Well, the name sure is memorable, though The Only Place in Town is far from being the only place in town. But it is the only place at 110 W. Sierra Madre Blvd. in downtown Sierra Madre. So that is something.
In fact, according to the website, The Only Place in Town, which really may have been the only place in town when it first opened way back in 1945, was originally called The Headliner. Which is not the most memorable or catchy of names. The website further tells us it was “renamed” by locals, who very likely like me found The Headliner less than memorable.
The newer name is definitely memorable. As is the menu, which has grown muchly since way back when.
Indeed, so many of the dishes at this exceedingly comfortable, down-home, family friendly eatery in the heart of town, with its extensive seating both inside and out, are of modern vintage. It can be a bit of a fun culinary puzzle, trying to figure out which dishes were served in the last year of World War II. I’m guessing the corned beef hash with two poached eggs, though I’m not sure about the carrot-zucchini bread that comes with it, along with fresh fruit — a very satisfying breakfast. Steak & Eggs seem likely. Ditto the Old Fashioned Onion Rings, the Tuna Melt and the Reuben Sandwich, the Clubhouse Sandwich, the Prime Rib and the Top Sirloin. And definitely the Vegetable-Barley Soup.
But otherwise, the menu at The Only Place could be studied by culinary historians as a document that details the addition of a multitude of dishes to our edible armaments; we eat a lot more dishes now than we did then, and a lot more dishes then than we did in the years before then. Cuisine is not carved in stone.
One of the joys of writing about restaurants is watching the growth and maturation of our eating habits over the years. (There was a time when Benihana ran a series of radio ads, mocking sushi as “raw fish pulled right out of the ocean.” Last I looked, Benihana offered a sushi bar.)
The Only Place is the very essence of the cozy neighborhood eatery. (I’d called it a “café,” except it seems too spacious to be a café. This is a bit of a restaurant, of several rooms, along with the outside that does take up quite a bit of sidewalk.) It’s the sort of restaurant I go to with the family, when we want to talk about issues — like planning a trip to Kauai now that the pandemic has pulled back from what it was at its worst, or how to pay for my daughter’s college education. In other words, a restaurant where ordering is easy, where the side dishes are easy to navigate — potato salad, coleslaw, french fries, seasonal vegetables; I’m happy with any of them. — where the sound level is reasonable, and the tables are large enough to spread out maps and brochures. It works well for family affairs.
When I’m there for breakfast — if I don’t opt for the wonderful corned beef hash (as I said, a classic among classics), or the old-school eggs Benedict — chances are good I’ll snag the notably modern Nicosia avocado toast, which varies muchly from the standard with the addition of grilled Halloumi cheese, cherry tomatoes, a Kalimyrna fig-balsamic reduction, wildflower honey and fresh basil on ciabatta bread. All of which raises a very basic dish to a whole new level of yum!
Of course, it also does my heart good to see oatmeal on the menu, with brown sugar, raisins and milk. Just like back in the day. But hey, a chicken sausage scramble with feta cheese? Count me in! Ditto the Hawaiian bread French toast. And the really good chilaquiles with red mole and queso fresco, which is as good as it is in any Mexican restaurant.
Lunch and dinner are the same menu, though my bet is you won’t want any of the Buckets of Beers till dinnertime; they range from Coors Light to a craft selection with options that include Samuel Adams, Lagunitas IPA and Stone Buenaveza Salt & Lime Lager.
But hey – it’s always time for the old-fashioned onion rings and the crab cakes, Maggie Wong’s Chinese chicken salad and the salmon Caesar, the barbecue pulled pork sandwich and the gyro sandwich, or the Santorini wrap. And yes, there is a Greek undertone to the menu, which in cities like Chicago and New York is a given.
There are numerous burgers, ranging from a bourbon burger to a cowboy burger to a spinach-nut “burger” and a portobello mushroom “burger — for those in need. There’s a beef Stroganoff over fettuccine, braised short ribs and chicken marsala.
There’s honey-dipped fried chicken too — but where’s the meatloaf? This is the sort of restaurant that smacks of meatloaf. Which might have been on the menu back in 1945. But then, tastes have changed over the years. Though I’ve long argued that meatloaf is eternal. Maybe someday. After all, doesn’t The Only Place in Town demand meatloaf as a clear definition of what it all means?
Merrill Shindler is a Los Angeles-based freelance dining critic. Email mreats@aol.com.
The Only Place in Town
- Rating: 2.5 stars
- Address: 110 W. Sierra Madre Blvd., Sierra Madre
- Information: 626-355-3502; www.theonlyplaceintown.com
- Cuisine: Solid, down-home American
- When: Breakfast and lunch, every day; dinner, Monday through Saturday
- Details: Beer and wine
- Atmosphere: Sprawling destination for solid Americana since 1945, with a menu that’s grown over the years, but still a sense of being the restaurant everyone in Sierra Madre knows and loves.
- Prices: About $20 per person
- Cards: MC, V
- What the stars mean: 4 (World class! Worth a trip from anywhere!), 3 (Most excellent, even exceptional. Worth a trip from anywhere in Southern California.), 2 (A good place to go for a meal. Worth a trip from anywhere in the neighborhood.) 1 (If you’re hungry, and it’s nearby, but don’t get stuck in traffic going.) 0 (Honestly, not worth writing about.)
