Eating Out

   I remember fewer restaurants than I should but there a were few that made a lasting impression. Two,  Clifton's in downtown Los Angeles and The Tic Toc in Hollywood are memorable because they were "events"--respectively a birthday party and a post sermon dinner with my grandfather.  But the restaurants that I really remember were because of both their ambiance AND their food. 

   At the top of the list is The Tam O’Shanter. Little did I know during post-church Sunday visits that one day I would live in Scotland, read the works of Robert Burns and marry a Scotsman who would return to the Tam with his own tartan to be added to a wall that displayed them. The Tam provided all Silverlake-ites with a touch of the real thing. Disney must have had a thing for Scotland because Grey Friar’s Bobby was also a highlight of my childhood. When I lived in Edinburgh, I never passed the small statue dedicated to Bobby that sits on the sidewalk just outside of Gray Friar's Kirk without a smile. Going to the Tam O’Shanter was like entering a completely different world. I visit it every time I return to Los Angeles—even if I’ve just come from the real thing.

 My favorite Tam O'Shanter dish was the cold slaw with peanuts—which is still on the menu today.  It gratefully contained no mayonnaise.  Other childhood favorites were the hamburger steak with mushroom gravy and the thickly battered fish and equally thickly cut chips with plenty of tartar sauce.

   Second on the list of restaurants was Conrad’s. Today it is called Astro’s –with good cause. It had a space-aged sign and shape and was, basically, a coffee shop out of the Jetson’s. Once my mother went back to work, dinners were harder to pull together. And, on the evenings when we went to Conrad’s, she could relax. Many years later she told me what a joy it was to be able to afford to go out.

   Conrad’s had a long Formica counter that I believe was aqua in color.  It ran the length of the open kitchen. There were friendly and patient waitresses with name tags and a menu that appealed to all the family. My favorite dish was The Captain’s Plate—deep fried scallops and shrimp and fries. There was probably some fish in there as well. I thought tartar sauce was a food group.

  Conrad’s was where I was tutored in the Americana of salad dressing choices: blue cheese (my preference) Italian, Green Goddess, Thousand Island (when did you hear that on an modern restaurant selection? ) and that sweet red Russian dressing that has also faded from menus—and not without cause.  At home, we always had Italian dressing made from a dry packet of spices, shaken in a jar with oil and vinegar.  But I'm not talking balsamic vinegar or extra virgin olive oil.

   The third restaurant of memory was Blum’s. It was on the top floor of I.Magnin’s on Wilshire Boulevard and it was strictly a ladies place. This was often where we would meet my grandmother. It was pink and black and had padded booths that went around the semi circle of the restaurant. The food I have no memory of, but the desserts are another matter. I am not one to covet sweets. I can say “no” to chocolate without effort. But the Blum’s Crunch Cakes were a different matter. They came in two flavors: lemon and coffee. Coffee was by far the best. I would eat a big slice with iced coffee (feeling that iced coffee was far more sophisticated than iced tea.)

   I still think of that cake. I found a recipe for it on the internet and some day I will attempt to re-create it.

  Van De Kamp’s was both a drive-in and a sit-in restaurant. This was as close to Holland as I ever got until I was in my late twenties. The huge decorative windmill seemed exotic and was further from the pot bars and red light district of Amsterdam than one could ever imagine.  The signature colors were blue and white and the food had absolutely nothing to do with the Netherlands. My two favorite dishes were (yet again) the overly battered fish and chips (with tartar sauce) and the cheese enchiladas. After a dinner here, my father often drove to the car to a neighboring Foster Freeze where we would watch in wonderment as the vanilla cones were dipped into the hot, paraffin-like chocolate coating.

  No one had ever heard about cholesterol in those days.