You step out from a vintage Rolls-Royce in the hazy glow of 1970s Los Angeles, ready to escape the pressure of stardom, if only for a meal. You’ve been fortunate enough to score a reservation at a restaurant whispered about for its supposedly unlisted phone number and A-list clientele, with regulars like Orson Welles, Morgan Fairchild, and Ed McMahon. Here, a single Friday lunch could double your Rolodex of famous friends, or potentially land a coveted spot on the guest list of its (in)famous Christmas party.
Welcome to Ma Maison, the restaurant that redefined dining for Hollywood’s elite. At the door stands an imposing man with a faint Parisian accent and an impeccable suit despite the burning midday sun. His name? Patrick Terrail, and he’s just welcomed you into his home, or “maison” in French. This sentiment was no metaphor. Every guest who crossed his threshold wasn’t simply there for a meal—they were being invited into this world.
Before the Bentleys and gossip columns, Patrick Terrail was just a young Frenchman chasing his dreams across the Atlantic. The grandson of the legendary restaurateur behind Paris’s La Tour d’Argent, Terrail carried both the burden and blessing of legacy. When he arrived in Los Angeles in the early 1970s, he found a city starved for the European spirit he was so accustomed to. The dining scene was trapped in stiff formality inside dimly lit rooms that felt so far from the light and laughter of European cafés. Terrail saw an opportunity to bring something unheard of to the area, to bring the breezy, open-air dining culture of the South of France to the Californian scene.
Terrail opened Ma Maison on a quiet stretch of Melrose Avenue in 1973, with what was little more than a converted patio with Astroturf on the floor and mismatched furniture. But that patio would prove critically important to the originality and appeal of the restaurant. Instead of hiding fine dining behind velvet curtains, Terrail brought it outdoors. The perennially warm LA could now foster the smell of fantastic, fresh cuisine, the sound of laughter and conversation floating into the street. With sunlight filtering through the tarps and champagne glasses catching the light, Ma Maison turned eating into an experience that was luxurious and casual, intimate yet alive.
In pioneering this unique atmosphere, Terrail introduced to the world what he called California nouvelle, a concept that seemed radical at the time and would come to dominate California cuisine for decades. Ma Maison’s now-legendary head chef, Wolfgang Puck, helped turn the menu into a revolution, combining classical French training with Cali soul, but Terrail was always the conductor of the orchestra.
Behind the glamour, was a perfectionist obsessed with the details that made Ma Maison come alive. “I always had the mentality in the mornings that no one was going to show up,” Terrail told me. “But eventually, they showed up.” His quiet humility, paired with unsparing excellence, was clearly a draw to many.
He also spoke about how much the work meant to him, long after the doors had closed. “[B]eing in the restaurant business is sort of like a drug. You love it or you hate it. And I loved it.”
By the 1980s, Ma Maison’s legend had spread around the world. Its influence rippled across LA’s dining scene, leading to a new generation of chef-driven restaurants and open-air dining spaces. Yet for Terrail, it was never about fame or fortune. “It doesn’t matter what business you want to be in, and success isn’t the right word for what you’re working for,” he said. “If you work hard, good things will happen, whether that’s money or anything else. But never go into doing something to be a success; go into it because you love it. Then you will be successful.”
Terrail believed that fine dining wasn’t about exclusivity, but intimacy, a unique environment that allowed for the stars to step out of the spotlight and simply enjoy themselves. Its spirit endures in every trendy LA restaurant with a patio dining area and in every star who still believes that dinner can be an event. His words echo everything Ma Maison stood for: passion, rather than pretense. “If you passionately love something, then somebody will recognize it and will reward you for it, not the other way around,” he said.
Anyone who still finds themselves intrigued by the countless witty anecdotes, the brushes with fame, and the privileges of LA high society that are unique to Terrail’s insider perspective are in luck. His book, A Taste of Hollywood, provides an autobiographical perspective of a truly remarkable life with a composed yet human tone of voice, providing a sense of understated luxury. This tone proves to be hypnotically investive and, when paired alongside the singularity and frankness of the stories and the star-studded photos that douse the reader in a tidal wave of nostalgia, no unsuspecting reader is safe from wishing to be a part of the mythology of such an incredible place.
Patrick Terrail didn’t just feed Hollywood, but gave it a place to gather, to rest, to breathe, and, even for a moment, to belong. Ma Maison was never about plates or profits. It was about people. And for those lucky enough to step inside, it wasn’t just dinner, it was home.
