Through the bar's entrance, past the booth for 35, and through the smoker-friendly courtyard are the large doors into a stately dining room, converted from the Wilshire Royale Hotel's former ballroom.

Columns covered in white ceramic tile, arched dark-red ceilings and something about a $5,000 toilet: Wait, where are we again? Royale is one of those you'd-never-know-it's-there places that has an inherent charm in its sort of stuffy unpretentiousness. On our unplanned visit, we were momentarily embarrassed by our not-so-formal outfits that somehow seemed magnified by those high, high ceilings. But once we ordered a stiff gin drink and saw the $17 burger (with angus beef, short rib, black truffle cheese and pommes frites), we realized our outfits were just fine. We can recommend the butter lettuce salad with lolla rosa, buttermilk blue cheese, pistachios and sweet sherry; the salt-and-pepper shrimp with hot peppers, wild garlic, wilted endive and lemon thyme; and the turbot (a mild flatfish similar to Dover sole) with fingerling potatoes, bacon confit and caramelized onions. That burger, big enough for two meals, isn't bad, though ours was awfully underdone—but brioche French toast on the dessert menu is a fine idea. Oh, and the toilet? We'll leave that for you to find out on your own. —Lonny Pugh