Barefoot counts and countesses who have eaten at the place include Pierce Brosnan, Owen and Luke Wilson, Cheech Marin, Pink and Carey Hart, and the Neptune's Net of stars: Pamela Anderson. In the most recent iteration of Grand Theft Auto, you can wander around a video game version of the Net called Hookies (the game did not get permission from the owners), complete with accurate depiction of the outhouse restrooms, which seem to be there less out of logistical necessity than as a way of weeding out patrons who are too good to cop a squat and hold their breaths.įor all of its unapologetic, undusted ceiling fans and pigeon droppings on the outdoor rafters, it is not unusual to spot a celebrity at Neptune's Net.
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TV shows like Gossip Girl and The Hills have shot there, and, according to one employee, Keeping Up With The Kardashians has planned to film there multiple times, but always backs out. The restaurant itself is also featured in Point Break and many other movies, including The Fast and the Furious and Iron Man 3 (which didn't film there, but replicated it as part of a fake Malibu that was actually shot in Florida). County Line is world-famous: The Beach Boys sang about it. Going out: voyeurs carrying tacos they'll eat while watching others in the water below. Coming in: surfers with wet stringy hair and half-unzipped wetsuits. There is a steady flow of foot traffic in each direction. To get back and forth between the beach and the restaurant, you have to jaywalk across the highway. The beach break that is Neptune's Net's front yard is surfed mostly by locals, who will be cool with interlopers so long as they don't try to steal their waves. A few times a year, lucky audiences on the patio catch a high-speed police pursuit or other evidence of what the world has to offer while everyone else is busy following rules. The ocean is directly before you, framed by cliffs and that gravel artery the PCH, where, on weekends, bikers from Germany and France and the hills above roar by, popping wheelies for show. You take your time dipping fries in ketchup or tartar sauce, which, of course, you pumped yourself at the metal counters, where you also got your own plastic utensils and opened your own bottle too. No one will ask what you're doing on the patio, where you can hide outside with the other outsiders. Neptune's Net is, and always has been, a safe place to play hooky. When I was a teenager ditching school there with a surfer I had a crush on, he convinced me to try a bite, on the grounds that clams don't have faces. The chowder bowl is the only meat I've eaten since becoming a vegetarian at age eight. Signature menu items on the restaurant side include fish & chips, a crab cake burger, and clam chowder in a sourdough bread bowl. After you've grabbed your own drink, you head to the counter, where a laid-back cashier in a t-shirt will ring you up for that and whatever greasy bullshit you've decided you deserve. As might be expected from a restaurant where shoes but not shirts are required, domestic tallboys are the hot ticket item. The back wall is a long refrigerator filled with rare IPAs and seasonal microbrews. It was built in 1957 and has housed the same deep fryers in the same location for the past 50 years. The "restaurant side" is the original part of the building. Now act like you've fucking been here before. This is the core of Neptune's Net's philosophy: All are welcome.
On your way up the steps of the outdoor patio, a sign asks (and then tells): "First time? Here's the plan," and instructs you to claim dibs on a seat before ordering from one of the place's two sides: seafood or restaurant. Immediately beside them are stalls where the Harleys park. Tourists pose next to the iconic sign, with its whimsical font. Topless construction workers lean against truck beds and sip from six packs they've purchased inside. The parking lot smells of cigarettes and sea breeze. It's a crumbling and colorful building that is mostly patio: a daytime watering hole for bikers, local surfers, and other divorcees who are married to the sea. There is also one restaurant here, at the overgrown border of Los Angeles and the rest of the world: Neptune's Net. On the other, brush and hillsides that are prone to erosion and fire. On one side, County Line is rocks and rotting staircases you have to negotiate to get to the water.
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Cars perpetually round the blind corners of this strip of Pacific Coast Highway-Porsche Carreras, rented Camrys, beat up Volkswagens with longboards strapped to the roof-any of which could brake abruptly to snag a spot on the shoulder so that their driver can jump out and into the waves.
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