The restaurant spreads before you, six steps below ground: sawdust floors, lines of people, painted menus and neon beer signs on the walls. The lines--at peak hours there are 10 of them, each up to 20 people long--weave between the tables where scores of others are eating, oblivious to the crush. Pick a line and wait your turn. When you reach the counter, you don't need to consult the menu on the wall, of course. You've been here before. You make it short and snappy--"Beef, double dip. Coleslaw, blueberry pie, coffee." This is Philippe the Original, an L.A. institution that...