L.A. Restaurants

THE VIKING'S TABLE — The Viking's Table was a chain of all-you-can-eat buffet restaurants scattered around L.A. The main one I visited (just once) was located in Culver City. On the front, a huge, you-can't-miss-it sign proclaimed "Smorgasboard," which along with some artwork conveyed images of luscious carved meats, steaming trays of rotisseried fowl, hearty portions of fresh veggies. Inside, you learned it meant a steam table full of the kind of thing you'd find in your high school cafeteria and say, "Uh, I think I'll go outside and get a sandwich from the machine." I recall a lot of creamed items...what I guess was creamed chicken, though you could never be sure. I don't know if the places were ever any good — I'm guessing they'd have to have been — but by the time I got to one, forget about it. I gave up on the Viking's Table and so did everyone else. They all closed...I thought.

Years later, going to an Egghead Software store (remember them?) on Pico at Bundy, I parked down the block and found myself in front of small restaurant that called itself The Viking's Table and promised all I could eat for five or so bucks. As much out of curiosity as hunger, I went in and found that an Asian family was operating the place and that while the decor was travel posters of Sweden, the repast was Chinese — mostly "filler" foods like fried hollow won tons, rice and soft noodles. There was meat on the steam table but not much...and if you looked like you might be inclined to go get some, a small, Oriental child would be sent to your table to deliver a basket of bread. She would stare at you with eyes like a Walter Keane painting, silently pleading with you not to eat much...and you wouldn't. Not because of the little girl but because there just wasn't much there worth eating.

That one closed, too. I think they're all gone. So are the Vikings, probably because if that's what they have on their tables, they all starved to death.

JUNIOR'S DELICATESSEN — What? Why does this list of defunct eateries include Junior's, a deli located on Westwood Boulevard near Pico which is still operating, still one of the busiest dining establishments on the West Side?

Because we're remembering the original Junior's, which was located a few blocks away on Pico, in a building which is now Maria's Italian Kitchen. (It was a couple of different dining establishments between the time it was Junior's and when it became Maria's. For a long time, it was an outlet of Damiano's, aka Mr. Pizza, and it was very good. So was the Damiano's on Robertson, just south of Pico, which isn't there any more. The only remaining Damiano's — for those who want their Italian food as much like "New York style" as possible out here — is over on Fairfax, across from Canter's.)

The original Junior's was a two-man operation, owned and run by Marvin Saul and his brother. Marvin can still be seen often around the current Junior's, wandering about and asking people if they're enjoying their corned beef. Once upon a time, he and his brother were cutting the corned beef. And the lox and the salami. It was the friendliest of delis because they seemed to remember every customer (by name, if possible) and they were always throwing in little freebees. If you ordered and paid for a half-pound of roast beef, they tossed in an extra ounce or two.

On the counter was a little container of shtickels. A shtickel is like a miniature salami...big enough for two or three bites. They cost ten cents apiece in the mid-sixties and a hand-lettered sign on the bin said, "It used to be a nickel a shtickel...now it's a dime, ain't it a crime?" Whenever I went into Junior's with my mother, one of the Saul brothers would treat me to a free shtickel.

Most of their business was Take Out but there were a couple of tables there and if you ordered a sandwich, one of the Sauls would make it, bring it to you at a table and make sure you had silverware, water, etc. The food was very good and they did a good business, so I guess it didn't surprise anyone when they bought the larger building on Westwood, moved over there and began expanding. Eventually, they bought out their neighbors, knocked out walls and had a huge delicatessen with a large staff and a superb on-premises bakery.

The food there is generally pretty good but I miss the personal service and friendliness of the old place. And I really miss the shtickels.

LITTLE JOE'S — This photo from a postcard is supposed to be of the interior of Little Joe's, a very famous Italian restaurant in Los Angeles that opened in the twenties. In the late fifties, it became a big hangout for Dodgers fans. Located not all that far from where they played, it was a place to go before a game or — better still — after, when players were known to stop in. If the game was being televised, some people would decide to not hassle the parking and just watch it at the bar in Little Joe's.

Little Joe's was located just where you'd expect to find a very famous Italian restaurant: In the middle of Chinatown at 900 N. Broadway. It was apparently a throwback to the days when that area was originally settled by Italian-Americans. Last time I was down there, the building — abandoned for years — was still standing with most of its signs intact. There have been reports of a shopping center and/or condo complex being built on the property soon.

In truth, I don't remember the inside of Little Joe's looking much like the above postcard. I remember a dark room with plush booths — but I was only there once. For years, my family and I had heard of Little Joe's. It was a very famous place to slurp pasta and everyone in my family was eager to try it. Everyone but me, that is. At the time, my favorite Italian restaurant was Zito's, which was much closer and where we never had a meal we didn't love. So why travel all the way downtown to try a place which, at best, might be just as good?

Good question. And the answer was that my Aunt Dot was on a "try new things" kick, lecturing us that there was something wrong with a person who stuck with the same old, same old. In 1969, on the day I graduated from high school, it was decided we'd follow the ceremony with a big family outing to some restaurant. Somehow, though it was my Graduation Day, I didn't have a vote in the matter. We were going to Little Joe's.

It was a long drive and a long wait for a table, and then the food failed to thrill us. When that happens in a place like that, you wonder if something's wrong with you. After all, thousands and thousands of people have raved about the cuisine. It can't be as bad as you think it is, can it? How could they be open all those years and have such a great reputation with mediocre cuisine? But they lasted a long time without, obviously, my business.

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