The old-school décor at Billy Reed's will transport you back to simpler times.
PHOTOGRAPHY BY MOLLIE KIMBERLING
I’m two years older than Billy Reed’s restaurant in North Palm Springs. If I’d grown up in the desert, we would have grown up together. I would have asked to go there for every birthday, after every piano recital, and for Sunday breakfast after church.
As it was, I first stepped into the sprawling Victorian-saloon-meets-1970s-upscale-coffee-shop when I moved here from Brooklyn in 2006. The glow from the stained-glass lamps, the warm wood, the decorative plates on the walls, and the deep menu of American classics was like finding an old friend in a new town.
I love that dinners arrive with soup or salad, the vegetable du jour, your choice of bread, and yet another starch. I love the thick sense of time and the sleepy location. And I love that, even in high season, you can get a seat at one of the few surviving restaurants from the midcentury era, though there’s nothing “mod” about it.
Whatever life throws at you takes a timeout at Billy Reed’s. The quiet, slightly formal atmosphere hits mellow and familiar like the first sip of your favorite wine; but feel free to order a martini.