Think ‘80s noir like Brian DePalma used to make and you’ll have a pretty good idea of what’s happening on the rooftop of downtown’s super-sleek Standard Hotel. Fake green turf, hedges sliced to resemble dinosaurs, mushroom-shaped red pods with waterbeds inside, a fireplace, low-slung plastic lounge furniture and a long, shallow rectangular pool in full view of the busy hive of office windows that surround the building are just a few of the reasons that this place has become the stuff of L.A-hipster legend (featured on “Entourage” and in the film “Kiss, Kiss, Bang, Bang,” among others). It’s not exactly a restaurant, but you can order enough bar food to make a meal. Garlic fries, mini Kobe burgers, hummus with warm pita and quesadillas are all delectable and moderately priced.

See and be seen at the Ivy in Beverly Hills. (Actually, just see; unless you’re a star, no one there wants to look at you.) This is where you sit back and soak up what everyone else in the country thinks LA is all about. The cluttered shabby chic interior (with its somewhat un-ironic proliferation of American flags) is the perfect frame for the pricey menu of upscale, down home comfort foods (including corn chowder, crab cakes and grilled vegetable salads)--good enough to almost distract you from the action on the patio. (Tip: David Hasselhoff always sits by the too-sweet white picket fence, the better to be photographed by the paparazzi parked across the street.)

It’s all about phenomenal views of the Pacific at this Malibu standby, occupying a nook of cliff-side perfection in a rugged hillside by the sea. The restaurant is really just a giant outdoor patio where fire pits, sparkling mini-waterfalls and electric-green palm fronds keep dinners too scenery-stunned to notice that the food is, well, not so great. But if you choose carefully (the prosciutto-wrapped salmon and the curry coconut shrimp are good bets) you’ll have a fine time. As the sun sinks into the Pacific, you’d be hard-pressed to care about anything else.

Uber-hip, ironical Los Feliz doesn’t get more Los Feliz than at this mid-century mock-up of a rollicking post-war European lounge. The secluded dining room (featured most famously in the film “Swingers”) sprouts slender, white pillars, dark, pink wallpaper, oval, white leather booths and spiraling gold Venetian chandeliers. No doubt about it: this is dry martini land. Add a tender $16 filet mignon or a $17 chicken cordon bleu, then amble into the lounge where surgically-augmented crooners Marty and Elayne will wow you with their truly weird and endearingly earnest brand of cover-song entertainment.

Welcome to au jus heaven, where you can still get a cup of joe for 6 cents—the price of coffee back in this joint’s opening year, 1908, when downtown L.A. was nothing but a rough and raw frontier town. Buxom career waitresses in starched tan dresses and tiny paper crowns deftly serve winding lines of salivating patrons from behind a long refrigerated counter displaying everything from pickled pig’s feet to tangy coleslaw to tapioca pudding. Long, wooden family-style tables, sawdust strewn across the already grimy floor, out-of-this-world pots of hot mustard and melt-in-your mouth French dips seal the deal with a juicy kiss.

The Sunset Strip is no longer just for hard rockers, frat boys and reality show contestants: the Tower Bar and restaurant in the Art Deco Sunset Tower Hotel has restored its Golden-era integrity. Oak paneling, dusky lighting, cozy, tucked-away booths, a tinkling piano and an old-school maitre d’ named Dimitri make throwing down several hundred dollars on roasted lamb T-bone with minted English peas, white truffles and a bottle of ancient red wine a no-brainer. Oh yes, and you might see Sean Penn or Michael Douglas bro-ing down at the bar (housed in Bugsy Siegel’s former apartment).

Roll up to Canter’s at 3 in the morning on a Saturday to see it at its most debauched and at noon on a Sunday to see it at its finest. Such is the circadian cycle of life in a legendary 24-hour Jewish deli in the Fairfax district. The place is sprawling, with several giant dining rooms (one with a backlit ceiling depicting a mosaic of fall foliage) and a tiny, dark bar called the Kibitz Room. Open since 1931, the deli claims to have sold over 9 million pounds of corned beef and 20 million bagels. Their delicately salted matzo ball soup is the stuff sweet dreams are made of.

Just south of Santa Monica Blvd. in Hollywood, Maria’s looks downright shabby from the outside. Inside (where you’ll rarely find another diner) its like you’ve stumbled into Mexico-gone-to-Mars. Each booth is cobbled together from spare bits of wood and topped with corrugated tin, and tiny lights hover over the dark room like a cosmos. Be sure to order the thick, rich, exquisitely piquant mole—it can compete with the best in town--and the fresh-made salsa, which packs an enduring wallop.