke flavoring. I've rarely ordered one, but, somewhat to my surprise, I've never left one unfinished, either.

The ham sandwich is a deli-style model, piled high with sweet, thin-sliced Virginia ham. It includes lettuce and mayonnaise; you get mustard on the side. There's also a plain cheese sandwich -- just lettuce, mayo and a thick pile of Swiss cheese slices (if you don't specify a bread, they presume rye). Needless to say, there's a ham and cheese, called a combination on the menu.

You can get a tuna sandwich, again a rather distinctive one; it has flecks of sweet pickle relish in it, which may stir memories in anybody who ate at Los Angeles Unified School District cafeterias in the '50s. Like the other sandwiches, it's piled high and comes with lettuce and mayo.

At restaurants, egg salad sandwiches tend to be the dullest, most perfunctory thing on offer, and they're almost unheard of in hamburger places. The Apple Pan, though, not only makes an egg salad sandwich but a strikingly good one. In fact, it's better than any homemade egg salad I've had in years. The eggs are evidently very fresh and not overcooked at all, making for a rich, luscious, totally eggy experience.

And that's about it for the main course. There are French fries, served in a paper basket; a little mushy to my taste. Soft drinks come in paper cones set in little plastic holders, a quaint soda fountain practice straight out of the '40s.

But what about the "apple" part of the name? The Apple Pan has a separate kitchen in the back making nothing but pies. They have tolerable crusts (they could be a lot flakier) and I happen to think the apple pie, which comes with a little container of cinnamon syrup, is just OK. The pecan pie will not appeal to a lot of Southerners -- it has an adequate amount of pecans but is only moderately sweet.

The pies for me are the daily changing cream pies. In place of a top crust, they have a good half inch of cream whipped so dense it's just about to churn into butter. The banana cream pie (two layers of custard sandwiching one of bananas) is great. The boysenberry is a titanic mouthful of flavor.

OK, I'm sold. Go, Apple Pan! Go, Apple Pan!