I’ve heard it a hundred times: “Don’t bother taking your kid to a restaurant until they’re at least four or five. Eating out before then isn't worth it, especially in L.A.”
But I wanted to challenge that.
My son is three and on the spectrum, which means our adventures come with a few extra layers of sensory input (and output!). Still, as a former full-time line cook turned part-time-sometimes-kind-of-a-line-cook-if-my-son’s-schedule-allows, I wasn’t ready to give up the magic of dining out. And I certainly didn’t want my son excluded from a space built around community.
Some of my favorite childhood memories were made in restaurants. Growing up in Palmdale, California, my family would head to El Torreo after Sunday mass. They had an all-you-can-eat buffet, and I’d proudly serve myself two enchiladas before sliding into one of those big red booths like I was one of the grown-ups. Restaurants made me feel like I belonged part of the table, part of the conversation.
Sure, Palmdale isn’t Los Angeles. It’s smaller, with bigger families, chain restaurants, and endless parking lots. But at its core, Los Angeles has always been about community. When families start feeling less welcome in local restaurants (or stop going altogether) it feels like we’re losing a little bit of what makes this city special.