Driving down PCH these days feels less like a coastal cruise and more like a sad reminder of the Palisades/Malibu fires. But the reward at the end of this particular Malibu quest? Dinner for six at Lucky’s, tucked into the Country Mart, where the parking is free—yes, free—and in Malibu that’s basically the unicorn of amenities.

We were seated right on time and greeted by a server so charming and attentive that we were half-tempted to adopt her. Drinks arrived swiftly: a few cocktails for the adventurous, and for the rest, glasses of Wither Hills New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc. This wine is basically summer in a glass—grapefruit, tropical fruit, a whiff of fresh herbs—and so refreshing that I immediately added “buy cases of this” to my to-do list.

Appetizers rolled out like a red carpet of comfort food. The French Onion Soup Gratinee was on the sweeter side, but still bubbling and cheesy enough to hush all complaints. Then came the Skinny Onion Rings (because fried onions somehow become “skinny” if you call them that) and the famous grilled artichoke with drawn butter—an Olympic-level finger food that makes you forget you’re in polite company.

Salads at Lucky’s are not the sad side greens you push around on your plate. The Lucky’s Salad is basically the showstopper of salads: shrimp, bacon, avocado, green beans, roasted peppers, Roquefort, and tomatoes piled high on romaine. It’s so good it deserves its own fan club. The Wedge salad also makes an appearance, proving that iceberg lettuce still has star power when dressed in Roquefort or Thousand Island.

Then came the mains, and things escalated quickly. The Sunday short ribs arrived fall-off-the-bone tender and dripping with flavor. A Philly Cheesesteak made with actual New York strip and cheddar showed up to ruin all future cheesesteaks for us. Three Market Meatloafs hit the table—so large they came with their own zip codes—served with mashed potatoes and spinach. Bonus: the leftovers guarantee a meatloaf sandwich the next day, and possibly a new lease on life. Someone also braved the burger, an 8oz patty with cheese and truffle fries. No regrets, just silence and happy chewing.

Dessert was, of course, unavoidable. Molten Chocolate Cake, Crème Brûlée, and Tiramisu marched out triumphantly, and yes, we ate all of them even though we were allegedly “too full.” At Lucky’s, dessert stomachs are very real.

The food coma gave us time to reflect on Lucky’s history: the original Montecito location, built in 1926 as the Montecito Bungalows, once had such a rough run it was considered “out of luck.” In 2000, Gene Montesano and partners Jimmy Argyropoulos and Herb Simon decided luck favors the bold, gave the place a glow-up, and the legend of Lucky’s was born. Now it’s thriving in Montecito, Malibu, and even New York.

So yes, PCH may be a disaster zone, but with a dinner this good, I’d happily brave the sad sights again. Because when you eat at Lucky’s, luck is definitely on your side.