Letter of Recommendation Los Angeles
Lunch at the Chateau Marmont Is the Ultimate Treat to Yourself
What is there to say that hasn’t already been said about the Chateau Marmont? It’s the Chateau, baby—one of the most romanticized, mythologized, memorialized properties in a city high on its own supply of the stuff. And yet, here we are, spilling more ink on the place—willingly, I should add—to say the one thing that might not have already been made clear, which is: that it’s a very, very nice place to have lunch.
Yes, it’s worth reading up on the legendary hotel’s history and mystique. Vanity Fair, naturally, has a detailed rundown, thickly frosted with celebrity gossip, that successfully draws a parallel between the evolution of the property since its completion in 1929 and its twin flame, Hollywood itself. It’s a fun read! So is this New York Times story, which likens the appeal of the Chateau to “the attraction of Hollywood in its olden, ‘golden days.’” (This article came out in 1974.) This is just the tip of the iceberg; there are whole books dedicated to the subject.
I can’t compete with the gilded celebrities and their assorted hanger-ons who’ve retreated to the Chateau for months at a time, finding privacy and like-minded friends among the verdant foliage. I have never hosted a debaucherous party there (as Leonardo DiCaprio did when he turned 21); nor held court opining about politics (as Hunter S. Thompson liked to); certainly I have not attempted to buy the place outright (as Francis Ford Coppola once considered).
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What I have done as a mere plebe is eat eggs benedict in the lush courtyard, ringed by oversized monstera and ferns. I have done this multiple times—first, as an Eve Babitz-pilled visitor to Los Angeles in my 20s, flush and heady with the idea of the Chateau more than anything else. At the time, it was a funny moment of California cosplay for me; I remember giggling through my mimosa as I tried not to give away my tourist status.
A decade or so and a pandemic later, as a newly relocated Angeleno, I returned to the Chateau. I was frankly surprised to see lunch and brunch reservations available on Resy; for decades the hotel has built its reputation on exclusivity. Chateau representatives declined to elaborate about the change in policy; it’s true that mere mortals could always, technically, walk in. But I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, and lunch at the Chateau feels very much like a present to yourself. Tourist, celebrity, or even jaded food writer: nobody is immune to the charms of the Chateau.
This is intentional. When hotelier André Balazs bought the hotel in 1990, he undertook a sensitive renovation, designed essentially to make it appear as though he was doing nothing at all. He largely succeeded, and stepping in to the lobby today still feels like entering a cozy, amber-hued time warp, complete with overstuffed velvet armchairs and an elaborate iron chandelier.
There was no restaurant at all until 2003, and what’s there today possesses none of the slick, soulless aesthetic that plagues many hotel restaurants. Most of the seating fans out into the canopied courtyard; I was led to my table by an impeccably-postured maitre’d, passing a burbling fountain along the way. There were no visibly hungover celebrities dining alongside me on this Sunday late morning; but there was a peppy guest cheerfully circumnavigating the request to “please refrain from taking photographs” printed on the menu by instead taking and loudly narrating…a video, presumably to share on social media later.
Part of what’s so wonderful about the Chateau is the inherent paradox of dining there—you’re here to see, and in this extremely online moment, be seen—but also to disappear.
The food at Chateau Marmont is not revolutionary. There is a $29 shrimp cocktail. There are egg breakfasts and a char-grilled Wagyu burger and truffle fries. The spaghetti bolognese is listed as “the” spaghetti bolognese. Still, you should eat here. The vibes are flawless. The service is unfailing polite. The pacing is as snappy as it needs to be, or as languid as you like—it would go against the entire ethos of the place to hustle guests out. Part of what’s so wonderful about the Chateau is the inherent paradox of dining there—you’re here to see, and in this extremely online moment, be seen—but also to disappear.
It’s true that in this digital-first era, some of the Chateau’s mystique is gone. Celebrities only occasionally behave poorly there these days, or at least they do a better job of keeping it behind closed doors. (And it is not immune to controversy: in 2020, several former employees accused hotel management of perpetuating a toxic work environment, allegations which the hotel’s legal team has denied.)
Still, we love our institutions in Los Angeles—ironically, in a town obsessed with youth, the hospitality-world old guards are still worshipped—and the Chateau is very much in its classics era. It has become a character in its own film, achieving a fitting form of Hollywood transcendence. And it’s still damn near impossible for me to turn down an opportunity to visit. The lore and the lure are both very real, even if going for lunch today is more like indulging a fantasy. In a city built on make-believe, though, is that so wrong?
Jamie Feldmar is Resy’s Los Angeles editor and a five-time cookbook author. Follow her on Instagram. Follow Resy, too.
