The Community Word

Try to contain your grief, Community Word readers. Red Zin, the upscale eatery in the Twin Tower’s building in downtown Peoria, is going to close. I know. I was stunned too. I think I’ve eaten there, oh, I dunno, three times in my life. The last time was some sort of political function. I liked the place, kinda. The food was top notch, and the place was swimming with muckety-mucks. A couple of them remain good sources for inside information to this day. I also fondly recall suit-and-tie-guy who couldn’t keep his eyes averted from my platonic dining companion’s cleavage. Hey, we’re all human.

The newspaper article on the closure implied that the joint just couldn’t compete with all those new restaurants opening up on the other side of the river next to Super Wal-Mart. It’s nonsense, of course. If you are inclined to dine at Red Zin, you ain’t gonna be lured away by the corporate-style rustic charm of Corky’s Ribs & BBQ.

The sad fact is that restaurants open and close all the time. A lot of times, they are not well capitalized, which means they ran out of money. Sometimes the owners just get burned out because it is damned hard work. Sometimes, the owners are crooks. Other times, the owners just don’t know what the hell they are doing. Some eateries close because they no longer serve their purpose as tax write-offs.

The result is that most people have fond memories of their favorite joints.

The Red Zin story got me thinking of places I’ve eaten in days gone by.

Heritage House: Of course, there are a lot of chain eateries that lay out a big buffet. But the Heritage House — located on North Knoxville just north of Pioneer Parkway — was called a smorgasbord. I grew up thinking that this was fine dining, probably because my folks were especially concerned that my siblings and I dressed nice and were on our best behavior. And we were, because we didn’t want our parents to turn the car around and take us home. The food was great, and there was lots of it. The place had two levels, and a lot of wood. I remember that the guy who played Salty Sam on afternoon television was the host. I thought that was just the neatest thing in the world. When I got older I realized it wasn’t an upward career move for him. They even had a GIFT SHOP, and we drove Mom and Dad nuts trying to get them to waste money on the junk in there.

Leonardo’s Pizza: Yeah, I had to mention this place, and I am speaking of the location at the corner of War Memorial Drive and Wisconsin. Leonardo’s was cool. Not only did it serve the best friggin’ pizza in Peoria, there was a tree in the middle of the poorly lit joint. And fake grapes hanging from the walls. More than one after-school function ended at Leo’s. And here’s a bit of local history for the record: One of their cooks was a friend of the family. And we would call to see if she was on duty before we ordered carry out, because she always loaded up our pizzas with extra ingredients.

Lums: To be truthful, Lums’ food never really moved me. Nothing wrong with it. It was … OK. The Ollie Burgers were tasty. But that’s it. What was cool about Lums — and I am speaking of the location on North Knoxville south of Nebraska — was that it was open all night, and it was a blast to watch the drunks and druggies. Another Lums’ claim to fame — it was one of the last sit-down, family eateries that hired union workers.

Pizza De-Lite: I’m not sure I’m spelling that name correctly. It was located on Abington Hill just north of Woodruff High School. Sometimes on a Friday night, Dad would call in a carry-out order and return with a huge pie, covered with wrapping paper. Dad and I would get mushrooms on our half. We ate it as we tried to stay awake to watch “Creature Feature” at midnight on WRAU (those used to be the call letters form Channel 19) To this very day, I compare carry out pizza to the wonderful taste of Pizza De-Lite. I don’t remember exactly when it closed. The store ended up moving to Sunnyland, breaking my heart.

Famous Recipe Fried Chicken: Chicken joints come and go here in Peoria. I fondly remember this one for one reason: Chicken BBQ sandwiches. Oh, sweet mama, these were good. Obviously homemade and smothered in a BBQ sauce that was distinctly different than the BBQ sauce that usually smothered chicken. There were two locations. The first was a sit-down joint located at the corner of West Nebraska and North Knoxville, in the same oft-remodeled building that now houses a second-rate Chinese take-out joint and one of those stupid title loan places. The other place was on Wisconsin and Forrest Hill, across the street from Von Steuben School. Once, feeling myself deprived of BBQ chicken for far too long, I gathered my allowance and walked from my house at the corner of Frye and Maryland to the Famous Recipe on Knoxville. I plopped down a handful of coins and ordered a sandwich and a water, knowing I would have to do without comic books that week.

Jimbo’s Jumbo: Oddly enough, I was a college graduate — actually several years out of college — before I tasted the best sandwich that Peoria has ever produced, the Italian Steak Sandwich from Jimbo’s. To this day, I regret those years in which I could have enjoyed the occasional Jimbo’s Jumbo, but never did. This place was located inside an impossibly tiny brick building at the corner of West Richmond and Knoxville. It was actually located in the tiny corner of the Burger King parking lot there. I used to stop there and stand at the counter and watch the cook/counter-person make these great sandwiches. In addition to the juiciest, most savory Italian beef, they made a meatball sandwich that they actually put on the grill, then covered with a tasty marinara sauce. They also has a great sausage sandwich. And they could make a half and half sandwich that combined multiple tastes. Jimbo’s abandoned Peoria, for reasons I never learned. I found myself in Pekin one day and passed a new Jimbo’s Jumbo while trying to make a quick getaway out of there. I literally made a U-turn and was late to my next appointment because I HAD to buy a combo. What a gross disappointment. It wasn’t fresh, it wasn’t juicy and it wasn’t spicy. Feh. Bland. Like everything else in Pekin. How fitting.

Pepe Taco’s: I grew up at this restaurant. This place had two locations, one on Western Avenue and the other on North University, a half-block south of Pioneer Parkway. Which one we ate at depended on exactly where one specific employee was working. They had the one manager, and it seemed like the location he wasn’t working at the time was the one with the worst service. Apparently, the owner kept moving the guy back and forth depending on the emergency. Anyway, the food was great. It was just standard Americanized Mexican Food, but very well made. Dad was fond of the chili, which was unlike chili you could get anywhere in Peoria. My brother Eric gorged on tacos. I usually ordered the combination plate. When the last Pepe Taco closed, he had a card in his pocket that would have given him a free taco if he had ordered just one more. He swears that he will one day find the last owner and make him give him that one free taco.

A&W Root Beer: This is the one and only true national chain restaurant on this list. I am adding it because it was the coolest thing, as a kid, to actually sit in the car and order your food. And then they brought it to you, served in this nifty silver-colored tray that hung onto your car window. I grew to love the chili dog with half chili and half onion. But I really, really loved the frosty mug of root beer. Back in the day, a fountain mug of A&W was a thick and foamy and delicious. Not at all like that stuff that’s posing as A&W in the plastic bottles at the grocery store. There were two of ‘em here in Peoria. One was located on North Prospect near East Tripp, I believe. The other was on Meadowbrook, just off of War Memorial Drive. The Prospect located seemed to employ cute girls from Woodruff High School, a deliberate hiring decision on the part of the boss, I think. Of course, the girls at the Meadowbrook were pretty neat, too. And this one was open year-round, and their walls opened up like a garage door during the summer months. Of course the corporate culture came along and destroyed little root beer stands like this.