A "Royal" Portion of My Childhood...At Kings

I don't do the Chipotle's of the world. Not that there is anything wrong with those types of establishments, I was just raised differently. My parents liked to eat out. They didn't go to movies, bowl, or have card games. Going out to restaurants was their enjoyment, and when I came along it was something that they shared with me. They weren't big on fast food, but rather being served in a clean and pleasant atmosphere. Family restaurants were big then, and while Pittsburgh had its share of local, regional, and national chains, our standby was always Kings.

Kings has been back in the Pittsburgh news as of late, as founder Hartley King has finally found a buyer for the chain following a long search. A California firm is slated to take over the thirty-odd restaurants in the near future. The "Frownie Brownie" (a dessert designed to oppose rival chain Eat 'n Park's "Smiley Cookie") is said to be the first casualty following the takeover, with some menu changes and in-store remodeling to follow. Fortunately, my memories of Kings are from before the "Frownie" era of the restaurant chain.

When I was a toddler, my mother would walk us down to our local Kings Family Restaurant on nice afternoons. It wasn't very far from our townhouse, and at the time we were a one-car family. The staff all got to know me, and for the better part of fifteen years, I grew up in that building. As I aged, the waitresses would always comment that they recalled when I was being carried into the place. I was a well-behaved kid, though I do remember throwing a fit the evening that, shortly after recovering from some sort of childhood ailment, my mom would not let me order what I was craving. I also remember the night that the restaurant received a shipment of moldy hamburger buns. Screams and panic ensued as the management went to check on each table. The buns were slowly discovered and, aside from my own mother ingesting a portion of one, it became almost like a sitcom plot. I think that our meal was free that night. And for you wrestling fans, it was an early 1993 evening in that restaurant when my dad informed me that both Kerry Von Erich and Dino Bravo had recently passed away.

If anything, most Pittsburgers probably remember the old menus. Instead of a folding paper/plastic menu, all of your options were on the placemat in front of you. Kids received a separate placemat featuring all of the kiddie choices. Admittedly, I got to know the grown-up meals a lot earlier than most kids. I was a growing boy!

But if the food wasn't good, I wouldn't have many memories to begin with. Fried clams, a breakfast sandwich known as the "Eggel Bagel," chicken burgers, and of course their legendary soups were some of my favorites. Even my grandmother, a recluse by the time that I was born, once commented to me how good the soups were at Kings. How did she know?

By the mid-'90s, we had noticed that the quality of the chain had dipped. We weren't the only ones. Our favorite staff members started to depart, and my family began going to a local family-owned restaurant over the formerly dependable chain. Although my parents continued to go for breakfast, I could probably count on one hand how many times I went back from roughly 1998-2008.

Once again living very close to that location that I "grew up in," I still stop in for a bite. It's nothing fancy, but that's never what I've looked for in a restaurant. I was raised to appreciate good service and quality. In the past year or so, some menu additions for the chain have struck me as odd. "Artisan" sandwiches have been a main feature, with the famous aforementioned "Eggel Bagel" being wiped off the menu. It's my hope that the new ownership realizes what the clientele, families and senior citizens by-and-large, want what they are familiar with. Solid, traditional, homestyle foods. Comfort food. Not..."just exactly what is this?" food.

My family enjoyed other establishments such as Pappan's and Eat 'n Park, as well as national names like Denny's and Bob Evans, but we always came back to Kings. Apple pie and cinnamon ice cream? A Kings staple and an occasional treat for me, but I'd rather have another bowl of beef vegetable soup...

This Is Your Social Hour.

Yes, the blond, large-headed child waving with the straw in his hand is me.  Despite that picture being twenty-five years old, I can still remember the exact moment, exactly what I was thinking, and yes, even what I was eating.

Beginning in kindergarten, if you purchased the school photos from that year you received a yearbook. At least I think that's how it worked. I don't think it was an add-on.  Perhaps everyone was given one regardless, as I doubt every parent purchased the photos.  After all, we weren't the richest school district. I loved looking at my parents old yearbooks as far back as I can remember, so naturally one that included me was extra cool.

Something that gnawed at me were those "candid" photos in the back of the book.  They were seemingly random photos affixed with captions that probably came out of a "Yearbook Photo Witty Captions" book. As much as I loved them, I wanted to BE in one of them.  The kindergarten yearbook wasn't a disappointment as I had no clue that they existed until then. The first grade yearbook was a different story. Young Josh KNEW that he should have made it into one of those photos. If I recall, one photo where I was just out of the frame made it that year.

That brings us to 1990.  Second grade photo day. I knew how adorable I looked in my Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles shirt and blond mop of hair. I knew that the bespectacled photographer was making the rounds. Only one thing could catch me off-guard and make me forget about my ever-growing quest to make the back pages: spaghetti day.

Most kids complain about school lunches. These days, those complaints are likely warranted. But from 1st thru 6th grade, I loved the elementary school lunches. The food was good, you could buy extra, and the spaghetti with meat sauce was out-of-this-world. It wasn't overly wet or dry, but had a nice thick consistency. With your meal you had to take some sort of milk, so the first portion went down nicely with that. Once you purchased extras, all bets were off. Two extra bowls and two Turner's orange drinks was the answer to my grade-school gluttony. But on that photo day, I was just sitting down to the lunch portion when my dream came true.

As I was unwrapping my straw to plunge into the carton of milk, I saw him out of the corner of my eye. The photographer. He's actually in the Holiday Park Elementary School cafeteria. He's probably going to snap a photo of the kitchen. Wait. He's turning towards our aisle. He's kneeling down. He's raising the camera! I'm getting in this!

Flash!

And there it was. I'd made it. Although I'm sure that I repeated the tale that night at home, I forgot about it for a few months until the yearbook came out. When it did, I can remember my mom reporting that other parents that she knew loved my energetic cameo. I did, too.

I have no clue what school is like today. I just wonder if any kid would even care about such a thing anymore. I can look into that photo and remember the actions and even quirks of many of those kids. Have you ever seen a school cafeteria scene on "The Simpsons?" Those segments always remind me of those days. We had our own versions of Bart, Milhouse, Lisa, Nelson, Ralph, Sherri, and Terri. Who was I? I think I had a little bit of all of them in me. For this particular photo, though, I think I created my own character. His name?

Ham.

A Trip to Abdullah's "House"...

Wrestling.  I knew that it would creep into this blog sooner or later.  Of course, it's been in the banner since day one.  I always thought that this would be a good place for wrestling tales that just didn't fit in with wrestling memorabilia (my other blog), since people are always asking that those stories be told.

The first "Josh Culture" wrestling tale takes us back to the summer of 2011.  My friend Brian and I were headed to (Badstreet) Atlanta, GA for the NWA Legends Fanfest.  Always looking for unique places to chow down, a certain fabled establishment found its place onto our itinerary early on: Abdullah the Butcher's House of Ribs & Chinese Food. For those of you wondering what an "Abdullah the Butcher" is, I'll provide a brief synopsis.  Abdullah is a notorious wrestling heel ("bad guy"), who, for over fifty years now, has terrorized wrestling fans around the world with his girth, scars, and trademark fork.

Despite the entertaining (and legendary) wrestling persona, the man behind the character has become notorious for being rather shady and difficult to work with.  My first experience with The Butcher was around six years earlier at a local wrestling show.  While Abdullah may have had one of his last good brawling "matches" (blood, weapons, and even an in-ring elbow drop) at that particular show, many fans were less than satisfied with the aging star's attitude toward fans and his annoying, portly "handler" who took the money and dished out nothing more than southern-fried lip.

By 2011 I'd had several experiences with Abdullah, mostly good, so I was ready to taste his cuisine. Brian and I arrived to the Peach State early, so we killed a few hours before having lunch at the famed establishment. As the name suggests, Abdullah's serves both barbecue and Chinese food.  Despite being a fervent lover of the latter, I rarely order Chinese food outside of my own local favorite haunt, so I opted for barbecue.  My container included ribs, chicken, macaroni and cheese, collard greens, and cornbread.  A good, no-nonsense, soul food meal.

The building itself was older and filled with autographed wrestling photos, clippings, and other memorabilia.  Abdullah himself was not there at the time, which was no big deal considering that we had met him several times previously. Despite the establishment supposedly being in a "bad part of town," we decided to try and return for dinner one night over the weekend.

Showing his difficulty and defiance, Abdullah showed up in the lobby of the Fanfest host hotel selling autographs and photos.  The legend likely would've been an invited part of the event had he not upset the promoters with his actions at Fanfest several years earlier.  Though I did not see it with my own eyes, reports say that Terry Funk himself had to escort The Butcher off of the premises.

We did end up making time to return to the restaurant that Saturday night, and this time Abdullah was playing host to fellow legend Ivan Koloff.  Although we sat and ate our meals without bothering anyone, the aforementioned portly and annoying handler kept letting us know that Abdullah would "take care" of us when he was finished with Ivan.  Used to being treated as a guest in restaurants, I figured that a photo wouldn't be out of the question.  I have a photo with The Butcher "forking" me, but one with the owner inside his restaurant might have been fun.

But not "make Abdullah extra money" fun.

When it came time for Abdullah to "take care of us," it became fast apparent that the care would cost. When I simply said that I had no cash and turned to walk away, the annoying and portly handler cheerily yelled out that they accepted credit cards.  After it sunk into the obese brawler's scarred head that he would be getting zero additional dollars from us, we were dismissed with a "Good evening, gentlemen."  I have no problem paying for an autograph or photo at a convention.  They aren't doing those shows out of the goodness of their heart.  But at your restaurant that I've just patronized twice?  Please.

Larry Shreeve, the individual who portrays Abdullah, will die a bitter, penny-pinching man.  But just like actors or musicians who hold different views and beliefs than I do, I can appreciate the body of work just the same.  Abdullah the Butcher?  Amusing and terrifying to no end in over fifty years of wrestling.  Larry Shreeve?  Delusional lump of suet.

I've heard stories since of Abdullah happily posing for free photos in his restaurant since, but it doesn't bother me.  I just think back to a few years before the restaurant incident, and a little girl, roughly seven years old. Abdullah was sitting at his gimmick (photo/merchandise) table at a wrestling show where each legend was supposed to give one autograph for free.  Fearlessly, she took her poster up to Abdullah who refused to sign it unless she gave him five dollars.  In one twist of her tiny frame, she angrily whisked the poster away...sending Abdullah's sale items crashing to the floor.

I guess ol' Abby finally met his match.