Sigh. A lot of us are lamenting the closing yesterday of The Smokehouse Restaurant after its 60+ years.

I have sketchy memories of going there and Nikki’s Restaurant nearby with my dad, when barely in my teens. Early on, both were counter and booth places turning out savory short order breakfasts and burger fare lunches. I enjoyed such with my dad on Saturdays over there to run by his office closeby in the sprawling Farmers’ Market complex.

I’m not sure when they made the genius decisions to add the big dining rooms and serve all the fresh veggies from the FM for meat/fish and three lunches, along with steak and seafood dinners (the latter taken out by Covid).

Well, I’ve digressed to the distant past. Let’s get back to the more recent past. I have been going to those restaurants regularly since we moved back to Birmingham from Tuscaloosa in 1999.

My office as a UNITED Methodist District Superintendent was up the hill at Birmingham-Southern. Many meals were at Nikki’s or the Smokehouse: consultations with ministers, conversations with colleagues, along with tables reserved for ministerial groups, always interwoven with just meals now and then with good friends. A long list!

Okay. Now finally back to the recent future. For the last few years, there is still an occasional trip to Nikki’s. Yet repeatedly with many friends, I have settled in at the Smokehouse. Among those many great friend faces beloved former 27-year Birmingham-Southern College President Neal Berte’s face shines bright.

Here’s why…

Summary:

Smokehouse owner Theo Hontzas and the fried red snapper, along with the always delicious veggies, and for sure the friendly waitresses who always remembered my half and half iced tea with lemon.

Details:

One just accepts the hurried herding at Nikki’s. At the Smokehouse, Theo with his delightful Greek accented English chuckles: “Take your time, pea-ck what you want, this es’ not Nee-kki’s.” (His relatives of course, BTW)

Theo got my name when I went through the line with Neal Berte who is pretty much known by all. “Be-ill, you must be a good man because you are with a good man. In the old country, what they say is, you know a good man by his friends.”

Not sure why, and he probably did it with a lot of folks, Theo seemed to take a liking to me. Then with me and whoever was with me: “Be-ill, good to see you again. You are a good man.” Often, to whoever was with me, he would then say, “If you are with Be-ill, you must be a good man, too…. In the old country, what they say is….”

Now to the addictive fried snapper (grouper, too), time and again consistently delicious – crisp, light, tender – for which Theo reminded us he paid $15 a pound - I can’t remember having any better at the beach. Only Neal Berte likely loves the snapper at the Smokehouse more than me!

(BTW: Locally, the snapper at the Bright Star and the grouper special at the Cahaba Heights Pita Stop come close.)

And then there are all the numerous wonderful veggies: always hard for me to decide. In the last year or two, I settled in with the okra-tomato medley on my rice and field peas (not dried blackeye peas, please).

Won’t do it here. But I can tell you the sides Neal and my other pals get with their veggies. Cautioned in recent years to a Mediterranean diet by my cardiologist friend Dr. Towery, I generally resisted the great banana pudding, though best in town is at Miss Myra’s to me.

Okay. The present-present. Yesterday, my pal and for-real best food aficionado I know, Jim Shaw, Esq. had our closing last lunch at the Smokehouse.

When I asked Theo what he was going to do next, he retorted, “I’m 90-years old. What else? I’m going home to die!” I said, “But that’s later, not sooner, right?” “Oh yeah,” he chuckled.

As we dug into our snapper and chosen sides, Jim tapped the table with his palm… “This is just the best friend snapper I have ever had….”

The word was clearly out about the last lunch. A stream of people came in. Many rich in years, some on walkers, canes, slow walkers, helped by loved ones, obviously long-time customers coming with great effort for one more time.

For sure there were plenty across the age span types. A number were like the 35-ish man sitting across from us, going way beyond a meat and two or three. I counted six-serving bowls in addition to his meat and three plate. Banana pudding – I almost went back – in one of his bowls.

I am thankful for those who find a way to make a business preparing good food, well-priced, and winsomely served. My dad taught me to tip well those who bring food to your table, knowing it’s hard work, with plenty of grouches to put up with.

I was and am body and soul nourished by grandmothers to my wife, and other dear ones who show their love with food well prepared and tenderly served.

Much has been said and written about Jesus who embodied God’s inclusive love by all those he invited to his table…and promised a place at God’s forever table.

I am grateful for the likes of Theo who also multiplied the bread and fishes for countless hungry people.

Many of us, like at Canterbury, will celebrate the coming of the child again for the first time at this point in our lives at the Lord’s Table, tomorrow.

Bon Appetite…

*****

P.S. Reminder to Bill and others: Include the Central Alabama Food Bank or some sort in your year end and ongoing giving.