This must be Venice
The casual observer might find a disconnect between Venice’s two most defining elements: a network of European-style urban canals with quaint arched bridges and paddling ducks, and a carnival-worthy boardwalk where strongmen flex, vendors offer to inscribe your name on a grain of rice and gravity-defying skateboarders launch themselves skyward.
Both, though, flow from the vision of a New Jersey-born developer named Abbot Kinney (as in the area’s popular shopping thoroughfare) who, having made millions in the tobacco trade, sunk a good deal of it into the coastal marshlands here to create a city modeled after its Italian namesake, right down to the canals and gondolas. As of July 5, 1905, Venice of America was open for business. But ever the consummate businessman, Kinney also provided a more immediate attraction to lure visitors; an amusement pier that jutted out over the water, filled with the kinds of rides, attractions and spectacles that would establish it as the Coney Island of the Pacific.
Get to know Los Angeles through the places that bring it to life. From restaurants to shops to outdoor spaces, here’s what to discover now.
Through more than a century of cyclical busts and booms, the seaside community shifted and changed; after its infrastructure fell into disrepair, the independent city was annexed by Los Angeles (in October 1925), many of the original canals were filled in (1929) and the amusement piers would burn (1920 and 1924) and shutter (1946). What remained are the two most visible reminders of that bygone era; a half-dozen canals and a boardwalk that continues to radiate BPE — big pier energy — with an estimated 28,000 to 30,000 people visiting each day.
In between those two tourist-attracting caricatures is a much more nuanced version of Venice: the indie bookstores, top-notch taco shops, dimly lit bars, fancy restaurants and human-powered carousels that fill the bellies and nourish souls of those who call Venice home. As idyllic as that all sounds, the city-turned-neighborhood isn’t immune from the problems that come with haves and have-nots living cheek by jowl in near-paradise; crime, a lack of adequate parking and stalled projects aimed at helping the substantial unhoused population.
As one of my Venice-dwelling colleagues told me when I first began to explore the neighborhood: “I should tell you Venice is more than just the beach.” And she’s right. For a different view of Venice, read on.
What's included in this guide
Anyone who’s lived in a major metropolis can tell you that neighborhoods are a tricky thing. They’re eternally malleable and evoke sociological questions around how we place our homes, our neighbors and our communities within a wider tapestry. In the name of neighborly generosity, we included gems that may linger outside of technical parameters. Instead of leaning into stark definitions, we hope to celebrate all of the places that make us love where we live.
Showing Places
(Alon Goldsmith / For The Times)
Greet the day like a local at the Cow's End Cafe
Venice Coffeehouse
If you want to start your day the way the locals do, head down Washington Boulevard toward the ocean. Three doors down from a gleaming soulless Starbucks and just a block and a half from the sand, stop at the weather-beaten building marked by the business end of a Holstein. This is where leather-skinned locals — some holding surf gear, others the leashes of canine companions — convene in the early morning hours to caffeinate, break their fast and solve the world’s problems.
Opened in 1989, the interior is packed to overflowing with cow kitsch decor (think cow creamers, figurines, cookie jars and the like) and a full-size cow statue grazes contentedly, full udder bulging, in the window above the front door. The menu is just as packed, with all manner of sandwiches, salads, wraps, bowls and beyond. But you’re here for the served-all-day breakfast, a pastry from the glass case at the counter, a tortilla-wrapped breakfast (a wrapp with an inexplicable extra “p”) or a baker’s dozen of bagel sandwich options. Grab something simple — the bagel egg sandwich that layers in bacon and cheddar is breakfast comfort food at its finest — then go a little wild in the coffee drink department (lattes with a dash of banana-flavored or coconut -flavored syrup seem to be a thing here). Enjoy until the cows come home.
Opened in 1989, the interior is packed to overflowing with cow kitsch decor (think cow creamers, figurines, cookie jars and the like) and a full-size cow statue grazes contentedly, full udder bulging, in the window above the front door. The menu is just as packed, with all manner of sandwiches, salads, wraps, bowls and beyond. But you’re here for the served-all-day breakfast, a pastry from the glass case at the counter, a tortilla-wrapped breakfast (a wrapp with an inexplicable extra “p”) or a baker’s dozen of bagel sandwich options. Grab something simple — the bagel egg sandwich that layers in bacon and cheddar is breakfast comfort food at its finest — then go a little wild in the coffee drink department (lattes with a dash of banana-flavored or coconut -flavored syrup seem to be a thing here). Enjoy until the cows come home.
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(Alon Goldsmith / For The Times)
Get a celeb-worthy facial at OSEA Skincare Studio
Venice Skin-care services
Tucked away on an under-the-radar stretch of Abbot Kinney Boulevard, this blink-and-you’ll-miss-it spot with a beach-cottage vibe serves as both the headquarters of seaweed-focused, clean-beauty brand OSEA Malibu (pronounced oh-see-uh, it’s an acronym for ocean, sun, earth and atmosphere) and a two-treatment-room skincare studio that offers if not life-changing facials, definitely life-affirming ones that deploy the same kinds of cleansers, scrubs, potions and lotions that celebrities like Victoria Beckham, Brie Larson and Emma Roberts rely on for their closeup-worthy beauty routines.
On a recent visit, an aesthetician named Christina gave me something called a cranial wave facial, which started with an assessment of my skin (including a gentle reassurance that my pores, which I believed to be freakishly large, were in fact normal). From there, it was a gentle, almost tender series of steams, slathers and serums interrupted by the occasional pinch of extraction and scrub of exfoliation. From time to time during the 50-minute treatment, Christina cradled my head in her hands and gently kneaded my neck (craniosacral therapy is based on these kinds of manipulations). The result? I left with a glow and a notecard with a detailed daily skincare regimen I could follow to keep putting my best face forward.
On a recent visit, an aesthetician named Christina gave me something called a cranial wave facial, which started with an assessment of my skin (including a gentle reassurance that my pores, which I believed to be freakishly large, were in fact normal). From there, it was a gentle, almost tender series of steams, slathers and serums interrupted by the occasional pinch of extraction and scrub of exfoliation. From time to time during the 50-minute treatment, Christina cradled my head in her hands and gently kneaded my neck (craniosacral therapy is based on these kinds of manipulations). The result? I left with a glow and a notecard with a detailed daily skincare regimen I could follow to keep putting my best face forward.
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(Alon Goldsmith / For The Times)
Make an early morning pilgrimage to Venice Beach Skate Park
Venice Skate Park
Located right on the beach between the boardwalk and the sand (look for the cluster of graffiti-tagged palm trees), this 16,000-square-foot undulating concrete indentation in the ground is worth checking out even if you’re oblivious to the storied role that Venice (and neighboring Santa Monica) played in the history of skateboarding. A fully functioning skate park that opened in 2009, cost $2.4 million to build and was designed with ramps, stairs, rails and a bowl that pays homage to the empty swimming pools commandeered by early skate pioneers, it’s also hallowed ground and a touchstone for skate tourists from around the globe.
Most times of the day, you’ll find it as colorfully chaotic — if perhaps more gravity-defying — as the nearby boardwalk, filled with skaters of considerable skill flinging themselves skyward with abandon. But if you make the effort to come here very early in the morning (as I recently did on the advice of a colleague), it can be as serene as a Zen garden. Before 9 a.m. you’ll find few people, perhaps a city worker daubing graffiti from sidewalks and tree trunks with a paint brush, a single boarder dipping lazily into the bowl while two helmeted acolytes kneel next to their boards and look on with rapt attention. Soon they will deign to throw themselves skyward too, from this sacred skater spot on the sand. And, if you linger long enough, you’ll see it happen.
Most times of the day, you’ll find it as colorfully chaotic — if perhaps more gravity-defying — as the nearby boardwalk, filled with skaters of considerable skill flinging themselves skyward with abandon. But if you make the effort to come here very early in the morning (as I recently did on the advice of a colleague), it can be as serene as a Zen garden. Before 9 a.m. you’ll find few people, perhaps a city worker daubing graffiti from sidewalks and tree trunks with a paint brush, a single boarder dipping lazily into the bowl while two helmeted acolytes kneel next to their boards and look on with rapt attention. Soon they will deign to throw themselves skyward too, from this sacred skater spot on the sand. And, if you linger long enough, you’ll see it happen.
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(Alon Goldsmith / For The Times)
Duck into quintessential dive bar Hinano for a burger and a brew
Venice Burgers
Maybe there are better burgers in Venice than the self-proclaimed “world-famous cheeseburger” on the menu here (a strong argument could be made for the Win-Dow smashburger at American Beauty) and there might be divier dive bars (HMS Bounty, anyone?), but this beach-adjacent burger-slinging dive bar is bigger — nay, greater — than the sum of its parts. Open since 1962 and closed only two days a year (Thanksgiving and Christmas), this shack feels like home every time you scuff your flip-flops across the sawdust-covered floor, whether it’s a first visit or 101st.
You could eat your burger (which you definitely should order, even if it’s only to feed your curiosity about the world-famous thing) and sip your draft beer at one of the outside tables with a view of the Venice Pier not too far away. But that would deprive you of the frozen-in-time interior, where bar signs compete with surf stickers for attention, a Nicolas Cage movie blares from a bigscreen TV (Nicolas Cage should be the patron saint of dive bars, just sayin’), and the brightest light in the place is the buttery yellow glow of an old-school popcorn machine that beckons from the back corner. Are those sparkly red, white and blue streamers strung above the register left over from Memorial Day? Fourth of July? This year? This decade? Does it really matter? What matters is that this dive bar has been crusted like a barnacle on the hull of the city’s western edge for more than 60 years and feels like it could easily go another 60. The only concession to the changing times? Once famously cash-only, Hinano now accepts debit and credit cards.
You could eat your burger (which you definitely should order, even if it’s only to feed your curiosity about the world-famous thing) and sip your draft beer at one of the outside tables with a view of the Venice Pier not too far away. But that would deprive you of the frozen-in-time interior, where bar signs compete with surf stickers for attention, a Nicolas Cage movie blares from a bigscreen TV (Nicolas Cage should be the patron saint of dive bars, just sayin’), and the brightest light in the place is the buttery yellow glow of an old-school popcorn machine that beckons from the back corner. Are those sparkly red, white and blue streamers strung above the register left over from Memorial Day? Fourth of July? This year? This decade? Does it really matter? What matters is that this dive bar has been crusted like a barnacle on the hull of the city’s western edge for more than 60 years and feels like it could easily go another 60. The only concession to the changing times? Once famously cash-only, Hinano now accepts debit and credit cards.
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(Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)
See colorful history come alive at Venice Heritage Museum
Venice Museum
Will you know all you need to know about Venice after browsing the inaugural exhibition “This Is Some Place” at this museum space that opened earlier this year? Probably not. What you will have, though, is an appreciation of some of the forces that helped shape it. You’ll have context. And you’ll have a good deal of color. (Which somehow makes it feel right that the most popular gift shop item is “The Colorful History of Venice, California, Coloring Book”). Some of that color comes by what’s hanging on the walls: a 1959 Time magazine article comparing the lives of Venice residents to those living in Hutchinson, Kansas (“Squaresville USA vs. Beatsville”), ephemera (bumper stickers, a flag) from the Free Venice movement of the late 1960s and early ’70s. And you’ll find it in the photos and postcards (so many postcards) that both document and promote the young city to the world.
But you’ll get just as much — if not more — color by taking a seat in a tiny, darkened room off to one side and watching one of the looping interviews from the museum’s oral history project, which brings history alive with first-person accounts (65 to date) of living in the area. (Delores Deluce’s description of how the drag queen Divine ended up sharing her Venice pad is everything.) On your way out, consider throwing down $20 for one of those coloring books and see what color you can add. Admission is free, open Thursday to Sunday, 11 a.m. to 5 p.m.
But you’ll get just as much — if not more — color by taking a seat in a tiny, darkened room off to one side and watching one of the looping interviews from the museum’s oral history project, which brings history alive with first-person accounts (65 to date) of living in the area. (Delores Deluce’s description of how the drag queen Divine ended up sharing her Venice pad is everything.) On your way out, consider throwing down $20 for one of those coloring books and see what color you can add. Admission is free, open Thursday to Sunday, 11 a.m. to 5 p.m.
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(Townhouse)
Raise a glass to the end of Prohibition at Townhouse
Venice Speakeasy Bar
For most of us, Prohibition — those dark years from 1920 to 1933 when the U.S. banned the manufacture and sale of alcohol — is little more than an abstract concept, an entry in a history textbook and a cautionary tale (I’m looking at you, federal cannabis prohibition). Not at this dimly lit watering hole, which dates to 1915 and lays claim to being the oldest bar in Venice. Here, the ghost of the now-repealed 18th Amendment lurks in every corner. And for good reason; According to lore, what’s now the bar area was Cesar Menotti’s grocery store during those years, with stacks of produce cleverly disguising the trapdoor entrance to a subterranean speakeasy. That underground space now functions as a live music and comedy venue; the walls are covered with framed newspaper headlines of the day, Menotti’s name graces the coffee shop next door and the bar’s drink coasters make the all-caps demand SPEAK EASY TO ME.
Which brings us around to the cocktails; a mix of the familiar (Townhouse’s take on the old-fashioned, the margarita and the too-trendy-to-die espresso martini) and the adventurous (a tiki drink pairing rum with house-made tepache and a tropical take on a clarified milk punch, for starters) that are worth popping in for even without the history lesson. But hey, since you’re here, why not take a second to raise your glass and toast the end of failed federal policy ushered in with the 21st Amendment.
Which brings us around to the cocktails; a mix of the familiar (Townhouse’s take on the old-fashioned, the margarita and the too-trendy-to-die espresso martini) and the adventurous (a tiki drink pairing rum with house-made tepache and a tropical take on a clarified milk punch, for starters) that are worth popping in for even without the history lesson. But hey, since you’re here, why not take a second to raise your glass and toast the end of failed federal policy ushered in with the 21st Amendment.
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(Alon Goldsmith / For The Times)
Take a selfie — safely — in front of the Venice sign
Venice Historical Landmark
Strung across Windward Avenue at Pacific Avenue, the letters spelling out Venice in all-caps letters is an advertisement turned landmark turned Instagram selfie backdrop not unlike the Hollywood sign 13 miles away. The original was installed by Abbot Kinney on July 4, 1905, to promote his real estate development. This replica, each aluminum letter 33.25 inches tall and studded with 87 LED bulbs, took its place of honor in 2007.
Registered as a federal trademark by the Venice Chamber of Commerce, which also oversees its upkeep, those six lighted letters also serve as a sort of heartbeat of the neighborhood, with bulb colors changing throughout the year to mark holidays (red, white and blue for Fourth of July, green for St. Patrick’s Day) and special occasions (pink for breast cancer awareness, blue to honor first responders’ efforts during the COVID shutdown), with a holiday sign lighting taking place each first Saturday of December.
While the organization jealously guards professional use of sign imagery (licensing it for events like a Tommy Hilfiger fashion show or the Rams’ return to L.A.), snapping away for your own enjoyment is highly encouraged — as long as you do it safely, says Venice Chamber of Commerce chief executive officer Donna Lasman.
“That intersection has a diagonal pedestrian crossing,” Lasman said, “so if you observe the [crossing] lights, you’ll have about 15 to 30 seconds to get the perfect photo.”
Registered as a federal trademark by the Venice Chamber of Commerce, which also oversees its upkeep, those six lighted letters also serve as a sort of heartbeat of the neighborhood, with bulb colors changing throughout the year to mark holidays (red, white and blue for Fourth of July, green for St. Patrick’s Day) and special occasions (pink for breast cancer awareness, blue to honor first responders’ efforts during the COVID shutdown), with a holiday sign lighting taking place each first Saturday of December.
While the organization jealously guards professional use of sign imagery (licensing it for events like a Tommy Hilfiger fashion show or the Rams’ return to L.A.), snapping away for your own enjoyment is highly encouraged — as long as you do it safely, says Venice Chamber of Commerce chief executive officer Donna Lasman.
“That intersection has a diagonal pedestrian crossing,” Lasman said, “so if you observe the [crossing] lights, you’ll have about 15 to 30 seconds to get the perfect photo.”
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(Alon Goldsmith / For The Times)
Embark on the right-sized stroll along the historic Venice Canals
Venice Historical Landmark
In addition to being one of the most visually distinct parts of the cityscape, the remaining canals (many of the original ones have been paved over) and the walkways that line them provide a serene counterpoint to the hustle and bustle of the nearby boardwalk. There are just six — two that run roughly north to south (Grand Canal and Eastern Canal) and four that run roughly east to west (Carroll, Linnie, Howland and Sherman canals) and they’re arranged in a rough grid shape that allows you to right-size a leisurely stroll to fit your schedule.
There are plenty of places to begin your walking adventure of indeterminate length, but I’ve always had good luck finding street parking on the stretch of West Washington Boulevard just beyond the Baja Cantina where it crosses the Grand Canal. If you go this route, look for the Venice Canals walkway sign pointing the way at the northwest corner of Strongs Drive and West Washington Boulevard. Enter here and it’s a short 0.16-mile, four-minute meander along a sidewalk-style path to the first quaint arched bridge, after which you can either cross over and double back to where you started or continue exploring, with a new opportunity arising at each canal juncture and bridge. Whatever you decide, your route will take you past the backyards of the National Historic District’s cottages and duplexes on one side and the man-made canals on the other. Depending on the time of year and time of day (the water level can vary drastically based on the use of tide gates) you’ll spot flocks of ducklings and the occasional snowy egret doing their thing amid an assortment of moored kayaks, canoes and floating docks.
There are plenty of places to begin your walking adventure of indeterminate length, but I’ve always had good luck finding street parking on the stretch of West Washington Boulevard just beyond the Baja Cantina where it crosses the Grand Canal. If you go this route, look for the Venice Canals walkway sign pointing the way at the northwest corner of Strongs Drive and West Washington Boulevard. Enter here and it’s a short 0.16-mile, four-minute meander along a sidewalk-style path to the first quaint arched bridge, after which you can either cross over and double back to where you started or continue exploring, with a new opportunity arising at each canal juncture and bridge. Whatever you decide, your route will take you past the backyards of the National Historic District’s cottages and duplexes on one side and the man-made canals on the other. Depending on the time of year and time of day (the water level can vary drastically based on the use of tide gates) you’ll spot flocks of ducklings and the occasional snowy egret doing their thing amid an assortment of moored kayaks, canoes and floating docks.
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(Mariah Tauger / Los Angeles Times)
Find top-notch eats steps off the sand at Teddy's Red Tacos
Venice Mexican
While there are plenty of places to grab a quick bite just steps off the sand, the sad truth is many of them — especially in the most tourist-heavy stretch — can be horribly hit-or-miss. That’s why this spot (which recently earned a spot on The Times’ 101 best tacos list) needs to be on your radar. Specializing in Tijuana-style beef birria de res, its cramped interior is barely big enough for two or three people to queue up at a time and place their order.
If you’re the last one in that tiny queue you might feel unlucky. You are not. That’s partly because the line can be many times as long. But mostly it’s because it’s from this vantage point that you can see into the kitchen, with its sizzling grill and bubbling cauldrons of consomé (a dark red broth of tomatoes, roasted chiles, dried herbs and chuck steak) that seems to be splashed across the entire menu. Tortillas are dunked in it and grilled to a crisp to make tacos, mulitas, tostadas and quesadillas, and it’s ladled into cups to go. Order the deluxe plate ($16.99) and you’ll get all of that. When your order is ready, take your red plastic tray to a table outside and throw sharp elbows until you’ve had your fill. And if, at the end of this bliss, you find your fingers redolent of chiles and beef and your lips streaked with the crimson evidence of your conquest, worry not. The finger bowl of the Pacific Ocean awaits.
If you’re the last one in that tiny queue you might feel unlucky. You are not. That’s partly because the line can be many times as long. But mostly it’s because it’s from this vantage point that you can see into the kitchen, with its sizzling grill and bubbling cauldrons of consomé (a dark red broth of tomatoes, roasted chiles, dried herbs and chuck steak) that seems to be splashed across the entire menu. Tortillas are dunked in it and grilled to a crisp to make tacos, mulitas, tostadas and quesadillas, and it’s ladled into cups to go. Order the deluxe plate ($16.99) and you’ll get all of that. When your order is ready, take your red plastic tray to a table outside and throw sharp elbows until you’ve had your fill. And if, at the end of this bliss, you find your fingers redolent of chiles and beef and your lips streaked with the crimson evidence of your conquest, worry not. The finger bowl of the Pacific Ocean awaits.
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(Alon Goldsmith / For The Times)
Stock up on gourmet groceries at Canal Market
Venice Grocery Store
This neighborhood market with a bold-as-gift-wrap paint job manages to be the perfect blend of old-school and upscale. There’s an enameled bathtub of flowers for sale near the front door (there’s a florist’s studio off the back patio), and the rough-hewn wooden shelves are stocked with a mix of sundries (sunscreen, surf wax, dog treats, high-end groceries (Sqirl preserves, Momofuku ramen noodles, Chantelle’s granola, two kinds of nut butters) and clutch charcuterie-board finds (a deli case full of soft cheeses, a basket of salamis wrapped in brown paper). Where this place really punches above it weight class though, is in the beverage department — both alcoholic and caffeinated
In the first category, a range of eclectic spirits (Wilder gin, Nosotoros tequila, Humboldt Distillery vodka) on shelves, and lesser-known wines (Lo-Fi Cabernet Franc, Fallen Grape’s chilled red, Two Shepherds’ Trousseau Gri) in refrigerated cases line most one wall. In the second category a robust selection of locally-skewing coffee and tea drinks available over the coffee bar counter. The house pour is Amigo Coffee Roasters’ Wake N Bake, which the barista/register jockey can turn into all manner of coffee drink hot (including seasonal rose or lavender lattes) or cold (given a flush of nitrogen for mellowness). There’s also bagged coffee from Lip Service, Joshua Tree Coffee and Dune Coffee Roasters available as well as a selection of boxed teas from L.A.-based Flowerhead Tea.
In the first category, a range of eclectic spirits (Wilder gin, Nosotoros tequila, Humboldt Distillery vodka) on shelves, and lesser-known wines (Lo-Fi Cabernet Franc, Fallen Grape’s chilled red, Two Shepherds’ Trousseau Gri) in refrigerated cases line most one wall. In the second category a robust selection of locally-skewing coffee and tea drinks available over the coffee bar counter. The house pour is Amigo Coffee Roasters’ Wake N Bake, which the barista/register jockey can turn into all manner of coffee drink hot (including seasonal rose or lavender lattes) or cold (given a flush of nitrogen for mellowness). There’s also bagged coffee from Lip Service, Joshua Tree Coffee and Dune Coffee Roasters available as well as a selection of boxed teas from L.A.-based Flowerhead Tea.
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(Ashley Randall)
Grab rustic beach eats at Gjusta
Venice American cuisine Bakery
This deli and bakery, located across the street from a sprawling Gold’s Gym (make of that what you will), leans into the rustic vibe hard. Its roomy unfinished wood interior feels big enough to park a Cessna, and just past the stacks of 50-pound flour bags are shelves stacked with seeded rye loaves the size of Roombas and gleaming glass cases crammed with all manner of comestible (salami and fennel flatbreads, bagels, pistachio-dusted baklava croissants). The best part is the food here is just as rustic as the decor, so the two-hander sandwich you order online via Door Dash for pickup at 10 a.m. — under no circumstances should you make the rookie move of waiting in the line that moves slower than passport control — to haul beachward will feel freshly made long past sunset even without the benefit of climate control. If you’re a first-timer overwhelmed by the options (hey, it happens), ease in by choosing the No. 4 (salami, little gem lettuce, avocado and red onion on sourdough with a slather of Dijon mustard) or the No. 5 (turkey, arugula, fontina, pickled red onion and grainy mustard on olive sourdough).
Even though you’re beaching it, consider throwing in a couple of those giant loaves of bread for the home larder, a tub of green cheese pesto and a spiced mocha whose dusting of ghost pepper salt will have your tastebuds tingling while you work your way across town.
Even though you’re beaching it, consider throwing in a couple of those giant loaves of bread for the home larder, a tub of green cheese pesto and a spiced mocha whose dusting of ghost pepper salt will have your tastebuds tingling while you work your way across town.
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(Alon Goldsmith / For The Times)
Grab a gift for them — and a coffee drink for you — at Flowerboy Project
Venice Coffee
This coffee and gift shop appears like an oasis on busy Lincoln Boulevard, with a smattering of sidewalk tables and a spacious interior. Run by head gardener and creative director Sean Knibb, along with flower and visual director Stella Shirinda, the neighborhood bodega invites customers to choose their own adventure with a selection of fresh and dried flowers that can be bundled into a bouquet or purchased as single stems; curated items like journals, candles and even a stylish Flowerboy apparel line; and a coffee shop that’s housed in the far corner of the space, with a simple menu of coffeehouse staples, plus a few original drinks like the Dirty Rose Girl (rose latte) and Lavender Boy (lavender latte).
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(Alon Goldsmith / For The Times)
Take your kids on a magical, people-powered history lesson at the Venice Flying Carousel
Venice Family Ride
Artist Robin Murez’s whimsical, human-powered merry-go-round is interactive public art at its finest, serving up a children’s amusement-park attraction with a side of Venice history that parents will appreciate. Offering free rides to the little ones for just an hour each Saturday and Sunday (currently 11 a.m. to noon) from a temporary home along Linnie Canal, it can accommodate up to 15 kids, who choose from a handful of hanging swings, a chariot or one of eight animals, each lovingly hand-carved out of basswood by Murez. Among them are Robbie, an ostrich with a heart of gold (a nod to the ostrich farms of Abbot Kinney’s day), Arielle, a cape-wearing lioness (an homage to the winged-lion symbol of Italy’s Venetian Republic) and Paa’ar, a Tongva turtle whose presence references the original Indigenous inhabitants of the area. The mechanics of the machine itself, Murez says, reference the rides made by the Dentzel Carousel Company that could be found in Venice in the early 1900s.
Murez’s kinetic history lesson, which eventually will have a permanent home in Venice’s Centennial Park (she’s currently gathering petition signatures to speed up the stalled process), delights approximately 30 kids (120 pounds max) each hour-long session. They’re buckled onto Orson the duck, Joelle L’Escargot (a crown-wearing snail), Ribbon the unicorn or one of their carved companions for a brief ride propelled by the artist (or a helper) who stands in the center energetically cranking what looks like a ship’s wheel. “I’ve learned carousel etiquette,” Murez said about how long each ride lasts. “It goes on for the length of one song, so that’s about two minutes. I play a lot of Frank Sinatra, I play Brazilian jazz. I take requests.” My request, no doubt shared by the local parents who bring their children two or three times a month to squeal with delight as they soar around the circle: Give the magical menagerie its forever home as soon as possible. In addition to the scheduled hour each weekend day, Murez’s magical carousel is open by appointment for special events like birthday parties.
Murez’s kinetic history lesson, which eventually will have a permanent home in Venice’s Centennial Park (she’s currently gathering petition signatures to speed up the stalled process), delights approximately 30 kids (120 pounds max) each hour-long session. They’re buckled onto Orson the duck, Joelle L’Escargot (a crown-wearing snail), Ribbon the unicorn or one of their carved companions for a brief ride propelled by the artist (or a helper) who stands in the center energetically cranking what looks like a ship’s wheel. “I’ve learned carousel etiquette,” Murez said about how long each ride lasts. “It goes on for the length of one song, so that’s about two minutes. I play a lot of Frank Sinatra, I play Brazilian jazz. I take requests.” My request, no doubt shared by the local parents who bring their children two or three times a month to squeal with delight as they soar around the circle: Give the magical menagerie its forever home as soon as possible. In addition to the scheduled hour each weekend day, Murez’s magical carousel is open by appointment for special events like birthday parties.
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(Alon Goldsmith / For The Times)
Brunch under a lucky bean tree at Rose Venice
Venice New American
Skip the cavernous, 8,000-square-foot interior of this former gas company dispatch office and ask for a table on the patio (which is known in-house as the beer garden) somewhere close to — if not beneath — the leafy green canopy of the lucky bean tree. Here, under the spreading, lantern-hung branches, you can contemplate the rose-pink menu before you like a philosopher trying to divine the true meaning of brunch. Does the one true path run through the shakshouka, the chilaquiles or something called the Venice breakfast (a tidy little dish of scrambled eggs, maple turkey sausage, Tuscan kale, avocado and Japanese sweet potatoes)? Are the buttermilk biscuits (served with Vermont creamery butter and seasonal jam) the key to happiness? Or will you find your nirvana in your first sip of a vibrant red cocktail called the Carta Roja (a tequila drink made with strawberry consomme, Aperol, vanilla and lime)?
Don’t worry if you haven’t found the meaning of brunch by the time you’re finished. This restaurant, and the tree beneath whose branches you contemplate, will be here when you come back to try again, just as it has since 1979. Maybe next time you’ll venture inside and explore the full-service espresso bar, the 200-seat dining room or the market. Or maybe you’ll return to your happy place beneath the lucky bean tree and venture deeper into that rose-pink menu. The answer is in there somewhere.
Don’t worry if you haven’t found the meaning of brunch by the time you’re finished. This restaurant, and the tree beneath whose branches you contemplate, will be here when you come back to try again, just as it has since 1979. Maybe next time you’ll venture inside and explore the full-service espresso bar, the 200-seat dining room or the market. Or maybe you’ll return to your happy place beneath the lucky bean tree and venture deeper into that rose-pink menu. The answer is in there somewhere.
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(Alon Goldsmith / For The Times)
Discover your next unexpected beach read at Small World Books
Venice Book Store
Wedged between a sidewalk cafe and a cheesy souvenir shop right on the bustling boardwalk, the single doorway leading into this indie bookstore might be easy to overlook (even with a massive red-and-white-striped awning and sidewalk sandwich board pointing the way), but once you’ve spent even a few minutes poking around the 2,000-square-foot interior, you’ll find it impossible to forget. Not just for the eclectic assortment of zines (titles include “Awesome Ovaries” and “Smash the Skatriarchy”) near the door, or the particularly robust offerings of philosophy and poetry, but for the curated collections that dot tabletops and end caps that encourage the lost art of browsing. There’s a collection of Los Angeles stories over here (“Interior Chinatown” cheek by jowl with “Inherent Vice” and “Less Than Zero”), comedy over there (George Carlin’s “Last Words,” Judd Apatow’s “Sick in the Head” and David Sedaris’ “Let’s Explore Diabetes With Owls,” to name just three) and a curated collection of feline-related literature near the register (among them: a personality quiz book titled “Is Your Cat a Psychopath?”).
Speaking of cats, the bookstore has two in-house fursters — Franny and Malcolm — whom you’re likely to find prowling the aisles as you browse. What could possibly be better than a well-curated beachside bookstore that comes with its own cats? One that comes with all that and a free half-hour of validated weekday parking (at the corner of Market and Speedway) in a part of town where such things are all but nonexistent.
Speaking of cats, the bookstore has two in-house fursters — Franny and Malcolm — whom you’re likely to find prowling the aisles as you browse. What could possibly be better than a well-curated beachside bookstore that comes with its own cats? One that comes with all that and a free half-hour of validated weekday parking (at the corner of Market and Speedway) in a part of town where such things are all but nonexistent.
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(Alon Goldsmith / For The Times)
Celebrate with the usual suspects at Casablanca
Venice Mexican
As head-scratchingly perplexing as it is delightful, this old-school Mexican eatery doubles as a shrine to the 1943 film “Casablanca,” with nods to the movie covering nearly every square inch of the dimly lit interior, from movie posters and headshots on the walls to postage-stamp-sized movie stills on the menu. You can spend an entire dinner soaking in the scene and still not process it all. (The bathrooms labeled Humphrey Bogart and Ingmar Bergman, for example, and what’s with the stained-glass window of a fez-wearing owl?)
The menu itself is a solid selection of Mexican dishes (burritos, tacos, quesadillas) with a handful of house specialties riffing on the Calamari steak (sautéed in butter and white wine and offered with a range of toppings, the most decadent of which is chopped crab and shrimp in a garlic sauce). Two things of particular note here. First are the fluffy tortillas — some as large as hubcaps — that are handmade at a station in the center of the dining room before being whisked to your table. Second is the deep bench of tequilas (250 options, according to the restaurant’s website) stocking the shelves of the cavern-like Rick’s Tequileria just inside the front door. If you order a margarita, ask for it to be made tableside; this results in a bar cart dubbed the Tequila Express to be rolled up and your drink prepared — with great flourish — before your eyes. (Take that, tableside Caesar!)
Although perfectly suitable for an intimate Rick-and-Ilsa dinner, the kitsch combined with the festive atmosphere makes it a good place for larger groups too; on a recent Saturday night, I counted four boisterous multigenerational tables of eight or more. So, to paraphrase Captain Renault’s famous line, next time you’re looking for someplace to celebrate a special occasion, round up the usual suspects and make your way here.
The menu itself is a solid selection of Mexican dishes (burritos, tacos, quesadillas) with a handful of house specialties riffing on the Calamari steak (sautéed in butter and white wine and offered with a range of toppings, the most decadent of which is chopped crab and shrimp in a garlic sauce). Two things of particular note here. First are the fluffy tortillas — some as large as hubcaps — that are handmade at a station in the center of the dining room before being whisked to your table. Second is the deep bench of tequilas (250 options, according to the restaurant’s website) stocking the shelves of the cavern-like Rick’s Tequileria just inside the front door. If you order a margarita, ask for it to be made tableside; this results in a bar cart dubbed the Tequila Express to be rolled up and your drink prepared — with great flourish — before your eyes. (Take that, tableside Caesar!)
Although perfectly suitable for an intimate Rick-and-Ilsa dinner, the kitsch combined with the festive atmosphere makes it a good place for larger groups too; on a recent Saturday night, I counted four boisterous multigenerational tables of eight or more. So, to paraphrase Captain Renault’s famous line, next time you’re looking for someplace to celebrate a special occasion, round up the usual suspects and make your way here.
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(Jason Armond / Los Angeles Times)
Seek out a pricy potent potable at Lincoln Fine Wines
Venice Wine
There’s a sign hanging in my family’s little country store in Vermont that reads: “If we don’t have it, you don’t need it.” There’s no sign like that hanging here, but there should be. Yes, you can find fine wine here (it’s in the name, after all), most of it arranged by region, with one wall dedicated to natural wines and a temperature-controlled wine cave in the back corner where the priciest bottles bide their time (a $350 Chianti Classico and an $800 Barolo were among the offerings on a recent visit). But there’s also an impressive selection of high-end hooch to be had — the kind of stuff in overly designed bottles that usually occupy the highest of top shelves: colorfully beaded bottles of Dos Armadillos tequila ($900), a limited-edition Hennessy cognac with a fashion-designer carafe ($320) and a bottle of WhistlePig rye with the eye-popping price tag of $2,000. (Well, technically $1,999.99 but who’s counting pennies at this point?) There’s also a selection of fancy Riedel decanters and glassware too.
Besides the one-of-everything inventory, there’s something else — a tiny little detail that you may not even notice — that reminds me of a bygone era of retail: Every single bottle in the joint sports either a business-card-size hangtag bearing a handwritten description and price, or the price written neatly across the front in white grease pencil. Unless you’re a former stockboy, that kind of flourish probably won’t mean much, but to me it makes the whole wine-buying experience feel even more personal and purposeful. And that’s not the vibe I’m used to getting in a wine shop or liquor store.
Besides the one-of-everything inventory, there’s something else — a tiny little detail that you may not even notice — that reminds me of a bygone era of retail: Every single bottle in the joint sports either a business-card-size hangtag bearing a handwritten description and price, or the price written neatly across the front in white grease pencil. Unless you’re a former stockboy, that kind of flourish probably won’t mean much, but to me it makes the whole wine-buying experience feel even more personal and purposeful. And that’s not the vibe I’m used to getting in a wine shop or liquor store.
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(Alon Goldsmith / For The Times)
Shop for weed in high style at Green Goddess Collective
Venice Dispensary
There are a couple of things that make this dispensary stand out. First is its location: At less than 1,600 feet from the water’s edge (two blocks, give or take), it’s the closest place to the beach here to legally score herb. (Ignore those boardwalk sandwich boards telling you different.) Second is its longevity: Originally opened as a Highland Park collective in 2006 (in the medical marijuana days, long before 2018’s recreational sales began) before moving to Venice in 2009, co-founded by Nathan Holtz-Poole and Daniel Stein, it’s one of the oldest (Holtz-Poole claims it’s the oldest) continually operating legal cannabis retail shops in the country. The result is a bustling dispensary that’s popular with both canna-curious tourists and pot-puffing locals alike.
On top of that, it’s simply a beautiful space outside and in; one exterior wall is covered by an immense Hans Valør mural of a flowing-haired woman holding a seedling in her cupped hands (I’m gonna take a wild guess that’s the goddess). The interior vibe is more Art Deco apothecary than 21st century dispensary thanks to architectural elements like parquet floors and ornate light fixtures including a ballroom-worthy chandelier hanging over a curved glass case full of flower jars and tubes of prerolled joints (the latter of which are particularly popular here, a budtender told me recently, on account of the brisk tourist business). As if things couldn’t feel any more classy, there’s also free 20-minute validated parking across the street for dispensary customers who’ve made a purchase.
On top of that, it’s simply a beautiful space outside and in; one exterior wall is covered by an immense Hans Valør mural of a flowing-haired woman holding a seedling in her cupped hands (I’m gonna take a wild guess that’s the goddess). The interior vibe is more Art Deco apothecary than 21st century dispensary thanks to architectural elements like parquet floors and ornate light fixtures including a ballroom-worthy chandelier hanging over a curved glass case full of flower jars and tubes of prerolled joints (the latter of which are particularly popular here, a budtender told me recently, on account of the brisk tourist business). As if things couldn’t feel any more classy, there’s also free 20-minute validated parking across the street for dispensary customers who’ve made a purchase.
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(Alon Goldsmith / For The Times)
Get a jump on your weekend menu planning at the Venice Farmers Market
Venice Farmers Market
Are all SoCal farmers markets alike? Yes and no. Vendor-wise, you’ll find the same mix here as you might at other tented once-a-week markets, selling fistfuls of festive flowers from Carpenteria, berries from Bakersfield, sacks of citrus from San Diego County, tables piled with organic melons, coolers full of fresh fish. What makes this one particularly clutch, though (besides the black camper van dispensing Menotti’s coffee drinks to the bleary-eyed), is that it takes place on Friday mornings from 7 to 11 a.m., a fact that makes it the perfect place to start sourcing your weekend meals. Drop in, walk the spacious aisles, maybe bag a branzino here, a basket of cherry tomatoes there and a couple of lemons on your way back to the car. “Top Chef,” here you come.
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(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)
Roll bright with Venice Electric Light Parade
Venice Parade
Arguably one of L.A.’s least known and most beloved traditions, the Venice Electric Light Parade is a weekly two-hour bicycle ride that takes you along the Venice boardwalk to the Santa Monica Pier and then into Venice proper along city streets with a pack of 200 to 300 other wheeled riders, all led by event organizer Marcus Gladney, a.k.a. the Captain, who began the tradition back in 2015. You can try to outfit your own bike with lights or just get to the Venice Boardwalk early and put down $40 with Sebastian “The Light Man” Butler to get your bike wired with festive lights. You don’t have to have lights on your bike to ride; in fact, you don’t even have to have a bike — some people use roller blades, skateboards or scooters — but if you don’t want to put lights on your bike you can wear them on your body or around your head.
To join in the festivities, which take place every Sunday (unless it’s raining), all you need to do is join the folks who begin to gather at Windward Plaza an hour before sunset and start rolling at dusk. It’s free to participate — unless you want to rent a prelighted bicycle for $99, a fee that includes a special Venice Electric Light Bike Parade hoodie or shirt.
To join in the festivities, which take place every Sunday (unless it’s raining), all you need to do is join the folks who begin to gather at Windward Plaza an hour before sunset and start rolling at dusk. It’s free to participate — unless you want to rent a prelighted bicycle for $99, a fee that includes a special Venice Electric Light Bike Parade hoodie or shirt.
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(Mariah Tauger / Los Angeles Times)
Behold the perfect plate of pasta at Felix
Venice Italian
That the name Felix translates from Latin to mean “happy” or “lucky” is wholly appropriate for this trattoria that has anchored the north end of Abbot Kinney since it was opened by Janet Zuccarini and chef Evan Funke in 2017. Lucky both for Funke, who has gone on to become one of the buzziest chefs around Hollywood’s Mother Wolf restaurant (which now has an outpost at the Fountainbleu in Las Vegas), and for the pastaphile who manages to land a reservation here. (There’s a seven-day reservation window that opens online each midnight; walk-ins are accepted for bar dining only.)
And, should you succeed, like I did on a summer Saturday evening after working OpenTable like Ticketmaster for a Rolling Stones show (outdoor patio, 6:30 p.m.), you will leave very happy. Funke’s strong suit is pasta (the dining room has a view of the glass-walled, temperature-controlled space where the dough is rolled out and hand-cut into shapes) and you’d be doing yourself — and all the effort that went into getting here — a disservice if you didn’t indulge. This high-profile pastaiolo’s preference is to cook the noodles just to an ultrafirm texture (which Jonathan Gold described in his review of the restaurant “as an extreme interpretation of what Italians call ‘al dente,’”) and sauce the dishes lightly (“dress it, don’t drown it” was one of the pasta-making rules Funke shared with Bon Appetit magazine back in 2020). That makes for a practically perfect pappardelle, strips of pasta as wide as packing tape cradling bits of salsiccia and porcini mushrooms and dusted with Parmigiano Reggiano, and a seriously superior spaghettoni (a wider diameter spaghetti) with chopped herbs and breadcrumbs with a salty scattering of anchovies across the top. (Pro tip: On the front end, don’t fill up on the sfincione bread — as good as it looks — and consider starting instead with a plate of fried squash blossoms stuffed with ricotta. They’re as delicious as they are delicate.) Happy and lucky indeed.
And, should you succeed, like I did on a summer Saturday evening after working OpenTable like Ticketmaster for a Rolling Stones show (outdoor patio, 6:30 p.m.), you will leave very happy. Funke’s strong suit is pasta (the dining room has a view of the glass-walled, temperature-controlled space where the dough is rolled out and hand-cut into shapes) and you’d be doing yourself — and all the effort that went into getting here — a disservice if you didn’t indulge. This high-profile pastaiolo’s preference is to cook the noodles just to an ultrafirm texture (which Jonathan Gold described in his review of the restaurant “as an extreme interpretation of what Italians call ‘al dente,’”) and sauce the dishes lightly (“dress it, don’t drown it” was one of the pasta-making rules Funke shared with Bon Appetit magazine back in 2020). That makes for a practically perfect pappardelle, strips of pasta as wide as packing tape cradling bits of salsiccia and porcini mushrooms and dusted with Parmigiano Reggiano, and a seriously superior spaghettoni (a wider diameter spaghetti) with chopped herbs and breadcrumbs with a salty scattering of anchovies across the top. (Pro tip: On the front end, don’t fill up on the sfincione bread — as good as it looks — and consider starting instead with a plate of fried squash blossoms stuffed with ricotta. They’re as delicious as they are delicate.) Happy and lucky indeed.
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