One of the reasons I like El Segundo is that, sandwiched among the commercial crush of LAX, the sprawling campuses of aerospace companies, the towering behemoth of the Chevron plant, and the Manhattan Beachyness of Manhattan Beach, it's managed to retain its small-town feel. Lighting up my Cuban cigar while Jeff served us tri-tip and among friends old and new, Los Angeles wasn't even on my mental map.

I used to make infrequent but regular stops at the Richmond Bar & Grill back when my college buddies all lived in El Segundo and worked in the nearby aerospace buildings. One by one, the wheel of big corporation wore on them, and drove them away from the city, leaving only myself (who was never in the business) and a few others. Richmond was a weekly stop, was everything that I like in a watering hole -- friendly food, delicious service, and the ability to stay really low-key.

I had arrived in El Segundo early and first decided to kill some time at Second City Bistro a block away. I didn't eat anything other than pick at the cheese plate since the menu read like the what's what of unimaginative menu items. The menu for Richmond's cigar night was simple on paper, but it drew depth from the warmth of the space and the patrons. Second City, not so much. (Ever since the restaurant opened, we had always commented that it would do really well if it were in, say, Pasadena. The Gundo is a small town and there doesn't seem to be much a call for tuna tartare.)

We start off with a Mediterranean-ish salad. I'm still coating my mouth with nicotine at this point, so I barely touch mine, though the vinaigrette did help to refresh my tar-laden palate.

Moving onto the main course was the tri-tip, baked beans, fries and corn on the cob. Nothing world shattering here, but in the context of getting to hang out with friends, in a down-to-earth bar that's firmly entrenched as part of my memory, I wasn't looking to change the world.

Until I bit into those fries.

The French fries that Jeff served that night were so perfectly seasoned and baking it gave just enough bite on the exterior while totally preserving the fluffy interior. Richmond typically serves their home-made potato chips with their sandwiches and burgers. The fries were a compelling reason to start prepping more potatoes.

For dessert, it was a cheesecake that seemed to have an apple pie filling inside it. As was the case with the salad, the resultant sweetness helped to ease my mouth back to normalcy, in the same way that I always crave ice cream after Korean BBQ.

Cigar night is a special occasion at the Richmond, and I've been lucky to have a small-town bar as part of my big-city experience here in LA. The councilman at the end of the bar might now be mayor, and my friends may have all moved away, but Richmond carries on, like a slow burn or a wisp of smoke.