L.A. defines happy hour

By Julia Gaynor

Nov. 7, 2002 12 AM PT

Special to The Times

Word on the street was that it couldn’t possibly exist. Not here, anyway. Happy hour was an old-fashioned relic from the days when two-martini lunches were de rigueur, when a man could call his secretary “honey” and feel good about it.

It’s dated, irrelevant. Or at the very least, it’s something other cities do. We’re too sophisticated for that. Or too health-conscious. At the end of the day, we go to the gym, the self-improvement class, the “networking” schmooze. We don’t have “appetizer deals” or “drink specials.” We have $9 martinis.

We don’t bond after work with our co-workers. We race to our SUVs and clog the freeways, desperate to isolate ourselves even further in our gated communities. We have too far to drive. We have too much to do. We wouldn’t be caught dead drinking that early in the day. And as for meeting people?

That’s what the Internet’s for. Right?

Wrong. L.A. does indeed have happy hours. We have so many that you could go to a different spot every day for months and never hit the same place twice.

Of course, you probably wouldn’t. And really, you probably shouldn’t. Many of them still resemble abysmal throwbacks to yesteryear, complete with stale beer and rubber chicken wings. But there’s a new breed today; fresh and lively Southern California reincarnations of a ritual as American as yard sales. Let’s face it: These days, we’re not as likely to blithely slap down $12 for a vodka tonic when we can get it somewhere else for half-price.

To uncover the happy hour renaissance, the search went from Malibu to Pasadena, spanning more than 35 bars and restaurants over several weeks. The result? Whether you want to go around the corner or venture beyond the familiar, L.A. has a happy hour destination to suit almost everyone.

There’s entertainment-industry happy hour, happy hour by the beach, upscale happy hour, sushi happy hour, Hollywood-hipster happy hour, happy hour for corporate suits, working stiffs and the older generation. For those whose work hours aren’t compatible, there’s late-night happy hour and weekend happy hour. If you can’t stand the thought of traditional happy-hour food -- piles of glop steaming away on top of the Sterno -- despair not. Some of L.A.’s top-notch restaurants offer appetizer specials cheap.

Of course there are countless small local bars that have their own versions, but it is the more distinctive happy hours that are redefining the city’s after-work style.

7:30 p.m. Tuesday

First stop was the Well, a dark and chicly designed watering hole in the heart of Hollywood -- in one of the ZIP Codes where you’re most likely to find overpriced cocktails. Rimma Aranovich drinks $3 vodka tonics and eats $4 bar food that’s meal-sized. “One of the best things about this place is that the happy hour is from 6 to 9, so people who work till 7 or 8 can still make it here and reap the rewards,” the 28-year-old set designer says.

Young, pretty people filter in and out while a mix of hip-hop and rock music plays in the background. “Hey, James,” someone says to the man behind the bar before joining a friend at one of the round, candlelit booths. Absolutely everyone says hello to James Rhea, the manager, as if he’s the Sam Malone of Hollywood.

He says the Well is trying to change happy hour’s image, take it into the 21st century. “People think of happy hour and think of El Torito, or something cheesy that your grandparents did. It doesn’t have to be like that,” Rhea says. The Well’s happy hour crowd is mostly industry people, he says, employees from Nickelodeon across the street, workers in the office building that houses the bar and some Hollywood locals.

There are some people reading scripts, others having business meetings, even a man at the bar solving theorems as he studies for his business school entrance exam. As the evening wears on, though, the atmosphere has more of a pickup vibe. Attractive young things drift in to case the place, looking for their next date or next business contact: In Hollywood, either is considered a success.

All L.A. happy hours share the goal of providing a pit stop where people can decompress or let off steam. Above all, happy hour is about the deal.

Whether it’s $1 beer or $3 sushi, all-you-can-eat buffet or a half-price martini, there will be some special to lure you in. Once a happy hour has won your heart, the next step is commitment, becoming a regular. And then, everybody will know your name.

Happy hours are not all created equal. But along the happy hour highway, you will encounter some definite standouts. They’ve all got a bit of the “Cheers” factor and are worth visiting. Here are scenes from the tour:

5:30 p.m. Friday

At McCormick & Schmick’s downtown, the outdoor patio buzzes loudly with rowdy conversation; every table is full.

This is a post-work crowd; bankers, lawyers, other local business people come with their ties loosened to kvetch about work, wait for traffic to die down, or feast on the incredible $1.95 burgers, quesadillas or other outrageously cheap food on offer from 3 to 11 p.m. Men are in suits or business casual, women wear twin sets and slacks. This could be anywhere in America at this time of day.

The waitress brings a beer to a regular who didn’t even have to order first.

Edmund Sumner, a 25-year-old sales consultant for Minolta who’s sitting with his boss, looks the picture of a future corporate raider, kind of a Mini-Me of the man sitting across from him. He says they like to kill time here between work and Clippers games. “We talk about work and women. I have to gain wisdom from my elders,” he says, smirking. Then he adds, “The canvas here is always painted well.” Translation: The women are hot.

They’re not the only ones who feel that way. Inside, six attractive women in their 20s sit at a round table. They’re being checked out and chatted up by a gaggle of men in suits.

“He just asked me out,” a brunet mouths excitedly to her friend. “Should I go out with him?”

“Which one is he?” her friend mouths back.

“The one with the blue tie.”

“Definitely.”

One of the women at the table, Michelle Rodriguez, is a film publicist who lives and works in Hollywood. She says they take the subway here on Friday nights because they’re tired of the Hollywood scene. “It’s the most social happy hour in L.A.,” she says. “More people will actually talk to you here than anywhere else.”

One final note on McCormick & Schmick’s: There are several branches of this chain, and the one in Beverly Hills does not have the “Cheers” factor. The staff is dismissive of the happy hour crowd, practically ignoring them in favor of the full-paying customers, and you can’t special-order your burger. In Beverly Hills, you get what you pay for.

6 p.m. Wednesday

It’s time for the beach and Chaya Venice. The place is packed, and the rule here is that you must be seated at the bar or a table to enjoy the generous sushi happy hour. But hey, this is Venice, man, the laid-back capital of the world, and your hostess, Chanel, does her best to make it easy for you.

The crowd here is well-heeled, very good-looking, 30s and 40s, mostly locals who seem to know one another or want to get to know one another better. Most people are chatting with friends, but several sit alone, reading or talking to the bartender.

Chrissie Wilson, a writer and resident Venetian, is tall and striking, with a mane of mussed long blond hair. She’s perched at the sushi bar, a $3 bowl of miso soup to her right, a glass of chardonnay to her left. She says she stops by several times a week and doesn’t have any problem showing up on her own. “This is my local. When you’re in a city and live alone, there’s always that sense of being out of the loop a bit, and it’s nice if there’s a place you can go and feel at home. I’m never awkward coming by myself.” Plus, she adds, people on the staff treat regulars like friends. This is evident by the number of times Chanel hugs entering patrons.

There are no drink specials here, but you can order $3 sushi or scallops from one of the best restaurants in L.A. and enjoy a few hours of very civilized chill time, Venetian-style.

7 p.m. Thursday

At Meet Me Cafe, four slightly self-conscious bongo players play enthusiastically in the corner; stylish girls in ultra-low cut jeans sprawl on comfy couches; and beautiful boys in black sip $3 beers and munch on $2 falafel with tahini, eyes darting to see who’s arrived.

This funky Beverly Hills restaurant is a popular lunch spot with the entertainment industry folk who work around Robertson and Wilshire boulevards, and once a week it opens its doors for industry happy hour, cashing in on the glut of agents, models, actors, and writers who visit or work at one of the acronyms in this ‘hood: CAA, BMG, ICM and the like.

“The idea of Meet Me is just that,” owner Ronit Mory says. “Customers get a chance to hook up in an informal setting. Last week, a regular who’s a model met a producer, and who knows?” The question lingers with that special Hollywood brand of optimism until you see what truly sets this place apart: two books, one red and one blue, that are part of the in-house dating service.

Each book includes customers’ personal profiles -- red for women, blue for men, anonymous of course -- for other patrons who are single and looking. If you like what you see, give a waiter the corresponding code number for the desired personal and Ronit will do the rest, arranging a date at the cafe. For those not in the market for a model or agent to date, the books are an entertaining read.

7 p.m. Friday

This is definitely the night for Ciudad. Downtown again, and definitely not disappointed. A six-piece Latin band plays lively salsa music in the large open-air courtyard in front of the restaurant. Tables are filling up. Birthday parties, leaving do’s, conventioneers bonding in the comfort zone of happy hour. On offer are abbreviated versions of Ciudad’s out-of this world food for less than $5, as well as $3.50 mojitos and the most spectacular white wine sangria you could imagine. Four young men in khakis nurse beers at the bar inside.

It’s happy hour, but this group looks glum. “This is a very special happy hour place for us but not a very happy day,” Geoff Wullscalager says.

Three of them were laid off from their law firm and they immediately came here to console one another, a place they usually flock to for end-of-the-week celebration, because as Wullscalager says, “if you’re a regular, they really make you feel like you belong. In Oregon, where I’m from, there are lots of bars where everybody knows your name. It blows me away that a place in downtown L.A. has a corner bar feel too.” Although he lives in Pasadena, he says, he’ll continue to go to Ciudad even if it isn’t close, simply because it’s the right happy hour for him.

5 p.m Friday

Dukes in Malibu is like a scene from “Magnum P.I.,” circa 1982. Towheads with tans sit next to sun-kissed beach babes sporting mirrored sunglasses and visors, most wearing shorts and sandals. There’s a timeless kitsch about Malibu that matches the retro feel of happy hour perfectly.

Dukes is vast, but happy hour happens in the Barefoot Bar, a cozy offshoot of the main restaurant. There’s a sports bar inside and a wooden deck suspended over the Pacific Ocean with grassy umbrella-topped tables outside. Something about the sea air and waves crashing on the rocks below sets a serene scene: lots of contemplative silences and couples kissing gently, oblivious to the fact that they’re not alone.

A sporty looking waitress sashays over in a mini-sarong and tank top. Would you like to try a beach drink? Say, the Lava Flow, Tropical Itch or Beach Boy? All sound suitably festive, but today is Friday and it’s Mai Tai Madness: When mai tais are $3.50 during happy hour, the choice is simple. Other daily specials include Big Wednesdays, with $2 Bud and Bud Light drafts, and Taco Tuesdays, with enormous fish tacos for $1.95.

Some computer support technicians do “employee bonding” at a table in the corner. “We’re sharing our pain,” quips Jason Antoyan, a 25-year-old member of the trio as he orders his second margarita. “I’m a great employee,” he jokes. “When I’m not working, that is.” They all laugh, then look out at the sea, their faces tranquil and calm. It seems you just can’t help feeling content at happy hour in “the ‘Bu.”

Best bang for your buck

Happy hour, old school style, where you can drink for cheap and, best of all, eat free.

Cat and Fiddle

6530 Sunset Blvd, Hollywood; (323) 468-3800.

The happy hours: Monday-Friday, 4-7 p.m.

The deal: All beers $3.50

The free spread: The free food choices change daily and often include bangers and mash, wild rice and chicken, sausage rolls and more. Tip: Arrive early for the free stuff because they only lay it out once and once it’s gone, it’s gone.

The Smokehouse

4420 Lakeside Drive, Burbank; (818) 845-3731.

The happy hours: Monday-Friday, 4-7 p.m.

The deal: $3 well drinks, $2.50 beer.

The free spread: Totally edible cheese and crackers, vegetable crudite, chicken wings and fried zucchini.

Acapulco, Burbank

3113 W. Olive Ave, Burbank; (818) 841-4433.

The happy hours: Monday-Friday, 4-7 p.m.

The deal: Half-price cocktails, beer and appetizers, plus “Margarita Mondays” with $1.75 margaritas.

The free spread: “Mucho Munchie Bar” offers mystery bean stew, chewy taquitos and soggy egg rolls, plus a strange slaw of some sort. Low-end food, but it’s free.

Mijares

145 Palmetto Drive, Pasadena; (626) 792-2763.

The happy hours: Monday-Thursday, 4-7 p.m.

The deal: All beer is $2 and double margaritas are $4.

The free spread: More of a dollop than a spread. One pan of tired-looking bean dip on a hot plate.

Late-night happy hours

After-hour happy hours that cater to the crowd whose workday doesn’t end at 5 p.m.

Canal Club

2025 Pacific Ave., Venice;

(310) 306-6266.

The happy hours: Monday-Friday, 5-7 p.m., 11 p.m.-1 a.m.

The deal: Everything with an asterisk is $2.95 from the food menu, from satay skewers to sushi rolls. No drink specials.