Smorgasbords

Mom loved to eat.  But she didn't love to cook.  Before Dad died, most of our dinners were either frozen TV dinners or canned Spaghetti O's.  After Dad passed away, we ate lots of fast food from Der Wienerschnitzel, Jack in the Box, KFC and Arby's, and of course, tons of pizza.  But at least two or three times a month we were treated to a smorgasbord meal.

In the 1970s, there were three competing all-you-can-eat businesses in San Diego. Mom's favorite was called Sir George's Smorgasbord.

A newspaper ad from 1971

 I can't remember where it was located because it was out in the county and required a bit of a drive.  My faintest memory tells me it was somewhere in La Mesa.  Sir George's food was great.  There were lots of salads and vegetables.  I loved veggies, and since we didn't get too many vegetables with our fast food meals,  I always loaded up when we went to Sir George's. They also had the most delectable fritters.  They were delicately crispy on the outside, soft and slightly sweet on the inside.  Mom always filled a plate with fritters. But the item that drove her to distraction was the chicken. She could not resist those crunchy golden pieces of fried chicken piled up in a rectangular silver steam table pan.  Unlike Colonel Sanders' chicken, which was salty and had too many secret herbs and spices,  Sir George's fried chicken had a mild seasoning and a thin breading.    Mom couldn't get enough of it.  The prices were a very reasonable two bucks a person, and little kids prices were even cheaper.  We were never allowed to order a drink other than water, however,  because drinks cost extra.

Perry Boys Smorgy was a newcomer to San Diego in the 70's.

A newspaper ad from 1973

 It opened up in Kearny Mesa, just off the freeway that Mom always called Highway 395 even though it had been renamed 163 sometime in the 60s.  Compared to Sir George's smaller floor space, Perry Boys was huge and could serve twice as many people.  It had the regular daily staples like fried chicken, mac and cheese, and mashed potatoes and gravy.  But there were rotating menus as well.  Tuesday was Italian night, Wednesday was Chinese night, Thursday was Mexican night, etc.    Perry Boys had big red vinyl-covered booths that sat six. The food was definitely not as tasty as Sir George's, but it had two things in its favor that had us kids hooked on the place:  The soft drinks and soft serve ice cream were included in the price, and we could serve ourselves.

 The bad thing about unlimited trips to the soda fountain and dessert table is that we had no self control.  I will always remember our final trip to Perry Boy's Smorgy. Mom let me bring one of my friends.  The four of us kids engaged in a session of soda and ice cream gluttony that ended up with my little six year old sister Tabatha suddenly complaining that her stomach hurt.  Mom told her to stop eating, but it was too late.  She whined that she was going to throw up.  Mom looked across the expansive floor towards the restroom and realized that she would never get there in time.  She told her to hurry up and get under the table.  Tabatha ducked underneath the booth and threw her guts up, while I sat there rolling my eyes at my horrified friend. Suddenly none of us felt like eating anymore. As soon as my sister was finished vomiting, Mom quickly got us up and out of there, leaving a disgusting mess on the floor under the table, and no tip for the unfortunate person who was stuck with the clean-up. We didn't return to that buffet again.

The other all-you-can-eat place was the Bit of Sweden Smorgasbord.  It was located up on busy El Cajon Blvd, amid the car dealerships, furniture stores, and funeral homes, just a few miles away from Eagle Street.  Bit of Sweden was in a very small building, with round wooden tables that had real tablecloths and sat four people.  There were colorful wooden clogs and a framed old map of Sweden mounted on the wall. The buffet table was very small and featured mostly exotic stuff like cucumber and dill with sour cream and Swedish meatballs with gravy, but they also had roasted chicken, which made Mom happy.  This food was too fancy to suit the palates of small children. We didn't go to this buffet very often because there really wasn't enough variety of food to choose from.

Whenever Mom took us to Sir George's to eat, she had a plan in mind.  The plan was to not only fill our stomachs, but to fill other things too.  She gave each of us kids a canvas sack, which we were required to keep folded up and hidden when we entered the restaurant.  Walking through the buffet line with our plates, we kids could take what we preferred to eat, but we had to leave room for the pieces of fried chicken that Mom would pile onto our plates. After returning to our table,  we would then pass our sacks under the table to mom.  She would look around to make sure no one was watching, put a paper napkin in her lap and unfold it. Then while we kids were chowing down on our meal, she would snatch a piece of chicken from someone's plate, drop it to her lap and roll it up in the napkin.  Then she stuffed it in a bag.

 Over and over she did this, until our bags were full.  She would strive to leave the restaurant with at least five or six pieces in each bag, and she usually took only breasts, never legs or wings. In her bag, she placed a dozen or more of the tasty fritter balls. When it was time to leave, each kid would have to carry out a bag of fried chicken.  We always left very quickly, with our food bags under our jackets.   When we got home, she would take the bags to the kitchen, remove the chicken from the napkins, place them in big Tupperware container and store it in the fridge. The fritters usually were eaten up that same night, but the chicken would last for days before it was all gone.

I don't remember us kids ever eating any of that stolen chicken.  For one thing, the only part of the bird I liked were the wings, and she never stole wings.  And also, we didn't really like fried chicken all that much.   I think that Mom probably ate all that chicken herself, while we kids ate our preferred Pirate Picnic or Safari Supper frozen dinners. Once the chicken was all gone in a few days, we would resume our fast food visits for dinner.

Sir George's suffered the most from Mom's kleptomania.  Perry Boy's food did not really appeal to her as much, although she did fill some to-go bags there too. I always felt pretty guilty about being an accomplice to these thefts.  Mom justified her actions by saying that the prices were so high that you could hardly blame a poor widowed mother of three to try to get value for her dollar by taking a little extra.  To me, it felt wrong.  But Mom said that it was ok to bag a little extra chicken at the buffet, so long as you don't get caught.

One night, Mom took us kids to the Bit of Sweden Smorgasbord. As usual, she armed each of us with a tote bag and we knew the drill. But I was getting older, almost a teenager, and getting an attitude. I really did not want any part of it anymore.   As she drove us there, I defiantly told Mom that I didn't want to carry a bag.  This irritated her to the point where she swatted me and told me I would be carrying a bag.  I said nothing else about it until we were at the tiny restaurant eating our meals.  Mom had already filled three bags with roasted chicken, but I refused to pass mine to her.  She couldn't say a thing to me but her glaring eyes told me that there would be a whipping when we got home.  I didn't care.  I was through with Smorgasbord shoplifting and willing to take my punishment.

We all got up quickly to leave.  As we passed by the front desk, we were stopped by the manager, a tiny old woman with a foreign accent, who ordered us back into the dining room.  "Attention guests," she loudly announced. " I would like you all to see these thieves and what they stole from our restaurant." Then a tall man came from the kitchen and stood in front of the door so we could not bolt.  "Come here, and show everyone what is in your bags," she demanded. Everyone in the restaurant stopped eating and turned to watch. Mom meekly dumped her bag of chicken on the table.  Then my stunned little brother and sister dumped out their bags of chicken. It was my turn.  I walked over to the table, turned my empty bag upside down, looked at the guests and at Mom, and defiantly smiled as nothing fell out. "Now, take your bags and your children, leave, and never, ever return.  If we see you again we will call the police," said the woman.  We turned and ran out of the Bit of Sweden, with Mom shouting out, "We didn't really like your food anyhow!"

This could have been used as the "watch for these people" posting at Smorgasbords in 1973

The former Bit of Sweden, now a little French café.

Needless to say, that was the last time we ate at Bit of Sweden.   We never spoke of that humiliating event.  Mom may have kept up with her food stealing, but she never made us carry bags for her again. And no, I did not get a beating that night.