Over the summer, my roommates and I road-tripped to Southern California. Beaches. Sun. Smog. And lots of food.
While in Los Angeles, we ate at Fred 62, an old-fashioned diner that is open 24/7 (praise) and sells everything from enormous breakfast plates to towering milkshakes.
The amount of people squeezed into this little diner was amazing. There were girlfriends gossiping, families corralling toddlers into the vinyl booths, and writers taking a lunch break while scribbling in their notebooks. I bet they were writing a screenplay for a TV show. I was the inspiration for a witty character to be portrayed by Mindy Kaling. Okay, maybe not. But this is L.A.
We sat at the bar, because that’s what you do in a diner. You swivel on a stool with plastic that sticks to your thighs and you sip soda out of a straw like a five-year-old. You look at the wall plastered with black-and-white pictures of old Hollywood stars who definitely have never eaten here, but you’ll pretend they did. You feel retro and perfectly at home in your giant sunglasses and big hair (thanks, California humidity).
Okay, so the atmosphere is spot-on. But what about the food? Everyone knows that a chocolate malt and an order of french fries is the lunch of champions, and we were champions that day at Fred 62.
Have you ever had a real malt? Like one with real malt powder? Cause this is the real deal. A malt has so much more substance than a plain old milkshake. It’s malty (duh), creamy, and chocolatey. By the way, I spell it chocolatey, but I once got into an argument with someone at Wendy’s who insisted that the spelling of ‘chocolaty’ on the Frosty cup was correct. That person doesn’t have a food blog, so I can do whatever the crap I want.
So we’ve got the perfect amount of malt, an ample amount of chocolate, and the goodness of a small mountain of whipped cream. And, of course, there’s a cold metal glass overflowing with whatever portion of the malt didn’t fit in my first glass. It was one of the best chocolate malts I’ve ever had. Yup.
You know the stereotype of Los Angeles as just a bunch of super skinny actresses? Those actresses probably have never sipped a chocolate malt at Fred 62. What a sad life.
Fred 62 is located at 1850 N Vermont Ave in Los Angeles, California.