A burger of hope

They say that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. If this is the case then I truly should have fallen in love with Los Angeles. Or at least one part of it - Big Irv’s.

It’s always been the goal of WISM to try the local and celebrate the differences in whatever forms they take, from food and drink to transport and hatwear.

With this in mind we couldn’t wait for the US, and Hollywood in particular. I anticipated pizza parlours and milkshakes, diners with glistening chrome counters and endless coffee refills.

But I didn’t expect Irv’s.

This may only be a burger stand but it is not any old burger stand.

In a world of the bland and the mediocre, the predictable and the corporate, Big Irv’s stands out like a beacon (or burger?) of hope.

We drove (no-one goes anywhere in LA without driving) over to Irv’s the night we arrived, the name almost shouting out at us from the list of bewildering food options our wonderful host, Austin, reeled off to us.

Austin is real food connoisseur, Hollywood-style. He’s put in many dedicated hours researching the various food emporia LA has to offer but somehow Irv’s sounded different. His eyes lit up when he mentioned the name, his lips started to glisten, and somewhere, deep down inside my belly started to rumble.

Before you could say “double cheeseburger, extra pickle” we were in West Hollywood, ‘Boy Town’ as it’s known locally, on account of the large gay population, parking up at the back in a special parking place (highly prized in LA) Austin seems to have negotiated with the owners.

We entered through the small, battered gate at the back and Austin, on first-name terms with the Korean owners, was welcomed like a member of the family. He set to work immediately, firing off suggestions to us from the board above the stand-up counter, whilst the owners effusively greeted their new English guests, fresh off the boat.

It’s an idiosyncratic place, a small, dilapidated joint crammed in amongst the drive-ins, the monstrous superstores and enormous liquor stores.

Mother, father and grandmother scurry about in a tiny kitchen facing onto the street, peering through small serving counters, surrounded by huge menus and photos of burgers, like an gastronomic art gallery.

A few stools line the counter, a few plastic chairs and tables sit under a low-slung roof. That’s it. No bright lights, no plush comfy chairs and definitely no wifi.

As we waited for our food I took in some of the many articles lining the walls, fading newspaper cuttings outlining Irv’s illustrious history.

Jim Morrison has eaten here, Hendrix chowed down, even Janis Joplin. It’s featured on album covers and hosted West Side Stories warring gangs the Jets and the Sharks (during breaks in filming).

And besides those that made it in Hollywood, it’s hosted thousands that are trying to, many of them finding a special place in their heart for this old place.

In an ocean of full of big sharks in the shape of the big chains, Irv’s is like a brave little penguin clinging tenaciously to a flimsy little iceberg, proud of its history and determined to remain.

Irv's is a real piece of Americana, that celebrated in film and fiction, a culture fast being lost to the monotonising march of modernity and the supremacy of the corporates.

It’s stood since 1946, knocking out tasty burgers and fries at affordable prices, scruffy, loveable and personal, one of the few remaining old stand-alone burger joints that used to serve the hard-pressed locals of LA.

As the times changed most of these have been swept up, bulldozed down to make way for another chain store.

Irv’s didn’t escape the developer’s attention and its owner decided to sell up, the site earmarked for a coffee shop chain.

Regulars and locals were horrified and launched a campaign to save it, sending hundreds of letters of protest to the city authorities, signing a petition in their thousands. A 'burger brigade' was formed and rallies held.

The campaign caught attention across the city and the entire country, the walls bearing testament to this with newspaper cuttings from far and wide. Even the Washington Post.

The campaign paid off and, eventually Irv’s was saved. The owners beam proudly when they told me of this success, of a community rallying together and saving a piece of their history, a continuing part of their culture.

It was time to sample this myself and I I buried my British sensibilities and dived on in: cheeseburger, chilli cheese fries (“you just HAVE to try these, maaaan”), drowned in sauce, seething with grease.

All served up on a paper plate illustrated with Mama Hong’s own personal message: “Just for you. Sugar Mommy’s one and only honey”, with a big pink love heart. Lara got one too: another love heart, a thumbs-up and the message: “Just for Miss England. US and England. Welcome to Hollywood!”

Every customer gets one of these, an enormous smile and maybe even a hug. The burgers aren’t bad, either.

Imagine a world without that.

Today a sign stands outside, put up by the city authorities: “Historic Building, 1946”. A burger joint, officially acknowledged and protected.

Only in America.