Clifton's Cafeteria

Todd took me out to lunch at a cafeteria called Clifton's in the heart of Los Angeles' jewelry district. I don't know why I had never heard of the eatery that resembled an elementary school cafeteria in the middle of a hunting lodge. "You don't have cool friends," Todd said. "Or they're not cool enough," I countered. At any rate, it's a good thing that Todd's got enough cool for the two of us, the fishing bear and hungry office workers and Latino families who tucked into roast beef, mashed potatoes, blueberry pies and other dishes that reminded me of 45-cent school lunches in South Carolina.

There was something quaint about the egalitarian seating at Clifton's. Everyone had to carry their own plastic tray and find seats either on the main floor or at one of the coveted tables on one of the three tiers overlooking the big dining area. One diner took the Christmas decoration theme too seriously and wore Santa's cap to lunch. I liked his neighbor's ranchero hat better.

The tailipa offered as one of Tuesday's specials was caught that morning by the resident bear.

The green peas and corn that I selected as my two vegetables with my $5.79 fried chicken special came straight out of a tin can. The watermelon juice reminded me that I was in Los Angeles circa 2006 and not in Charleston, S.C., circa 1980. You can take the girl out of the country but you can't take the cornbread away from the girl. That is, unless you want a big fight!

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