Do birthdays truly matter? Not really. But they do serve, at the very least, as a rare and justifiable excuse to execute an itinerary that a middle-aged father of two might not ordinarily undertake on a standard weekend. For one recent September birthday, that milestone became the catalyst for dragging an assortment of friendship flotsam down the Southern California coastline, navigating a carefully timed progression of classic beach dive bars. This endeavor also marked the second time that assignments for publications like Eater and Punch have been expertly leveraged to rationalize—or perhaps entirely subsidize—a birthday bar crawl stretching across the Los Angeles map.
The underlying philosophy guiding this expedition is simple yet deeply felt: these old, salt-crusted pubs represent an essential, rapidly dwindling stronghold of regional culture. In a metropolitan landscape that constantly modernizes and prices out its historic establishments, these neighborhood institutions demand both our respect and our financial patronage to survive.
The crawl unfolded on a Saturday in September, characterized by a steady rotation of drinks and snacks—though heavily weighted toward bites of iconic bar burgers. The route traced a path from the historic sands of Santa Monica down to Manhattan Beach, before finally wandering inland for a late-night Japanese dinner in Torrance, a city renowned for housing some of the absolute best Japanese culinary options in the United States.
The operational plan was designed with pragmatic constraints in mind. The group aimed to start relatively early in the afternoon, soaking in as much sunlit ocean breeze as possible while still ensuring that the birthday boy could secure a normal amount of sleep before waking up at traditional, early-morning dad hours. The beauty of a well-executed bar crawl lies in its inherent flexibility, allowing participants to jump on and off the caravan as their personal schedules and whims dictate. There is a distinct art to maintaining a brisk itinerary, moving quickly from place to place without sweating who shows up or departs at any given moment. The secret is simply instructing friends to drop their necessary estimated times of arrival into the group chat whenever applicable.
Stop 1: Chez Jay – Santa Monica – 3:25 p.m.
Opened in 1959 and situated a mere eight-minute walk from the shoreline, Chez Jay has successfully weathered decades of urban transformation, remaining a steadfast refuge in a city notorious for pricing out its legacy neighborhood spots. It is a venue where patrons can comfortably settle in for a martini or a beer under a pair of deceptively simple house rules: "take no pictures, and throw your peanut shells on the floor"—though at least one rule was cheerfully bent during the festivities.
While the kitchen had not yet fired up for evening service when the group arrived, the communal peanuts were plentiful, and the bartenders poured drinks with a heavy, uncompromising hand. The interior, defined by red booths and red checkerboard tablecloths, evokes the nostalgic aesthetic of an old-school Italian eatery, though Chez Jay operates fundamentally as a classic steak-and-seafood establishment for dinner. The afternoon began on robust footing, with six early arrivals joining the fold, including the birthday celebrant’s father and stepmom.
Stop 2: Hinano Cafe – Venice Beach – 4:38 p.m.
Moving down the coast, the tour arrived at Hinano Cafe, a fixture operating on a bustling, high-traffic stretch of Venice Beach since 1962. This perpetually packed venue has earned legendary status as a quintessential surfer hangout, serving up straightforward pitchers of beer and dependable burgers—notably operating without a full liquor license. True to its surfer-bar pedigree, Hinano also opens its doors early, serving breakfast from 8 a.m. until noon.
By the time the group settled into the standing-room-only atmosphere, our numbers had swelled with the addition of several more friends. Pitchers of beer flowed freely amidst a crowd of board-short-wearing day drinkers who possessed a youthful aesthetic that made this gaggle of graying dads acutely aware of their own vintage. The group paused just long enough to order and split a hamburger, an edible intermezzo featuring a perfectly acceptable patty on a sesame seed bun priced at a modest $12.50. It was the kind of place where one might happily linger longer if transported back to 1975.
Stop 3: Prince O’ Whales – Playa del Rey – 5:30 p.m.
Having crossed the marina—the de facto traffic dividing line of Los Angeles County—the crawl shifted into a concentrated cluster of three historic watering holes situated within a tight 0.2-mile stretch of a hidden, working-class beach community. The afternoon sun had begun its descent, and the cooling ocean breeze worked wonders on the group’s collective posture, though the steady stream of drinks may have played a supporting role.
The group sauntered into Prince O’ Whales, an establishment serving drinks under its current moniker for over five decades, preceded by another 18 years operating under the historic name "The Bowsprit." The interior features two separate indoor bars, though one remained closed for the afternoon shift. The bartender on duty projected the exact brand of pleasant grumpiness one hopes to encounter in a proper sailor’s saloon, while the main room buzzed with patrons loudly tracking college football—a subtle reminder of the advancing age of the birthday party. Seeking a quieter atmosphere, the group migrated to the back patio, a serene, sun-baked patch of cement, brick, faded paint, and weathered wood complete with a ping-pong table. The stop was perfectly punctuated by the idyllic late-summer weather that defines coastal Southern California living.
Stop 4: The Harbor Room – Playa del Rey – 6:01 p.m.
A brief 90-second walk brought the group to a destination affectionately known as "the smallest dive bar in Los Angeles." The intimate space channels the energy of a California-themed yokocho alley in Tokyo, wrapped in rich, old wood that gives visitors the distinct sensation of drinking deep within the hull of a turn-of-the-century vessel crossing the Atlantic.
A friendly, highly communicative stranger drifted into the group’s orbit, asking a barrage of good-natured questions. Drink orders encountered a charmingly classic mix-up when an intended vodka-soda transmuted into a gin and tonic, prompting a swift pivot to a gin martini. The martini arrived accompanied by a literal "sidecar"—incredulously presented as a separate rocks glass holding a splash of rapidly warming gin.
Drawn by curiosity, a foray into the adjoining Italian restaurant yielded an impromptu food order after some persuasive encouragement from the staff. Nearing the end of the martini, a foil container of steaming hot ravioli was delivered directly to the table. Surrounded by the timeless charm of the room, the celebrant couldn’t help but muse that if domestic life ever took a drastic turn, paying rent on one of those worn barstools while contemplating life’s mysteries would not be the worst contingency plan.
Stop 5: The Shack – Playa del Rey – 6:27 p.m.
Reviewing digital photo timestamps later revealed the impressive operational efficiency of consuming a round of martinis and a plate of ravioli in a mere 26 minutes. Maintaining momentum, the group made an even shorter walk to the next destination: The Shack, a classic surf bar and restaurant boasting an impeccably curated level of authentic wear and tear that feels almost cinematically designed.
The venue offered a bit more spatial breathing room, allowing the party to secure spots at the bar. Here, they ordered a round of the signature Shack Wings and the legendary Shack Burger to share. The signature burger arrives crowned with a butterflied Louisiana hot link split down the middle, functioning essentially as a juicier, snappier, and spicier alternative to traditional bacon. Meanwhile, the birthday celebrant remained quietly impressed by his physical resilience, successfully navigating five—or perhaps six—drinks across the afternoon, a capacity that rarely gets tested in modern domestic life.
Stop 6: Ercole’s – Manhattan Beach – 7:23 p.m.
Nearing its centennial anniversary—having first opened its doors during Prohibition, though not continuously as a bar—Ercole’s could easily anchor an entire evening as the flagship destination of a crawl. Known widely among locals as the home of the best dive bar burger in Los Angeles County, this defiant establishment has steadfastly resisted the pressures of skyrocketing real estate values, preserving its status as an authentic neighborhood dive.
The interior feels like a sacred, wood-paneled sanctuary insulated from the wealth of the surrounding beach community, decorated heavily with vintage beer signs. The operational layout is delightfully straightforward: one line for ordering drinks and another for the restroom. The diverse clientele—ranging from sun-weathered seniors in Hawaiian shirts to heavily tattooed bikers—all share a palpable appreciation for the institution’s survival.
In the corner behind the bar sits a small flat-top grill positioned directly beneath a bright yellow sign proudly proclaiming "no fries." The cheeseburger served here is a masterclass in chargrilled simplicity, utilizing beef sourced directly from the butcher shop next door, served simply in a basket alongside a humble bag of potato chips. Although the menu cheekily lists a teriyaki chicken sandwich, longtime patrons note its mythical status. Reluctantly cutting the visit short to meet an impending dinner reservation, the group nudged their way out into the evening air.
Stop 7: Torihei – Torrance – 8:00 p.m.
Because the afternoon crawl relied on strategic snacking rather than heavy sit-down meals, the transition to Torihei offered a welcome culinary shift. Settled around a long table adorned with cold beers and carafes of sake, the group found immediate comfort in the izakaya’s simmered slab of daikon radish, served steaming in a rich dashi broth and blanketed generously in fluttering katsuobushi flakes.
The traditional izakaya specializes in yakitori—expertly grilled chicken skewers—and oden, featuring various ingredients simmered in seasoned broth. The group shared rounds of beer, crunchy tender chicken cartilage, and smoky grilled chicken meatballs before bringing the evening to a satisfying close with bowls of soborodon, featuring seasoned ground chicken over rice.
Having navigated the coastline, sampled historic dives, and enjoyed fine food, the birthday father arrived home, showered, and tucked into bed comfortably before 11:15 p.m. By any reasonable metric, the mission was a resounding success.