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Inside the grand Hollywood restaurant Paley, Jonathan Gold takes amused small bites

Inside the grand Hollywood restaurant Paley, Jonathan Gold takes amused small bites

The last time I visited Paley, a bored parking attendant waved me into a Do Not Enter lane, through a maze of narrow passageways and down to a cavernous lower level where mine was pretty much the only car. An elevator whooshed me up to an unfinished office floor of a glass-and-steel building. A corner of the building across the plaza looked as if it had melted in the summer heat. A security guard wanted to know how the hell I had gotten up there. Five minutes later, down a flight of roped-off stairs and past what looked like a sports arena furnished only with ladders, I found the restaurant, feeling very much as if I had just limped off the set of a Jacques Tati movie. One sip...

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