In 1911, the Mathieu brothers opened the New Poodle Dog French Restaurant (perhaps named after the famous Old Poodle Dog in San Francisco) at 156 N. Spring St. It was a white-tablecloth place that advertised live music every night. After two years of this sawdust-free dining venture, they closed it and opened another inexpensive place at 617 N. Alameda.
"I think the New Poodle Dog was more formal than he wanted, with its orchestra and so on," Guilhem says. "He was a farm boy. He had simple tastes."
For The Record
Los Angeles Times Wednesday, April 23, 2008 Home Edition Main News Part A Page 2 National Desk 1 inches; 41 words Type of Material: Correction
Philippe's: In the Los Angeles Times Magazine's April 6 issue, a caption with an article about Philippe the Original misspelled the last name of a woman who has worked at the restaurant for 38 years. She is Juanita Gonzalez, not Gonzales.
For The Record
Los Angeles Times Sunday, May 04, 2008 Home Edition Los Angeles Times Magazine Part I Page 14 Lat Magazine Desk 1 inches; 21 words Type of Material: Correction
Philippe's: A caption accompanying "The Big Dipper" in the April 6 issue referred to Juanita Gonzales. The correct spelling is Gonzalez.
In 1918, Philippe Mathieu moved to the auspicious location at 246 Aliso St., where he first served his French dipped sandwiches.
Probably no L.A. food subject has been so much debated as the origin of the French dip, and the controversy is not about to die because there's no evidence to settle the matter. One story is that the French dip was invented at another downtown restaurant, Cole's P.E. Buffet, in 1908. In this narrative, a cook dipped a roll in gravy to accommodate a customer who had a hard time chewing because of his bad teeth. Cole's is still around too, though it's closed at the moment. It was sold last year, and well-known chef Neal Fraser (Grace, BLD) plans to tweak Cole's French dip sandwich when the place reopens in the fall. "We want it to be at least as good as Phillipe's," he says.
Philippe's, for the record, has never had to rethink its dip.
There are three stories connected with how Philippe's French dipped sandwich was born. In 1951, Mathieu told a Times reporter, "One day a customer saw some gravy in the bottom of a large pan of roast meat. He asked me if I would mind dipping one side of the French roll in that gravy. I did, and right away five or six others wanted the same." He quickly ran out of gravy. "But," he said, "it put me wise." The next day he had a gallon of gravy ready, but so many people wanted dip sandwiches that he still ran out.
Grandson Philippe tells a slightly different version. "It was frugality on his part," he says. "A fireman came over, maybe it was on a Monday, when there were leftover rolls. [Mathieu] would use them up although they were stale. The fireman complained that the roll was dry, so Philippe dipped it, basically to get rid of the guy." This might be more likely--in 1951, Mathieu may have preferred to credit a customer rather than a stale roll. Needless to say, Philippe's never had much of a problem with stale rolls after L.A. fell in love with French dips.
