Lawry's the Prime Rib
100 N. La Cienega Blvd.
Beverly Hills, CA
Wilshire Boulevard
310-652-2827

Restaurant-goers in L.A. are an eclectic lot no matter where you are, whether it's a Oaxacan cafe, a Sichuan noodle joint, a French bistro or the latest California-Mediterranean place. But Lawry's the Prime Rib, on La Cienega's restaurant row, has the most diverse crowd I've ever seen in Los Angeles. On a Friday night the place is thronged with French tourists, Japanese honeymooners, senior citizens, a dad and son on a boys' night out, teenagers accented with body rings and tattoos -- and the occasional couple on a date. The thing is, everybody loves prime rib, and not only is Lawry's a great value, it's a lot of fun.

As guests pile up at the podium to see about their tables, the harried staff members perform triage. Reservations are taken for half the tables in the restaurant; the other half are for walk-ins. On a weekend night, the crowd soon spills over from the waiting room and bar to the porch outside. Even with a reservation, there always seems to be a wait of at least 10 minutes. However long it is, it's more than enough time to investigate the glassed display of vintage photos of founder Lawrence L. Frank and shots of the Lawry's in-house "Royal Order of Carvers" at work. You can see that the waitresses' gravy brown uniforms and white apron and cap haven't changed since the opening in 1938.

Lawry's has the dining experience down to a science. The menu is as streamlined as they come. All prime rib dinners are served with salad, Yorkshire pudding cooked in its own little skillet, and mashed potatoes. All the waitress needs to know is whether anyone wants seafood -- that would be either lobster tails or the fish of the day. It seems a little crazy to go to a prime rib house for seafood, and I'm the only taker. I order the lobster tails with my prime rib. I can't help thinking how much my father would have enjoyed the combination. To him, it would have been the height of sophistication -- preceded, of course, by a vodka martini.

The rest of the meal -- your preferred cut of prime rib and any vegetables or other side dishes -- is ordered later from the carver when he rolls up to the table with his magnificent cart. The carts, designed by Frank in gleaming stainless steel, look like miniature Art Deco Airstream trailers and are emblazoned with the Lawry's logo, a familiar sight from the bottles of seasoning salts sold in supermarkets.

The meal begins with the waitress spinning our salad tableside, using a stainless steel bowl set into another, larger one filled with crushed ice. "Have you ever lost one?" I ask, envisioning a salad bowl merrily careening out of control. "No, not me," though she admits losing the spoons a couple of times. Stretching her arm high overhead, she tips the contents of a silver sauceboat, and a thread of Lawry's sunset-pink vintage sherry dressing falls onto the twirling bowl of lettuce, julienned beets, hardboiled eggs and croutons. Tomatoes are added after the salad is plated. Before wheeling her cart away, she ceremoniously offers chilled salad forks. We plunge into the salad. It's very American and remarkably tasty.

Act Two. Our carver arrives and rolls back the cover of his gleaming cart to reveal a steaming cityscape of beef. It's all USDA prime. If you order your prime rib medium, he carves it from the ends. Medium rare comes from the middle, and so on. The only real difference in the cuts is size. The basic is the Lawry's cut. The California cut is a smaller portion. The Diamond Jim Brady cut is enormous, a good two inches thick, and comes with the bone. The English cut offers three thin slices, more pouring surface for the mild au jus that come with all the cuts.

As for sides, get the creamed spinach scented with nutmeg, or a mix of corn and spinach. If you opt for the baked potato, it comes fluffy and steaming hot. No use playing it safe now. Go for the works -- sour cream, chives and bacon.

Dessert? We couldn't. We absolutely couldn't. Yet somehow we end up ordering the hot fudge sundae. It's lots of vanilla ice cream, toasted almonds and a pitcher of C.C. Brown's hot fudge from the now defunct Hollywood ice cream palace. There's also a deliciously gooey banana cream pie. If it's your birthday, you get a complimentary English trifle, which isn't as thrilling as it sounds. It's nothing like the wonderful poundcakes of memory, soaked with berry juices and lavished with fresh whipped or Devonshire cream.

On another visit, on a weekday night, I take a friend who fondly remembers his last trip to Lawry's some 15 years ago, well before they moved back across the street to more palatial quarters. That night, our table is ready when we arrive. It's a swell booth. I ask my guest if he's interested in lobster or fish. "I want to have what I came here for, what I remember was good, the prime rib," he replies. His verdict: It's better than he remembered.

Lawry's has several locations, but none has the feel of a chain restaurant. You get a familial, proprietary sense from the servers, many of whom have worked together for years. And to think that Lawry's manages to do it night after night, dinner after dinner. In the ladies' room at midnight, I run into one of the hostesses. How many people did she serve tonight? About 1,200, she answers. As I said, everybody loves prime rib.



Hours: Mon.-Thu., 5-10 p.m.; Fri., 5-11 p.m.; Sat., 4:30-11 p.m.; Sun., 4-10 p.m.