Even if you've never traveled to this corner of the universe, the sight of Daglas on its busy stretch of Roscoe is calculated to bring you cheer. The curved, soaring sign is as exuberant as Los Angeles during the mid-'60s: Yellow balls perch on iron crenellations around the perimeter of the roof like jewels atop a crown, and a sharp, garlicky scent of pastrami lingers through the char-burger smoke.
