Arby's in Hollywood is closing its doors. Where to find your next beef and cheddar

Growing up in Los Angeles, I frequently walked past the Arbys 10 Gallon Hat on Sunset Boulevard. I've always looked at the fast food chain, known for its roast beef and cheddar sandwiches, with some curiosity, but never enough to venture inside.

Arbys came up in conversation over the years with my good friend Yes Stougaard, usually after a few libations. Her first job as a teenager was working at Arbys in West Covina. She was often amazed that I had never been there. Really? But you grew up in Los Angeles. Never? Always?

We said we were going together one day to the man we passed so often on Sunset Boulevard.

One day never came, then it closed. Earlier this month, the Arby's closed its doors after 55 years in Hollywood, citing rising food prices, inflation and California's new minimum wage law for fast food workers. The hat, which often appeared as high as the sky, was a symbol of the city. Even I romanticized the restaurant, a true slice of dying Americana. Fans lamented the loss of the neighborhood, already a hyper-modernized area populated by salad and sushi chains just down the block.

Stougaard looks back fondly on his four years working at Arbys on North Azuza Avenue in West Covina. It was 1979. She remembers having to answer the phone with a happy roast beef from the Americas, yes, sir. She can still imagine the button she pressed with her hip to steam the buns and the way the pieces of raw meat arrived in plastic bags before being roasted in the oven and sliced. She remembers the giant plastic buckets of coleslaw she made and the hash browns she fried. At the time, the chain served triangular hash browns instead of fries.

And she remembers Arbys' Lovers, the name her colleagues gave to the couple from the dentist's office down the street who came to make love in a van at the back of the parking lot. The dentist was married. The woman was much younger, his employee, not his wife.

When I heard about Hollywood closing, I called Stougaard to let him know we would never have our date at Sunset Boulevard Arbys.

My favorite was the classic beef and cheddar on an onion roll, she said. It was so compressed that the cheese melted into the bread and meat. It was like a ball of comfort. And this horse sauce!

I like beef, cheddar and onion rolls. Horsey sauce looks like a magic sauce. Why had I been sleeping on Arbys all these years?

Invigorated with a new determination to try the chain, I set out to find the Arbys closest to downtown Los Angeles. Without the Hollywood Restaurant, I would have to travel south to Inglewood, further southwest to Long Beach or Huntington Beach, or north to the San Fernando Valley.

A feeling of nostalgia for a restaurant I had never visited led me to Huntington Beach. It is one of the few wagon-style buildings to have its own neon-lit hat sign. There is a cow pattern on the tiles in the dining room. Like the one in Hollywood, this one was also built in 1969.

It's not as crowded as the nearby In-N-Out, but there is a constant line on Wednesday evenings. I ignore the more recent additions to the menu like the fried chicken sandwich and wraps and focus on the original sandwiches. I leave with a paper bag filled with a classic roast beef, a classic roast beef and cheddar and a classic roast beef and natural cheddar (for an additional $1.09), a small order of curly fries, a shake Jamocha and a four piece. mozzarella sticks. I don't believe mozzarella sticks were available on the original menu, but I enjoy mozzarella sticks and never hesitate if I see them on a menu.

I found a place on the terrace and unwrapped the sandwiches under the glow of the neon lights from the sign. Although the classic roast beef is advertised as having a sesame seed bun, all three of my sandwiches were served on an onion roll, the top browned and dotted with flecks of toasted allium. The parts of the bread that had been toasted before steaming were tough. The untoasted steamed patches were pleasantly soft.

I never really understood the meaning of thinly sliced ​​until that evening. The roast beef was incredibly thin, the grayish-pink ribbons almost translucent. The texture was slightly chewy, like an indistinguishable lunch meat. And there was a gush of salty liquid in every bite, without any of the chewiness I associate with roast beef or any other meat.

The beef on beef and natural cheddar was draped over a soft slice of waxy cheese, and the bottom bun was covered in what the chain calls Red Ranch sauce. It reminded me of super sweet honey barbecue.

Classic Beef and Cheddar replaced the slice of cheese with a pale sauce that tasted suspiciously like the cheese sauce you make with milk and the powder packet from Kraft instant macaroni and cheese boxes.

Per Stougaard's instructions, I squeezed about half a packet of horse sauce onto each bite. The sting of creamy horseradish made everything it touched exponentially better.

I don't know if I've had a nicer or curlier curly fry. Each featured a tight ring of potato. I even counted 10 intact rings on a fry. I was tempted to save it, but decided to eat it instead. The mozzarella sticks were hard logs of cheese in the middle surrounded by thick breading saturated in fat.

I downed the Jamocha shake, which was advertised as being chocolate and coffee flavored. I reached the bottom of the cup and never detected the coffee.

Turns out I haven't slept on Arbys all these years. But I'm glad I tried it. And if I'm ever in the mood for curly fries, creamy horseradish sauce, and a good coffee-chocolate shake that presents itself as chocolate, I know the trolley-style building to visit.