Eastside throwback store L & M Dairy offers drive-through convenience

On Costa Mesa’s trendy 17th Street Promenade, where marketing teams help herald the newest artisan dishes and handmade crafts, L & M Dairy sells its run-of-the-mill wares in stark contrast to all the fuss.

It’s a simple convenience store, in a none-too-obvious alley, but with friendly drive-through service from its unassuming owners, Pat and Lila Patel, the shop has earned a loyal customer base.

The Indian immigrant couple has operated their little store just off East 17th, at 1712 Santa Ana Ave., since 1989. If the address doesn’t help, this might: It’s the open-air, garage-looking place, next to the Jiffy Lube, attached to the same (partially) ivy-covered building as Belle Amie Studios, across the street from Mi Casa.

But now, after 26 years and after raising two boys who have careers of their own, they’re looking to sell the place and retire.

L & M Dairy is open 12 hours a day, seven days a week. Pat and Lila are its only employees. Though they used to live in Costa Mesa, they now commute from their home in Corona. Their sentiments echo those from any other pending retiree.

“I’m tired,” said a smiling Lila on a recent afternoon while sweeping the floor. The smell of incense was wafting throughout the store.

“I don’t want to work anywhere,” added a soft-spoken Pat in an interview the following day. “Five miles away or anywhere.”

The Patels are asking for $200,000 for L & M Dairy, as is. They bought it 26 years ago for $75,000. “Everything was cheaper back then,” Pat said.

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Eagle eyes passing through may notice L & M is up for sale. The Patels wrote it on a Coca-Cola advertising sign, next to some refrigerators.

Considering its location in the sought-after, hipster-friendly East 17th Street, L & M Dairy is a throwback. No Yelp reviews. No big advertising presence to speak of.

It does have a small street-side sign — about the size of a ice chest — on the grassy space in front of Belle Amie Studios, and a faded vinyl sign on its building.

Though once common, drive-through convenience stores are now a rarity. Costa Mesa has one other on Baker Street, though the Patels’ is smaller and more inconspicuous. It would be easy enough to drive right on by.

But, for L & M regulars, it’s even easier to drive right on in and ask the Patels for some cigarettes, lotto tickets, beer, wine, candy or whatever else is on their shelves. You don’t even have to get out of your car. They’ll come up to you.

As the name suggests, they do sell milk, but only Alta Dena milk and associated products, like ice cream.

In response to customer requests, in 2002 L & M Dairy applied for a liquor license to complement its beer and wine sales. The Patels gathered more than 400 customer signatures in their appeal to the City Council, which was unanimously denied.

The Patels made other attempts through the years, but never received an approval. As Lila recalls, the reasoning was too many liquor licenses already in the area.

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On a recent afternoon, Pat kept quietly busy in his store. The phone rang every few minutes. One man came in, dog in tow.

Later, Cole Berry, who works at the Big O Tires nearby, bought an energy drink and cigarettes.

“Good dude, all around,” he said of Pat.

Cars pulled up. Some kept the engine running and got out; others stayed seated and were served.

That personal attention is one thing that has always separated L & M Dairy, Pat noted.

“7-Eleven is a big franchise,” he said. “When it’s a big franchise, it’s worse service.”

Pat says the business changed little over the years, aside from those economic swings that affected everyone. He did learn a few things along the way, like this tidbit: “If they need two cans, they don’t buy a six-pack. That’s what I figured out.”

Costa Mesa resident Caroline Luypen is an L & M Dairy regular. This week, when she drove up in her red Toyota Solara, she first learned about the Patels leaving.

“I’ve been coming here for a hundred years,” she chided, but with a hint of frustration over the news. “It’s very convenient. You can just pull in, get what you forgot at the market.”

A companion in her car chimed in, words aimed at Pat: “You’re not allowed to sell!”

A few minutes later, Pat, 59, reflected on his time in his store, his family’s small embodiment of the American dream. He’s seen the neighborhood’s kids grow into adulthood.

His own two children worked there. One now owns two Subways and a yogurt store in Louisiana. The second is a nurse in Fountain Valley.

When asked if he’ll take any keepsakes from the store, Pat shrugged.

“Just a memory,” he said. “That’s all you can take.”