Specials of the Day.

There are a few restaurants that stick out in my mind for one reason or another. They are all gone now, either replaced by something or demolished all together. Some I remember for the food, some for the ambience, some for an experience or a combination of all three.

So, with the exception of Bill and Nada’s (which has been written about way too much), here they are. ...

Cafe Central — This was in Trolley Square, circa 1984. I think this was Salt Lake’s foray into the adventurous, creative dining scene. It was certainly mine. The restaurant was furnished with brightly colored abstract tables. Shiny ceramic animals bedazzled with beads and feathers decorated the place. This where I discovered chutney, asiago cheese, angel hair noodles, plum sauce, and chocolate gateau. They had a garlic dip for the breadsticks that would ward of a herd of vampires, too. I can’t forget the roller skating blue-haired waiter.

Ferrantelli — Also in Trolley Square. I don’t remember much about the food. However, I do remember one Valentine’s Day the violinist serenaded me and my boyfriend. Pretty progressive for 1988.

E.I.B.O.s — Rounding out the Trolley Square trinity was this little gem. The walls were a gallery of caricatures of Salt Lake’s rich and infamous. Anyone who was anyone had their image scrawled on the wall. E.I.B.O.s had an open-flame grill and a spit spiked with chicken that was served along side their onion straws and shoestring potatoes. Smart diners would order half and half. Oh, and the bleu cheese salad dressing would knock your socks off. I must say that their bread was a little tough.

Seaman James Bartley — This was in a strip mall on Fort Union Boulevard. This place stands out for me a.) because of its unfortunate name and b,) because of the one time I dined there. I guess it was about 1986. We had a company party there (all five of us) and I had come down with a bout of stomach flu. Rather than skip the party and diminish the guest list by 20% I went anyway. I was not a big seafood lover at the time and when I read the menu about the halibut with some sort of cream sauce, I had to leave the table. I ran down the hall and asked a busboy where the restrooms were. He pointed and I flung open the door. The door went into to a banquet hall filled with dozens of people glammed up in their fanciest duds and holding their wine glasses oh, so daintily. I proceeded to hurl all over their party then went back and took my seat at our own.

Hare Hollow — In 1978, I went there before a formal dance when I was a junior in high school. It was on Van Winkle and Highland, much further away than anywhere I had ever eaten in the valley. We were seated in a dining room which had a large picture window. Behind the glass was a deer, some birds and a little rabbit. My date Barbara and I opened our menus. “I’ll have the venison,” Barbara said. I opted for the rabbit. Our dining companions found no humor in either.

The Pagoda — This was a Chinese restaurant that, until recently, occupied a spot in the avenues. When I was in high school, there was no food genre I detested more that Chinese (well, maybe seafood). I contribute it to the takeout my Mom and Frank would bring home from the China Doll Lounge. At any rate, our high school choir had booked the Pagoda for our end-of-the-year banquet. I quivered at the thought of slimy chow mein and gloppy egg foo yung. The night of the banquet, I stopped at Kentucky Fried Chicken and bought a combo meal. When I took my seat in the restaurant, I placed my meal on the table in front of me and began to dig in. Finger lickin’ good.

Luke’s Pizza — This was our neighborhood pizzeria in Poplar Grove. The individual booths that ran around the perimeter of the restaurant were covered with a quaint shingled roof. Chianti bottles covered in gobs of wax drippings adorned the tables. The thing I remember most, though, were Halloween Nights. Trick-or-Treaters would pop in for a free slice of pizza. A little savory to go with all that sugar.

Pipes & Pizza — This was somewhere on State Street in Murray during the late 70s. I’m not sure the pizza was much to speak of. The real draw was the pipe organ. It sat in the middle of the dining hall and was connected to a jumbled conglomeration of drums, banjos, pianos, cymbals and anything else that would make a noise. Silent movies would play on the screen and the organist would accompany them with all their might. It didn’t get much better than that.

Doolittle’s — This was a restaurant/club located in the Airport Hilton in the early 80s. I worked the swing shift at a bank across the street and on the occasional Friday we’d go there for dinner. More frequently, a few of us would go there after work to wind down. My Monte Cristo sandwich would dust my necktie with powdered sugar and my (underage) White Russians made me more than a bit tipsy. We would watch “Friday Night Videos” or “SCTV” poolside on the wide screen television. Then, I would hop into my VW Rabbit and head east on North Temple for a swervy, speedy ride home.

Club Baci (not just “Baci”—that was for the common folk) — In 1988, my friends and I sat  underneath the huge Kenvin Lyman neon mural and had our first taste of bread and balsamic.  Massive stained glass depictions of an Italian bike race separated the club side for the restaurant and upstairs was a mural that lined the entire balcony. Even the matchbooks were the coolest things in town.

Desert Edge — The last restaurant on this list is actually still in operation. Back in the day, it was called “The Pub.” To my friends and I, that’s what it will always be called. While everyone raves about the French Onion soup (which really is yummy), My mind  always goes back to the enchiladas, the nachos and pitcher after pitcher of 3.2 Coors Light. Now, for the most part, I opt for a niçoise salad and an iced tea. It’s still the best around.

The food folks all say that the Salt Lake dining scene is finally coming into its own. I think its been here all along.