Do birthdays truly matter? For a middle-aged father of two, they may not carry the existential weight of youth, but they do provide a rare, socially acceptable excuse to break routine and orchestrate an adventure that would otherwise be entirely out of the question. On a recent Saturday in September, one such milestone became the driving force behind a coastal expedition: a carefully timed, highly efficient bar crawl dragging an assortment of longtime friends and family down the Southern California coastline, working a strategic route through a selection of historic beach dive bars.
For the author, this journey served a dual purpose, neatly aligning personal celebrations with professional responsibilities for regional food and culture publications. More importantly, however, it stemmed from a deeply held conviction that these old, salt-crusted pubs represent an essential, endangered stronghold of local culture. In a region where rapid gentrification, escalating real estate values, and relentless modernization continually threaten neighborhood fixtures, these establishments demand both active respect and financial support to survive.
The itinerary was designed to maximize daylight, ocean breezes, and camaraderie while respecting the reality of domestic life. The plan began relatively early on a Saturday afternoon, stretching from Santa Monica down to Manhattan Beach before ultimately moving inland for a late dinner in Torrance, a city celebrated for housing some of the finest Japanese cuisine in the United States.
The logistics of a successful group bar crawl rely heavily on flexibility. By keeping a brisk, moving itinerary and abandoning rigid expectations about attendance, the group operated smoothly. Participants could effortlessly jump on and off the caravan as their personal schedules permitted, simply updating their estimated times of arrival in a shared group chat. The journey kicked off strong in Santa Monica, bringing together a group of six that included the birthday celebrant’s father and stepmother.
Stop 1: Chez Jay – Santa Monica – 3:25 PM
Opened in 1959 and situated a mere eight-minute walk from the shoreline, Chez Jay has spent more than six decades acting as a steadfast sanctuary in a city notorious for pricing out its classic neighborhood haunts. It is a classic establishment where patrons can order a beer or a martini under two primary, albeit informal, rules: "take no pictures, and throw your peanut shells on the floor." Though the kitchen had not yet fired up for evening service during the early afternoon arrival, the communal bowls of peanuts were plentiful, and the bartenders served notably heavy pours.
Visually, the interior evokes the nostalgic warmth of an old-school Italian restaurant, characterized by deep red booths and checkered tablecloths, though the kitchen’s actual culinary identity leans firmly toward a classic steak-and-seafood destination. With strong early momentum and six participants gathered around the table, the crawl was officially underway.
Stop 2: Hinano Cafe – Venice Beach – 4:38 PM
Moving further down the coast, the second stop brought the group to Hinano Cafe, which has maintained its vibrant presence on a bustling stretch of Venice Beach since 1962. Perpetually packed and fiercely loyal to its roots, this iconic surfer hangout operates without a full liquor license, serving strictly beer and burgers alongside a traditional breakfast menu from 8:00 AM until noon.
As the group stepped inside, the party expanded with the arrival of additional friends. The atmosphere was standing-room-only, surrounded by day-drinking surfers wearing board shorts who radiated a youthful energy that gently reminded the aging fathers of the passage of time. The group paused just long enough to order and split a straightforward, highly acceptable hamburger served on a sesame seed bun for $12.50. It served as a pleasant, quick edible interlude before pressing onward down the coast.
Stop 3: Prince O’ Whales – Playa del Rey – 5:30 PM
Crossing over the marina—a notorious traffic divider within Los Angeles County—the group entered a dense pocket where three distinct dive bars sit clustered within a mere 0.2-mile stretch of an unassuming, working-class beach community. By this point in the afternoon, the sun had begun its descent, and the cooling ocean breeze offered a palpable sense of relaxation.
The group wandered into Prince O’ Whales, an establishment that has operated under its current moniker for over fifty years, following an eighteen-year stint under a previous name, "The Bowsprit." The interior features two separate indoor bars, though only one was operational for the afternoon crowd. Manned by a delightfully grumpy bartender fitting of a traditional sailor’s saloon, the main room buzzed with the loud chatter of patrons watching college football. Seeking a quieter atmosphere, the group migrated to the back patio—a serene patch of faded paint, weathered wood, exposed brick, and concrete featuring a lone ping-pong table. Surrounded by late-summer weather that exemplifies the ideal Southern California coastal lifestyle, the group settled in for another round.
Stop 4: The Harbor Room – Playa del Rey – 6:01 PM
A mere ninety-second walk brought the group to the next destination, affectionately known as "the smallest dive bar in Los Angeles." The space carries an intimate aesthetic reminiscent of a California-themed yokocho alleyway in Tokyo, lined with dark, aged wood that makes visitors feel as though they are drinking deep within the hull of a turn-of-the-century transatlantic vessel.
Here, the social dynamic expanded further when a friendly, intoxicated stranger drifted into the group’s orbit to ask an array of curious questions. Drink orders took an idiosyncratic turn when a requested vodka-soda transformed into a gin and tonic, which was swiftly followed by a gin martini accompanied by an unusual "sidecar"—literally a separate rocks glass containing a splash of rapidly warming gin.
Drawn by the aroma of nearby food, a brief foray into the adjoining Italian restaurant resulted in an enthusiastic recommendation from the staff. Moments later, a steaming foil container of hot ravioli was delivered directly to the bar table. Amidst the martinis and unexpected pasta, the distinct charm of the venue prompted reflective musings on the resilience of old-school neighborhood establishments.
Stop 5: The Shack – Playa del Rey – 6:27 PM
A quick review of smartphone photo timestamps highlighted an impressive operational feat: the group had successfully secured a round of martinis and polished off a plate of ravioli in a mere 26 minutes. Keeping to the tight schedule, the short walk to the next destination led straight to The Shack, a classic surf bar and restaurant boasting an ideal degree of weathered authenticity.
Significantly more spacious than the previous stop, the venue provided ample room at the bar. Here, the group ordered a round of wings alongside the establishment’s signature Shack Burger—a remarkable creation featuring a butterflied Louisiana hot link layered directly onto the patty, providing the juiciness, snap, and spice typically associated with premium bacon. With five—or perhaps six—drinks successfully consumed by this point in the afternoon, the birthday celebrant marked a rare test of endurance with quiet satisfaction.
Stop 6: Ercole’s – Manhattan Beach – 7:23 PM
Nearing its landmark centennial year of operation, having originally opened its doors during Prohibition under a different operational model, Ercole’s stands as a defiant neighborhood anchor. Having successfully weathered a century of shifting economics and rapidly escalating real estate prices in one of Southern California’s wealthiest coastal enclaves, it remains an uncompromising neighborhood dive.
The interior is constructed largely of aged wood and vintage beer signs, featuring a simple layout with a single line for ordering drinks and another for the restroom. The clientele represents a diverse cross-section of the local community, from older patrons in Hawaiian shirts to tattooed motorcyclists, all sharing an unspoken appreciation for the institution’s survival.
In the corner behind the bar sits a small grill operating beneath a bright yellow sign proudly declaring "no fries." The establishment’s famous cheeseburger is an exercise in chargrilled simplicity, utilizing meat sourced directly from the butcher shop next door and served in a classic basket accompanied by a bag of potato chips. Though the menu also lists a teriyaki chicken sandwich, time constraints allowed for only a hurried couple of bites before the group settled the tab, making a quick exit to notify their final dinner destination of a minor delay.
Stop 7: Torihei – Torrance – 8:00 PM and Beyond
Having maintained a disciplined approach focused on snacking rather than heavy eating throughout the coastal crawl, the transition inland to Torrance offered a welcoming shift in pace. Seated at a long table adorned with cold beers and carafes of sake, the group was greeted by some of the most comforting food imaginable.
The meal centered around Torihei’s signature simmered slab of daikon radish, served steaming in a rich dashi broth and blanketed with delicate, heat-dancing flakes of smoked, dried skipjack tuna known as katsuobushi. The dish provided an immediate, warming counterpoint to the evening breeze. The classic izakaya meal continued with tender chicken cartilage, skewered yakitori chicken meatballs, and a final comforting bowl of soborodon featuring seasoned ground chicken over rice.
With the night successfully executed, a smooth return home preceded an early bedtime well before midnight.
