The Apple Pan -

By Udana Power

The Apple Pan is the 71-year-old home of the BEST Burger in Los Angeles.

I had my first burger there some time before 1962. I remember that because I was still in high school. My date drove a cool turquoise and white ’57 Chevy. It was “lowered” (close to the ground) and rumbled the school windows when it cruised down Texas Avenue in front of Uni High. One day after school he took me out for a burger.

We went to a small, dumpy little shack on Pico Boulevard in West Los Angeles.

He parked in the bank parking lot across the street (as we all still do today) and walked towards a funky little white building on the corner. I wondered at his taste in eateries. He held open the old green screen door for me. It looked like it had been there since the place opened in 1947.

As I walked in I was confronted by a one-room establishment.

A horseshoe-shaped counter wrapped around a kitchen where a few guys in white industrial aprons were busy slinging burgers. They all wore nifty white hats shaped like little boats on their heads. They filled funny little cone-shaped paper “glasses” that fit into individual metal holders. Very 1950’s. Or even 40’s… Old-fashioned even in the 60s.

The place was packed.

Every single stool around that horseshoe was taken. People were hunched over their burgers like they were in prayer.

As the old screen door slapped shut behind me, I noticed that there were twice as many people standing around the edges of the room as there were sitting. The large crowd was waiting patiently for a stool to empty so they could sit down and worship their own burger. To say the place was packed was an understatement - but it wasn’t noisy. Everyone was polite, letting those eating at the counters enjoy their meal in peace.

I watched as two people finished up their burgers not far from where we stood.

A tall blond server with his boat-hat tilted at a rakish slant slammed open the old metal cash register with a loud ka-ching. He stashed bills in by hand and counted out coins. Then he shoved the cash drawer shut with a loud swoosh-ka-bang and gave the couple their change.

As the two people stood up and stepped away from their red stools, I expected the crowd to descend en mass… or at to least argue about who whose turn was next. Nothing of the sort happened. I heard polite voices saying things like, “Were you first before me?”, or “I think that one opened up.” And “We are 3 people – why don’t you take those two. We’ll wait.”

I was awed. The kindness and politeness of the community of people was as delicious as the aroma of good food enveloping my senses.

I glanced at my date… was it Brian? Dean? Michael?

(I forgot his name. Please forgive me whoever you are – I hope you have had a wonderful life these last 50 years. All I can remember about us is that first moment you introduced me to The Apple Pan.)

I still hadn’t tasted a thing, mind you, but the delicious smells were seducing me.

People left in ones or twos and others immediately took their seats.

There was even a family where the second child sat two stools away from mom, dad and little sister. My mouth salivated and my stomach gurgled with hunger. Perhaps this waiting-thing was the Apple Pan version of foreplay. I don’t know. I was mesmerized. And time stood still.

I have no idea how long we waited.

Finally a nice man leaning against the wall on the far side of the restaurant signaled to my date. He held up two fingers and pointed to the two people sitting in front of him. They were finishing up their meals. He only needed one seat for himself, so he was offering to give us these two seats together. The crowd that had continued to form behind us politely backed away to let us through.

Giddy with excitement I said “Thank you” and slipped onto the red leatherette stool.

One of the boat-hat-guys sped over and quickly swept away the cone cups and paper plates. He wiped the counter spotless with one or two swoops and stuck a menu in my hand. Just as quickly, he turned his attention to someone else who wanted more ketchup.

He was only a little older than me… 20? 21? To a girl in her teens, he seemed much older. As I returned many times over the ensuing 20 - 30 years, he was still there, wiping counters and slinging burgers as efficiently as ever.

The menu was really simple – burger this and burger that…

…rare, medium or cooked to shoe leather. My eyes fell on the words “Hickory Burger.” I was captured. “I’ll take a Hickery Burger with cheese, extra pickles and extra sauce.”

“Fries with that?”

I just nodded, wide-eyed, as in “Uh-huh.”

Boat-hat man zoomed away to put in our orders.

By that time I was actually licking my lips, just like I’m doing right now remembering the moment.

The fries arrived on a paper plate. Extra ketchup was in a bottle nearby.

I picked up one fry, took a bite and swooned. How could a French fry taste like this? I felt myself lifting off into food-heaven.

Then the pièce de résistance was placed before me.

A juicy, medium-rare Hickory Burger with cheddar cheese, extra pickles and extra sauce, wrapped in slick white paper. Our waiter plopped it on the counter in front of me and nestled it onto the flat surface. When he took his hands away, the burger sat there looking up at me. No plate. None needed. I was staring into the face of Nirvana. The waiter then slid a black rectangular napkin dispenser a little closer and disappeared again.

After that I have no idea what else went on around me. I was mesmerized by the juicy sight in front of me. I lifted it up with both hands, carefully moved the white paper away from where I was going to bite, then brought it to my mouth.

OMG!

I took my first bite and was a goner. A convert. An evangelist. By the second and third bites I was almost breathless. The flavors danced on my tongue. The combination of medium-rare burger with melted cheddar and the hickory-whatever-it-was “had me at hello.” The flavors and smells were saturating my senses. How could a hamburger do this? I had no idea. (Nobody else knows either – 74 years later the recipe is still a secret.)

I ate slowly. With reverence. Never had I tasted a burger like this. Heaven. Bliss. Like a celebration in my mouth.

That was the beginning of a great love affair… with The Apple Pan.

I have been back many, many, many times since then. That same guy who waited on me the first time became a fixture over the years - like the red stools, the noisy old cash register and the ceiling fans. Now, over 50 years later, a crowd still stands around the edges of the restaurant waiting for stools to open up. Sometimes the line goes out the front door and down the sidewalk to the corner. It’s worth the wait.

Lots of celebrities show up and wait just like the rest of us.

Eric Clapton and Warren Buffett have been seen standing patiently behind a stool. Finally, in March 2020 (73 years after opening) they started taking credit cards. I don’t know what that means for the old cash register.

They still serve French fries on paper plates and cola drinks poured into paper cones.

The Hickory Burgers are still wrapped in white paper and served sitting perched directly on the counter like a precious gift waiting to be opened.

Yes, they serve lots of other things at The Apple Pan.

They have tuna salad and egg salad sandwiches plus Southern Baked Ham sandwiches and a “combination-something.” They also have cream pies overflowing with bananas, coconut, chocolate, peaches or strawberries. The fresh apple and pecan pies taste like someone’s grandma made them. Yum! It’s a whole different experience from the industrial pie-making industry we usually get pies from.

Even so, I ALWAYS return for the Hickory Burger.

I also return for the polite crowd of kind people gathering around to share one of the best kept secrets that everyone in Los Angeles knows about.

As a matter of fact, it’s only 4:30 p.m. on a warm Sunday afternoon in April. I think I’m going to put on my tennies, drive 25 minutes across town and wait for a place at that counter. Yes – I became one of those people who is totally happy to go to The Apple Pan by myself and wait for a single stool. It feels like I’m at a wonderful dinner party with a group of good friends I don’t yet know. What’ll I have? A Hickory Burger, of course.

Thank you, Brian. Or was it Dean? Was it Paul Podryski who first took me there?

Whoever you were, you changed my life. It’s like the quote from Walt Whitman, “We were there together… that’s all I remember.”

Udana Power

Author, Actress, Speaker, Investor and Certified Life Coach. Creator of "The Friendchise: Conscious Entrepreneurship Training." Million dollar earner in network marketing.

"I give you nothing unless I give you more of your Self." - Udana