“Look Phil, see how the chocolate is along the glass?”
Nancy Silverton, one of the most influential chefs in Los Angeles, and Phil Rosenthal, a television producer and host of the Netflix show “Somebody Feed Phil,” are sitting shoulder to shoulder at the counter of Pie ‘n Burger restaurant in Pasadena, examining a chocolate milkshake like it’s from another planet.
“First of all, it looks like a great shake,” she says. “I’m looking at the thickness. But you know what’s kind of nice visually? See how it’s a tiny bit furry?
12:58 p.m. Pie ‘n Burger
They both peer at the shake, two straws jutting from the thick mass of ice cream and milk.
“I can barely get it through the straw,” says Phil. “And I want to know what kind of ice cream I’m drinking.”
Rosenthal has been contemplating milkshakes, and a slew of other Americana foods for the better part of three years now. He and Silverton have partnered to open a new diner in L.A.’s Larchmont Village later this fall.
At Pie ‘n Burger, they’re examining the milkshake, hamburger and patty melt. It’s the first stop on an abbreviated food crawl for research and development for the diner.
Max and Helen’s, named for Rosenthal’s late parents, will serve Silverton’s take on diner classics. The idea is to create the diner of Rosenthal’s dreams, in half of the former Le Petit Greek space on Larchmont Boulevard.
The inspiration for the diner struck Rosenthal while filming an episode of “Somebody Feed Phil” at Palace Diner in Biddeford, Maine.
“They take the menu that’s 100 years old and they don’t do anything except elevate every single thing with great ingredients and the fact that they know how to cook,” he says. “It’s like the ultimate comfort food, best of each of these things I’ve ever had. I’m like, I want this in my neighborhood.”
He approached Silverton, who also lives in the Larchmont area, with the idea to open a diner, and she agreed.
“There used to be diners everywhere,” he says. “The other reason I want this is because I want to preserve a sense of community in my community. If you lose diners, you lose that center of town. You lose that meeting place for people rich, poor and everyone in between.”
At Pie ‘n Burger, the shake requires some exertion of the cheek muscles, thick enough to eat with a fork. It’s Thrifty French vanilla ice cream, smooth and sweet, combined with swirls of Hershey’s chocolate syrup.
We dig into plates of burgers, patty melts and French fries. A fat wedge of iceberg lettuce gives the burger its exaggerated height, layered with Thousand island, tomato, pickles and a patty blanketed in a square of melted yellow cheese.
The burger, or rather the inclusion of a burger on the Max and Helen’s menu, was one of the few things the two couldn’t agree on.
Silverton frequented the late Ships coffee shop on La Cienega Boulevard, a 24-hour diner that had toasters on every table and something called the Ship Shape Burger that Silverton remembers as more of a patty melt.
“They ground their meat every day, and it was the only place you could get your meat rare,” she says. “Then you would have really simple Thousand island dressing, griddled onions and the most buttery bread and American-style cheese.”
She argued that you could get a burger anywhere. Why not just have a patty melt, or the Ship Shape equivalent of a burger?
“She said wait until you try my patty melt and decide,” says Rosenthal. “I try the patty melt, I say this is the best patty melt I’ve ever had. We still need a burger.”
Silverton eventually relented.
“That was our big fight,” he says. “We all win.”
1:48 p.m. Fair Oaks Pharmacy
Silverton and Rosenthal are sitting at the counter of Fair Oaks Pharmacy in South Pasadena, watching as a young woman makes their vanilla and Oreo milkshakes.
Silverton admits to having never made a milkshake before she, Rosenthal and Liz Hong, culinary director of the Mozza Restaurant Group (Osteria Mozza, Pizzeria Mozza and Chi Spacca), started developing recipes for the diner.
“If you would have asked me months ago, what do you think a great milkshake is, I would have said that first of all you have to start with the best ice cream possible, most likely with the highest butter fat, and then its got to have milk,” says Silverton. “And I would have said you just have to know how to blend it. But after we started tasting milkshakes, I realized quite early on that there are many versions of a milkshake.”
The two tried dozens of shakes at places like Du-par’s, Twohey’s and Shake Shack. They contemplated buying a soft serve machine to get the right consistency. But it wasn’t until she had a shake at Fair Oaks Pharmacy that something clicked. All of the shakes she favored were made with Thrifty ice cream. And you need to jab it.
“It was masterful watching her make it,” she says, reminiscing about the young woman who made her a shake at the pharmacy months earlier. “The last girl was jabbing it with a knife as she turned it. It’s the jabbing that matters.”
We watch as the woman behind the counter uses a serrated knife to stab the ice cream in a metal cylinder. Then she places the cylinder under the blender and continues to break up the ice cream with a long spoon, starting the blender on low, then speeding it up, all the while jabbing away.
Silverton and Rosenthal sip the Oreo shake from their respective red straws, like the two are on a date and the year is 1950.
The shake clings to the straw like an icy sludge and we’re rewarded with the creamiest, most luscious Oreo shake, crowded with bits of chocolate cookies and cream.
“You know Phil, you haven’t had our shake yet,” Silverton says. “It was the last recipe we came up with because I couldn’t do it. I’m doing it today. And the patty melt.”
“Hee hee!” Phil squeals with delight, and we head to Osteria Mozza for a taste test.
2:46 p.m. Osteria Mozza
The sound of the milkshake blender fills the dining room of Silverton’s Hancock Park restaurant, bringing to mind the dreaded drill at the dentist. Hong is behind a counter with the blender, making one of Silverton’s perfected vanilla milkshakes.
“I’m using a long cocktail spoon to jab before I mix,” Hong says over the whir of the blender.
The milkshake she pours is thick and creamy, with flecks of vanilla bean paste throughout.
“It’s the best one because it has the most vanilla flavor and the consistency is right but not so thick that you’re going to pop a blood vessel in your neck,” says Rosenthal.
The formula the team settled on includes half and half instead of whole milk, milk powder and Thrifty’s ice cream.
“We made what seemed like a million before we realized not having an ice cream with high butter fat made such a difference for it to be still emulsified but not broken down,” says Silverton. “So once we did that it was just tweaking the flavors as far as adding vanilla paste. The idea of half and half to replace the butter fat and then milk powder gives it even a better texture and adds that milkiness.”
Diners will be able to order vanilla, chocolate, peanut butter banana, Oreo and strawberry milkshakes in addition to banana splits and hot fudge sundaes made with Silverton’s own hot fudge and Thrifty ice cream.
While we wait for Osteria Mozza executive chef Kirby Shaw to make a patty melt to taste, Silverton and Rosenthal run through the other items on the diner menu.
“Let’s start in the morning with cereal,” says Silverton. “Do we have Cheerios and Froot Loops and Lucky Charms in small boxes for kids? No. The only cereal I was allowed to eat when I was growing up was shredded wheat.”
Silverton will serve two big squares of shredded wheat over a splash of milk with sliced banana and dates. Also for breakfast, fluffy pancakes made with buckwheat flour and a touch of rye. A nine-grain hot cereal with salted butter and brown sugar. French toast made with challah in the style of Pain Perdu. Home fries with leeks and onions.
“Best home fries in the world,” Rosenthal interjects.
A plate called “Nancy’s Slam” will come with two eggs any style, pancakes, bacon or sausage and home fries. The sesame bagel accompanying the smoked salmon platter is from Courage Bagel.
There will be a hot meatloaf plate with mashed potatoes and a cold meatloaf sandwich. A hot, open-face turkey sandwich with mashed potatoes and gravy and cranberry sauce.
“Jell-O and doughnettes,” continues Silverton.
“Like the best doughnut holes you ever had,” Rosenthal says. “Can we talk about the hot dog?”
Silverton shows us a picture of the hot dog on her phone, topped with sauerkraut, spicy brown mustard, New York-style onion relish and pickled jalapeños. The sausage is cut in a hasselback style, creating plenty of curling, caramelized edges.
She also reimagined Rosenthal’s mother’s matzo ball soup, shrinking the balls into dense spheres fortified with plenty of duck fat.
“The whole menu is done, and right now Phil’s future son-in-law is testing all the recipes,” says Silverton, referencing chef Mason Royal.
There will be a handful of baked goods on offer, as well as a rotating selection of pies and chocolate cake.
“Best chocolate cake you ever had,” says Rosenthal.
Shaw places a patty melt before us and Rosenthal and Silverton each take a bite of a half of the sandwich. A mixture of chipotle aioli and meat juice drips down their wrists.
“That’s what a patty melt should taste like,” Silverton says. “It’s all the ingredients of a patty melt, hamburger meat, onions, secret sauce and cheese. It’s just as easy to make good food as it is to make bad food.”
“It’s phenomenal,” says Rosenthal, his fingers shiny with butter. “Best patty melt you ever had.”
The meat has the funk of a good, dry-aged steak, rare in the middle with a thick, salty crust. The New School American cheese is gooey and the grilled onions are sweet and jammy, spilling out the back of the sandwich. There’s a kick from the Calabrian chiles in the aioli and I can’t tell if my eyes are watering because of the spice or the sheer bliss of the meat, cheese and butter in my hands. I soil what seems like every napkin in the restaurant and could really use a shower. It is, as Rosenthal claimed, the best patty melt I’ve ever had.
With both Silverton and Rosenthal’s schedules so packed, they’ve yet to choose an opening date for the diner. As of press time, the pair are targeting for mid-October, provided inspections go well. But Rosenthal says he plans to simply open the doors with no announcement.
“I’ve never been more excited about any restaurant opening,” he says. “Forget that I’m involved. Just as a fan. And I can’t think of a better living tribute to someone than naming a place that you love after them.”
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