Do birthdays truly matter? For a middle-aged father of two, they may not carry the existential weight of youth, but they serve as a rare and vital excuse to break free from domestic routines. Recently, one such milestone became the perfect justification to herd an assortment of long-time friends down the Southern California coastline for a meticulously timed tour of historic beach dive bars. For the author, utilizing professional assignments for Eater and Punch to rationalize—and perhaps slightly subsidize—a birthday bar crawl has become a cherished tradition. Beyond personal celebration, these salt-crusted pubs represent an essential, rapidly disappearing stronghold of regional culture, demanding both community respect and financial patronage.
The expedition unfolded on a sun-drenched Saturday in September, prioritizing crisp ocean air, camaraderie, and an array of modest bar snacks—leaning heavily on classic tavern burgers. Moving deliberately from Santa Monica down to Manhattan Beach, the crawl ultimately pivoted inland toward Torrance, renowned for housing some of the finest Japanese cuisine in the United States.
The strategy behind the itinerary was twofold: starting early enough to capture the daylight and ocean breeze while ensuring a reasonable return to normal domestic sleep schedules. A successful bar crawl, after all, relies on flexibility, allowing participants to drift in and out as their schedules permit. Embracing a brisk pace, the group moved swiftly from one location to the next, unbothered by who arrived precisely on time, relying instead on estimated times of arrival broadcasted through a dedicated group chat.
Stop 1: Chez Jay — Santa Monica — 3:25 p.m.
Opened in 1959 just a short walk from the Pacific shore, Chez Jay has long stood as a resilient sanctuary in a metropolitan landscape where historic neighborhood watering holes are frequently priced out of existence. It is a venue designed for classic martinis and cold beer, governed by a pair of famously tongue-in-cheek rules: take no pictures, and throw your peanut shells on the floor. While the photographic rule may have been momentarily bent, the hospitality remained entirely unpretentious, featuring heavy pours and an abundance of peanuts. Although the kitchen had not yet opened for evening service, the interior—framed by red vinyl booths and red-and-white checkered tablecloths—evoked the nostalgic charm of a classic mid-century steak and seafood house. The afternoon commenced with a strong showing of six attendees, including the author’s father and stepmom.
Stop 2: Hinano Cafe — Venice Beach — 4:38 p.m.
Operating along a bustling commercial artery of Venice Beach since 1962, Hinano Cafe represents the quintessential surfer bar. Permanently bustling, the establishment serves beer and burgers—operating without a full liquor license—alongside a traditional breakfast menu served from morning until noon. As the group expanded with the arrival of additional friends, pitchers of beer flowed in a standing-room-only environment surrounded by youthful day-drinkers in board shorts. Rather than lingering indefinitely among a crowd significantly younger and more vibrant than the gathering of graying fathers, the group paused just long enough to split a $12.50 hamburger served on a sesame seed bun. It proved to be a perfectly acceptable culinary intermezzo, though one best appreciated with the nostalgic atmosphere of 1975.
Stop 3: Prince O’ Whales — Playa del Rey — 5:30 p.m.
Having crossed the marina—a notorious traffic divider within Los Angeles County—the group entered a compact cluster of three historic bars situated within a 0.2-mile stretch of a quieter, working-class beach community. As the late-summer sun began to dip, the ocean breeze offered a palpable sense of relaxation. Prince O’ Whales has served patrons under its current moniker for over five decades, following an earlier 18-year run under the name The Bowsprit. Featuring two indoor bars—one of which was closed for the afternoon—the saloon welcomed guests with the sort of authentically gruff bartender expected in a classic sailor’s tavern. Amidst a lively crowd engrossed in college football, the group retreated to the rear patio, a serene enclave of weathered wood, faded paint, and concrete complemented by a ping-pong table and quintessential Southern California coastal weather.
Stop 4: The Harbor Room — Playa del Rey — 6:01 p.m.
A brief 90-second stroll brought the group to an establishment widely recognized as the smallest dive bar in Los Angeles. With its intimate dimensions and rich wood paneling, the space evokes a California-themed yokocho alleyway in Tokyo, crossed with the rustic interior of a turn-of-the-century transatlantic vessel. Amidst friendly interactions with local patrons, a mix-up involving drink orders yielded a spontaneous gin martini accompanied by a literal "sidecar"—a rocks glass containing a splash of rapidly warming gin. Wandering into the adjoining Italian restaurant, the group was persuaded by friendly staff to sample a steaming hot container of freshly prepared ravioli delivered straight to the table.
Stop 5: The Shack — Playa del Rey — 6:27 p.m.
A review of smartphone timestamps highlighted the impressive efficiency of enjoying a round of martinis and a plate of ravioli in just 26 minutes before migrating to the next destination. The Shack, a classic surf bar and restaurant, offered a more spacious interior complete with authentic wear and tear. Finding seating at the bar, the group ordered wings and the signature Shack Burger, notable for its inclusion of a butterflied Louisiana hot link that added a savory, spicy snap to the dish. The afternoon’s sustained endurance through multiple rounds of drinks served as a satisfying reminder of capacities rarely tested in daily domestic life.
Stop 6: Ercole’s — Manhattan Beach — 7:23 p.m.
Nearing its centenary of operation—having opened its doors during Prohibition—Ercole’s stands as a defiant neighborhood institution that has successfully weathered escalating real estate pressures in an affluent coastal enclave. The interior is a mosaic of aged wood and vintage beer signs, featuring a distinct queuing system for the bar and restroom. Patrons ranging from older residents in Hawaiian shirts to local bikers share a mutual appreciation for the tavern’s timeless atmosphere. In the corner behind the bar sits a small grill positioned beneath a yellow sign proudly proclaiming "no fries." The renowned cheeseburger, crafted from meat sourced at the adjacent butcher shop, is served simply in a basket alongside a bag of potato chips. Pressing onward against the clock, the group departed promptly to maintain their evening schedule.
Stop 7: Torihei — Torrance — 8:05 p.m.
Having maintained a steady balance of snacking throughout the afternoon coastal crawl, the group arrived at their final destination: a spacious table at Torihei in Torrance, surrounded by beer and sake. The menu offered immediate comfort through traditional izakaya specialties, highlighted by a simmered slab of daikon radish in dashi broth blanketed with katsuobushi flakes. Accompanied by tender chicken cartilage, grilled chicken skewers, and skewers of chicken meatballs, the meal concluded with a comforting bowl of soborodon featuring ground chicken and rice.
The evening concluded successfully, with a safe return home, a shower, and bed well before 11:15 p.m., marking a thoroughly executed birthday tradition.