Phillips

For a generation of Angelenos, the take-out window of this Leimert Park hole-in-the-wall has been an initiation of sorts, the first taste of honest wood-meets-pig, burn-your-lips barbecue. Some claim Phillips has grown blasé, diluted by expansion, but those pork ribs, especially the charred, caramelized nubs known as short ends, remain civic treasures—especially when swimming in a tray of piquant, lava-colored sauce.