Dip trip: downtown eateries fight for paternity of sandwich.

SOME rivalries never get stale. Take the matter of L.A.'s century-old battle over a beef sandwich au jus.

That the French Dip, an unlikely Los Angeles culinary export, was born at the center of the city in the early 1900s is not in dispute. It's the details that get fuzzy--specifically which of the two downtown restaurants claiming to have created the famous sandwich actually did.

Cole's P.E. Buffet opened in early 1908, Philippe the Original later that year. The owners of Cole's say their forebears came up with the French Dip just months after starting up. Philippe's owners say the sandwich originated in their kitchens in 1918.

The truth behind which restaurant invented the French Dip may be lost to history.

"They are not recognized by any historical society or California or L.A.," Ali Mazarei, Cole's general manager, said of his competitor. "The reason why we are historical is because we originated the French Dip sandwich." Mazarei's family bought the restaurant in 1979."

While the city's Cultural Affairs Commission has confirmed Cole's landmark status, its designation actually comes from being the longest continually operating restaurant in the city, not its sandwich innovation.

"We don't have a French Dip department," said Jay Oren, the commission's director of Architecture and Historic Preservation.

And Philippe is not without friends in high places. County Supervisor Gloria Molina recently issued a press release lauding it as the originator of the sandwich, although that was based more on received wisdom than empirical evidence.

"Philippe's is the originator of the French Dip sandwich in the hearts and minds of many people," said Roxane Marquez, Molina's press secretary. "Supervisor Molina is one of them--with all due respect to Cole's."

Changing fortunes

Henry Cole opened his restaurant in the basement of the three-year-old Pacific Electric building at the corner of Sixth and Los Angeles streets, at the time the terminus for L.A.'s streetcars.

According to restaurant lore, the French Dip was born when a customer came into Cole's and asked the cook to dip his bread in the meat's juice because it was too tough on his gums.

Tucked in the basement at the southern end of Skid Row, it's a testament to the drawing power of the French Dip that Cole's has lasted close to 100 years.

The restaurant looks every bit its age. The floor remains the original cream-colored tile that's been trodden over the decades by stockbrokers, actors and politicians. The original cash register still rings up sales, surrounded by walls lined with early 20th century signs advising women to "kindly do your soliciting discreetly" and explaining that the bar doesn't "extend credit to politicians." Its Tiffany stained glass windows are the same ones commissioned by Henry Cole for the restaurant's opening.

When Mazarei's family acquired Cole's in 1979, annual revenues exceeded $1 million. By 2002 they were nearly half that, though they have rebounded recently and may hit $600,000 this year.

Residential development downtown has gathered steam recently--including the $40 million conversion of the 500,000-square-foot Pacific Electric Building to 300 rental loft units--but the Mazareis' enthusiasm remains muted.

In part, that's a result of the impact from the development of Staples Center, which boosted the fortunes of its immediate area but sent a stream of homeless into the area around the restaurant.

"The problem right now in this area is there's no community," he said. "That can be very difficult for business."

View from uptown

The neighborhood around Philippe's has its own distinct personality. At the busy corner of Alameda and Ord streets, across from Union Station and near the L.A. County Jail, sheriff's deputies and transit employees make for a vibrant lunchtime crowd.

"They've got a different location and they're busy and more successful because of where they are, right across from Union Station," says Mazarei. "We're more word of mouth."

Both restaurant owners acknowledge the other's claim to the origination of the French Dip, and while they quietly dispute the competition's paternity, neither owner gets too worked up about it.

"There's really no story there," said Mazarei. Still, press a little harder and he reveals at least a token rivalry between the two restaurants.

"Philippe's used to be a whorehouse," he confides.

That's an open secret as far as John Binder is concerned.

Binder, a general manager of Philippe's and a descendant of brothers Harry, Dave and Frank Martin who bought the restaurant from founder Philippe Mathieu in 1927, confirmed that its building once had brothel upstairs.

"If you have lunch here, you can see the partitions between the rooms upstairs," said John Binder. Philippe moved to the current address in 1951 when its original site was closed by construction of the Hollywood (101) Freeway. According to Philippe's history, the French Dip was created after Philippe Mathieu accidentally dropped sandwich bread into the hot juice at the bottom of a beef-roasting pan. The police officer Mathieu was serving said he would take the sandwich anyway.

It went over so well he returned the next day with some friends and asked for more dipped sandwiches.

Just as they have differing accounts of the creation the French Dip, Philippe and Cole's also have different ways to serve the order.

At Philippe, with its swirling fans and sawdust, patrons form lines (which can get very long during the lunch hours) in front of a long counter with about eight servers. The $4.40 sandwich features bread pre-dipped by the counter staff.

At Cole's, where it's buffet style and noticeably quieter, the $5.39 French Dip is accompanied by an extra bowl of juice. "That," says a Cole's chef, "is the only way to eat a French Dip."

At first munch, the two sandwiches seem about the same. The roast beef seeps with juice and they're each about nine inches long. But for those whose hunger pangs on the heavier side, Cole's might be a better choice.

Taking a diplomatic stance, Los Angeles Times restaurant critic S. Irene Virbila wouldn't pick a favorite.

"Philippe's has their famous mustard that makes a difference for many people," said Virbila, who gave the eatery a mostly positive review last year. As for Cole's, "It feels cozy in a way. The kind of place you could go by yourself and bring a book or a magazine, have a sandwich and a beer."

And what makes a really good French dip sandwich? Virbila says it starts with the bun.

"It shouldn't be so soft that it falls apart the minute it meets that juice," she said. "The meat has to be sliced pretty thin and it has to be tender. If you have to dig at it, that's not going to work either. It's all about fairly tender, soft textures all fused with the juices that the meats been cooking on."