"What's on the plate? It's so dark in here after the lights went off. I can't find the shrimp. Even with this flashlight, it's a guessing game as to what's going in my mouth - even my tongue won't tell me- like the time I was ratting for the Silver Skaters in high school and had to eat spaghetti blindfolded, being told it was worms. Ugh! The last bite seemed to wriggle like some sort of juicy critter, trying to escape the jaws of death!

Gads! There's that overhead pounding again! Why couldn't the owners arrange to have a midnight crew of carpenters come to work on the new dining area upstairs when the dinner hours were over? But then, the big-spending drinkers at the bar might complain, if they weren't too stewed to notice or slap-happy, like those two, gloating idiots at the bar who keep chuckling and looking this way. No wonder Pat, the waitress, is ready to throw in the towel - putting up with this noise all day and having only one customer tonight, eating with a flashlight. It was cute the way she went looking for a candle so I could dine by candlelight.

All I really wanted, was a quiet, peaceful meal tonight, here in my favorite Hollywood haunt where I've dined for so many years, a home away from home, where I can unload my thoughts on the waitresses, read, write, eat, even correct my students' papers after a long day's work and take my time doing it. But tonight I won't be reading or writing - just playing a guessing game of "What's on the Plate?" Might as well be blind and spoon-fed.

How often I used to sit here at this booth in the back of the caboose, sipping my dry martini, correcting papers, waiting for my favorite #1 Special.

I dearly miss Lem, the owner, who used to sit in that booth near the cash register, greeting me as I came in, asking, "Hi, Mary, how's school?" He would often check the kitchen and wander about exchanging amenities with the customers, always working to build a better mousetrap. In the earlier years, he reminded me of a happy Buddha, his body taking up the whole booth, It was later, after dieting, that he turned so slim and trim that I hardly recognized him.

Then, there was Lindy, the bartender, mixer of very good drinks. So strong was my occasional martini, that I always ordered a large glass of ice on the side so I could nurse it along and not feel tipsy when I left. "Nothing like getting three for the price of one," I used to tell him. Sometimes for his break or time off for an early dinner, he would sit in the booth across from me and tell interesting stories about some of the V.I.P's or celebrities who worked at Warner's Studio just across the street. Many frequented the bar in the late night and early morning hours. He and the waitresses could tell fascinating stories about the stars whose autographed pictures lined the walls. Smiling down on me in my booth are Esther Williams, Clark Gable and Betty Grable but it's so dark in here right now that I can't see their features.

The aisle between the booths is so narrow that you can easily hold a conversation with someone seated directly across from you, as many often do when so inclined. Holding an open conversation with a stranger can be fun if you're in the mood. I was always in the mood to talk to Lindy. He was writing a book titled "Fifty Years Behind Bars" but he passed away before getting a chance to finish it.

I remember the words of my mother about social conduct: "Go wherever you want to go but go in a lady and come out a lady." Good advice for someone like me who likes to go walking into a dragon's den. How many delicious meals, relaxed hours and happy times I have found here.

There goes that POUNDING again! The old Formosa is undergoing quite a facelift. Things are getting a bit hectic for everyone - even the parking lot is getting tight. Even with valet parking after 6:00 p.m. when the lot and streets are jammed, valets park illegally and cars can be ticketed. The ticket is sent to you in the mail and you wonder where in the hell you got it.

Just as my brain is beginning to mellow with nostalgia, now it's starting to bang in rhythm with the sounds of the hammer while I jump to an uneven tempo with it. What a unique and adventurous dining experience this has been. My favorite Hollywood haunt, the Formosa Café, has left such an impact on my brain, that she will never be forgotten.

Copyright © 2003 Mary L. Ports