In Los Angeles, November is typically a time for buzz about prestige films. But this past fall, the most talked-about ticket in town was actually the pastrami reuben at Phil Rosenthal’s new diner, Max & Helen’s, named after his late parents.
The Television Academy recently spoke with the former sitcom showrunner and current star of Netflix’s food-filled travelogue, Somebody Feed Phil, about the newest credit on his resume: restaurateur.
Television Academy: How did you get the idea for Max and Helen’s?
Phil Rosenthal: I shot an episode of Somebody Feed Phil about five years ago; I went to a diner in Biddeford, Maine, called the Palace Diner. It was a tiny place, only 15 seats in an old railroad dining car. But, it was the best diner food I ever had. It turns out it's because a chef from Gramercy Tavern had bought the place and left the menu exactly as it was 100 years ago — waffles, pancakes, sandwiches, burgers — and [they] had just elevated every single item by using his talent and the best possible ingredients. These were just incredible versions of the food that we love. Out of everywhere I went that year, and I went around the world, that was the meal that stuck out to me.
So this old-fashioned American diner beat out all the exotic fare you could find around the world?
Exactly, because it's the food we love from childhood. That's why they call it comfort food. It's like that moment in Ratatouille, when the critic eats the ratatouille at the end, and zooms back to childhood. Those feelings mean more to you than anything else.
I came home, and talked with Nancy Silverton — a chef who has been a friend for thirty years. We both live in the Larchmont neighborhood of LA. I told her this story about the diner, and asked if she would open a place like that with me. She instantly said "yes." Then, we had to wait a couple of years for restaurant to open up on the main street in our neighborhood, because you can only go into an existing restaurant space. It took a couple of years of dealing with the city to open, so it was actually a struggle. Now, it's kind of a paradise — I just love it. I think I've built my retirement home. You can find me there in a few years, just sitting in the back: "How's your soup, darling? Very nice."
Were your parents, Max and Helen, particularly known for their food? Were they really great cooks or food aficionados like you?
They were absolutely not. My dad, he loved one thing more than anything in his life, and that was very soft scrambled eggs. He would say: "Are they fluffy? Are my eggs fluffy?" And my mother would yell at him, "Max, I've been cooking your eggs for 60 years. Do you think I know how to make your eggs by now? And I'm listening to the opera. Why do you have to bother me when I'm listening to the opera?" He says, "I'm just asking." On my father's gravestone, it says, "Are my eggs fluffy?" And on the gravestone next to him, it says, "I'm listening to the opera."
Now, you’ve preserved their exact dialogue in both the Everybody Loves Raymond pilot and literally in stone. There cannot be better tributes from a son than that.
Well, I owe them everything. I know my dad, especially, would have loved the diner. If he lived in the neighborhood, he would be there every day, he would have his eggs and maybe one or two other items on the menu. But, he would have them very plain. In fact, we have a hot sauce because most people like hot sauce. But not them. The only spice in our house was salt, and so we call the hot sauce "Max and Helen's 'Not For Me' Hot Sauce."
What other little touches are there? Their images are on postcards for the diner, and there’s a line drawing of them on the servers’ shirts. I noticed their photos on the walls.
On the menu, there’s the one thing my mom made very well: matzo ball soup. So, there’s Helen’s Matzo Ball Soup. Nancy saw my mom's recipe, and then I have to say — we don't have to tell my mother, but Nancy improved it. Both of my parents are represented all over the walls. And the other photos are pictures of Larchmont Boulevard from 100 years ago. We were starting from zero, a complete redo of the space. I told the designer, Matt Winter, that I wanted it to look like the diner’s been there 100 years. He did a fantastic job. We could actually use more room; we have the outdoor patio now, so that helps. I wish I could make people feel better about waiting, but I guess these are what they call "the good problems."
I’m thrilled that people like it so much, because I truly wanted to give something to this neighborhood that I love. Also, I feel like diners are disappearing from America, and they're very important. In some places, they are the centers of communities. If we lose these diners, then we lose the centers of communities — maybe we lose our communities, and maybe we lose the country. So I'm gonna fix everything with my diner.
Did the diner have that kind of communal impact on you not just in your upbringing, but in your writing life? Were you working with other writers in diners with a tuna melt by your side?
As a matter of fact, the first couple of months of pre-production of Raymond in 1996, there was some reason why the studio was closed. So, we met in the back room of the 101 Coffee Shop, a diner on Franklin. We wrote many of the first season’s episodes in that room.
How do you keep in shape, with your love of food and with running a restaurant?
It's an absolute struggle. I have my ups and downs. Right now, I'm up because the diner is really not helping me. I am working out every single day. I walk as much as I can every day.
I walk to the restaurant, which is about 1.3 miles each way. People have said this to me when they see me on the show: "How do you eat so much?" And the truth is, I don't eat until we film that scene that day. And I don't finish anything. Sometimes you even see me just take a couple of bites and then share [the rest] with the crew. I do that with almost every single dish, and we only film one or two restaurant scenes per day. It looks like I'm eating non-stop for an hour, but it’s filmed over a week. And that’s all I eat.
How does the restaurant preserve Max and Helen's legacy?
There's a warmth that I hope you feel when you come in. And it's the feeling of, for me, being in mom's kitchen — where all my friends always congregated. For some reason, it was our house — not that it was bigger than everybody else's house, it was the same as everybody else's house on our street. Everybody loved Max and Helen, because they were characters. They were funny and very sweet. They just weren’t chefs. But, she always had iced tea in the fridge for everybody. That’s the feeling that now gets to me when I come into the diner. The only bittersweet thing is, I wish they were here to see it.
The restaurant doesn’t just reflect your family’s past, but its present and future, too, correct?
Yes, there already has been a love story in the diner. And that's because my daughter, Lily, married the guy who is the head chef under Nancy, Mason Royal. They run the diner together. He is back-of-house, and she is front-of house. She is amazing at hospitality, and he has adapted Nancy's recipes for mass production and he also oversees all of the cooking. They both are a part of why the diner is so special. I'm so proud of both of them. And I like pulling a little shift there once in a while, where I serve. So it's a whole family affair.
Huge stars have been posting online about eating at Max and Helen’s.
It's very sweet that they want to come. Remember that magazine column, “Stars, they’re just like us?” They like a diner, too.
We all grew up with this food. When they come, they want a waffle or a patty melt — the same as everybody else. Even as a mediocre celebrity like me, I find I get tired of the fancy four-star dining experiences, because they take a lot of time and you just want a simple thing. I always say I'd rather have a good hot dog than a four-hour French tasting menu at this point in my life. Now, I realize I've been very lucky to have those opportunities. But, at the end of the day, when I'm left to my own devices, I'm making a hot dog. I'm making a tuna sandwich. That's what I like to eat.
Still, how does it make you feel when you see Hollywood coming to pay homage?
I don't need them to pay homage. I just need them to pay.
This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
