Your author, just before the move to Oregon
I’ve been writing about growing up in a Mexican restaurant for the past few weeks. It occurred to me that I should have started at the beginning. How did we get into the business anyway?
When Mama and Papa moved back to Southern California from San Juan Island in Washington State, Mama went to work at a Mexican restaurant called La Fonda in Santa Ana. She worked at La Fonda for twelve years. During that time, she developed a bug to own her own restaurant.
Francis and Nicki, the owners, took to Mama, as everyone does. They showed her the ropes of running a restaurant. Before we moved to Oregon, Papa went to work for Francis for six months, for free, to learn how to cook Mexican food. The food Francis served was much more sophisticated than the food Grandma taught Mama to cook in their little house in Costa Mesa. There are also different techniques and equipment used when cooking large volumes in a restaurant than those used cooking in a home kitchen.
We moved to Oregon in 1961 with the express purpose of opening a Mexican restaurant. Oregon was virgin territory, Papa reasoned. There would be no competition. At the time we opened our first restaurant, Del Norte, there were three other Mexican restaurants that we knew about in the northwest, Panchos in Seattle, Morenos in Eugene and one in Portland. (To read a more detailed account of these incidents, read Blue Water & Me, Tall Tales of Adventures With My Father.)
At the time, Mexican food was not widely known or accepted in Oregon. Most customers complained, before they ate the first bite, that “Mexican food is too hot.” I remember people ordering “tay-cohs” (tacos), because the language was so unfamiliar to them. In the early years, we sold more hamburgers and BLTs than we sold tacos and enchiladas. Chile rellenos were considered extremely exotic fare. I watched Mama almost singlehandedly built a market for Mexican food in Oregon.
“I don’t like Mexican food,” customers complained. This happened most often when a group came into the restaurant because one or two people were craving Mexican food and the rest of the group were unfamiliar with it.
“I’ll make you a deal," Mama said to them. "Let me order for you, if you don’t like it, I’ll order a steak for you and let you have it for free.” No one could resist the lure of a free steak, so they let Mama order for them. I don’t remember ever having to cook a free steak.
Del Norte, our first restaurant, was not a rousing success. We lived in Springfield at the time, next door to Frank and Hank’s tavern. Frank and Hank’s was in a large, old Quonset-hut type of building on the McKenzie Highway east of town. There was a little mom and pop diner in the same building as the tavern. When I was in the fifth grade, the owner of the diner died and Frank and Hank went looking for a new tenant. They wanted a restaurant in the building so their tavern customers could order food. If there was food to eat, the customers would hang around the tavern longer, drinking beer.
Papa made a sweet deal with the widow of the diner owner. He bought all the furniture, fixtures and equipment, negotiated a ridiculous lease with Frank and Hank and Del Norte was born. We put a couple of serapes and sombreros on the walls, a metate in the window and opened the doors.
When Mama and Papa moved back to Southern California from San Juan Island in Washington State, Mama went to work at a Mexican restaurant called La Fonda in Santa Ana. She worked at La Fonda for twelve years. During that time, she developed a bug to own her own restaurant.
Francis and Nicki, the owners, took to Mama, as everyone does. They showed her the ropes of running a restaurant. Before we moved to Oregon, Papa went to work for Francis for six months, for free, to learn how to cook Mexican food. The food Francis served was much more sophisticated than the food Grandma taught Mama to cook in their little house in Costa Mesa. There are also different techniques and equipment used when cooking large volumes in a restaurant than those used cooking in a home kitchen.
We moved to Oregon in 1961 with the express purpose of opening a Mexican restaurant. Oregon was virgin territory, Papa reasoned. There would be no competition. At the time we opened our first restaurant, Del Norte, there were three other Mexican restaurants that we knew about in the northwest, Panchos in Seattle, Morenos in Eugene and one in Portland. (To read a more detailed account of these incidents, read Blue Water & Me, Tall Tales of Adventures With My Father.)
At the time, Mexican food was not widely known or accepted in Oregon. Most customers complained, before they ate the first bite, that “Mexican food is too hot.” I remember people ordering “tay-cohs” (tacos), because the language was so unfamiliar to them. In the early years, we sold more hamburgers and BLTs than we sold tacos and enchiladas. Chile rellenos were considered extremely exotic fare. I watched Mama almost singlehandedly built a market for Mexican food in Oregon.
“I don’t like Mexican food,” customers complained. This happened most often when a group came into the restaurant because one or two people were craving Mexican food and the rest of the group were unfamiliar with it.
“I’ll make you a deal," Mama said to them. "Let me order for you, if you don’t like it, I’ll order a steak for you and let you have it for free.” No one could resist the lure of a free steak, so they let Mama order for them. I don’t remember ever having to cook a free steak.
Del Norte, our first restaurant, was not a rousing success. We lived in Springfield at the time, next door to Frank and Hank’s tavern. Frank and Hank’s was in a large, old Quonset-hut type of building on the McKenzie Highway east of town. There was a little mom and pop diner in the same building as the tavern. When I was in the fifth grade, the owner of the diner died and Frank and Hank went looking for a new tenant. They wanted a restaurant in the building so their tavern customers could order food. If there was food to eat, the customers would hang around the tavern longer, drinking beer.
Papa made a sweet deal with the widow of the diner owner. He bought all the furniture, fixtures and equipment, negotiated a ridiculous lease with Frank and Hank and Del Norte was born. We put a couple of serapes and sombreros on the walls, a metate in the window and opened the doors.
The metate in our window
When we moved from California, it was with the express intent of opening a Mexican restaurant. To that end, Papa bought a tortilla machine from the J. C. Ford Manufacturing Company and we trucked it to Oregon with us. Papa refinished the garage at our new house in Springfield and installed the tortilla machine.
We couldn’t have a Mexican restaurant without fresh tortillas. At the time, the only Mexican food available in Oregon was canned tortillas and tamales. There wasn’t even any frozen Mexican food in the stores. Papa had to make a special deal with our wholesale grocer to get them to “import” pinto beans and canned green chiles. It took several years to find a source for a good chili powder.
Del Norte limped along for several months, then there was a gang fight at the tavern next door. A motorcycle gang got into a fight with the loggers that regularly habituated the tavern and the fight spilled over into our restaurant. Furniture and windows were broken. That was it, Papa said, “I’m not going to raise my children in that environment,” and told the landlord that he was breaking the lease. We shut down the restaurant.
A couple of years later, opportunity again presented itself. Mama was waitressing at a little restaurant on the edge of the University of Oregon campus for a man named Mr. Spiller. Across Thirteenth Avenue was Tommy’s Inn. Tommy and Mr. Spiller were bitter rivals. Mr. Spiller always ran across the street when it was slow to see if Tommy had customers or to see what kind of specials Tommy had that day.
Mama came home with news that Tommy dropped over dead in his restaurant. The doors were locked because his widow had no expertise at running a restaurant. Papa seized the opportunity. He called the landlord and negotiated taking over Tommy’s lease. Then he called the widow and bought Tommy’s furniture, fixtures and equipment. Thus, El Sombrero was born.
When we owned Del Norte, Papa commissioned a sign company to make a giant plywood sombrero for him to use as our sign. When Del Norte closed, Papa took the sign down and stored it in our garage. As we were getting ready to open the new restaurant, Papa took the sign out and had it repainted. We needed a name for the new restaurant and Mama and Papa reasoned that since our sign was a giant sombrero, we should name the restaurant “El Sombrero.”
In the real estate business, there are three rules: Location, Location and Location. Mama and Papa hit the jackpot. Many of the University’s students and faculty were from California. They came to Oregon and were doomed to four years of undergraduate work without Mexican food. As soon as we opened the doors, there was a line to get a table.
Lunch time was particularly busy because the entire campus had one hour to find a place to grab a bite before returning to classes. By eleven thirty in the morning we were packed and stayed that way until one thirty in the afternoon. In those days, we were selling a lunch plate for ninety-nine cents.
Dinner was a more leisurely affair. Customer started drifting in around five in the afternoon and by six thirty or seven we were in full swing of the dinner rush. Dinners started at a buck forty-nine.
We ran El Sombrero for five years on the campus until our lease expired. The landlord wanted to tear our building down and put up a new building, so we had to move.
We moved El Sombrero to a location on Eleventh Avenue in downtown Eugene. After five years of successful operation, we took our loyal following with us and were equally as busy in the downtown location. By this time, Papa had mostly dropped out of the restaurant and was tending his real estate business. He still went in every morning to set up and make the soup, but was gone by the time the lunch rush hit. Mama and I were running the restaurant pretty much by ourselves.
We couldn’t have a Mexican restaurant without fresh tortillas. At the time, the only Mexican food available in Oregon was canned tortillas and tamales. There wasn’t even any frozen Mexican food in the stores. Papa had to make a special deal with our wholesale grocer to get them to “import” pinto beans and canned green chiles. It took several years to find a source for a good chili powder.
Del Norte limped along for several months, then there was a gang fight at the tavern next door. A motorcycle gang got into a fight with the loggers that regularly habituated the tavern and the fight spilled over into our restaurant. Furniture and windows were broken. That was it, Papa said, “I’m not going to raise my children in that environment,” and told the landlord that he was breaking the lease. We shut down the restaurant.
A couple of years later, opportunity again presented itself. Mama was waitressing at a little restaurant on the edge of the University of Oregon campus for a man named Mr. Spiller. Across Thirteenth Avenue was Tommy’s Inn. Tommy and Mr. Spiller were bitter rivals. Mr. Spiller always ran across the street when it was slow to see if Tommy had customers or to see what kind of specials Tommy had that day.
Mama came home with news that Tommy dropped over dead in his restaurant. The doors were locked because his widow had no expertise at running a restaurant. Papa seized the opportunity. He called the landlord and negotiated taking over Tommy’s lease. Then he called the widow and bought Tommy’s furniture, fixtures and equipment. Thus, El Sombrero was born.
When we owned Del Norte, Papa commissioned a sign company to make a giant plywood sombrero for him to use as our sign. When Del Norte closed, Papa took the sign down and stored it in our garage. As we were getting ready to open the new restaurant, Papa took the sign out and had it repainted. We needed a name for the new restaurant and Mama and Papa reasoned that since our sign was a giant sombrero, we should name the restaurant “El Sombrero.”
In the real estate business, there are three rules: Location, Location and Location. Mama and Papa hit the jackpot. Many of the University’s students and faculty were from California. They came to Oregon and were doomed to four years of undergraduate work without Mexican food. As soon as we opened the doors, there was a line to get a table.
Lunch time was particularly busy because the entire campus had one hour to find a place to grab a bite before returning to classes. By eleven thirty in the morning we were packed and stayed that way until one thirty in the afternoon. In those days, we were selling a lunch plate for ninety-nine cents.
Dinner was a more leisurely affair. Customer started drifting in around five in the afternoon and by six thirty or seven we were in full swing of the dinner rush. Dinners started at a buck forty-nine.
We ran El Sombrero for five years on the campus until our lease expired. The landlord wanted to tear our building down and put up a new building, so we had to move.
We moved El Sombrero to a location on Eleventh Avenue in downtown Eugene. After five years of successful operation, we took our loyal following with us and were equally as busy in the downtown location. By this time, Papa had mostly dropped out of the restaurant and was tending his real estate business. He still went in every morning to set up and make the soup, but was gone by the time the lunch rush hit. Mama and I were running the restaurant pretty much by ourselves.
The monster in our garage
This was when I became the “kitchen tyrant.” I got the nickname because, at eighteen years old I was very full of myself and thought I knew everything. (It’s amazing that the older we get, the dumber we get.) Mama ran the day shift and I ran the night shift. The power went to my head. I told everybody what to do and how to do it. I don’t know how they stood working for me. I was telling employees twice my age who had been doing the job since before I was born how to do their jobs.
Papa tired of the restaurant business, he always needed a new challenge every couple of years, and Mama got tired of running the restaurant by herself. They sold El Sombrero to a nice Mexican family and moved on.
They didn’t move very far or very fast. The food court at the Valley River Center, Eugene’s first shopping mall, just outside of town on the Willamette River, lost a tenant. The manager of the food court called Mama and asked her if she would like to put a Mexican restaurant in the food court. The Olé Mexican Restaurant was born.
We were employees of the food court company who was the tenant of Valley River Center, but they pretty much left us alone to run the restaurant. It was buffet style and we cooked trays of enchiladas, tamales and chile rellenos and kept them in hotel pans on a steam line. This was no way to serve Mexican food and quality suffered.
We were at the Olé Mexican Restaurant for a couple of years then the food court company decided that they wanted to remodel and put in an up-scale English-style pub. Mama retired again and I was looking for a job.
About this time I had had enough of college and dropped out. I worked for a short time for a family friend at his fast food restaurant when opportunity came knocking again. A family twenty-four-hour restaurant on Franklin Boulevard, the main drag into town from the south, had gone broke. The parent company folded and the landlord was looking for someone to pick up their lease. We stepped in and opened La Posada Mexican Restaurant.
This was a big upgrade for us, being in a large free-standing building on a busy highway. Papa and I redid the building to look like an inn along the El Camino Real in Mexico or California. We stuccoed the exterior and built a series of arches around the outside of the building. Papa installed vegas, the round ends of the rafters that stick out over the side of the building, to give it a more authentic touch. As a crowing touch, Papa built a brightly painted ox-cart to sit in our parking lot under the sign.
La Posada was a huge success. We easily did three, four and sometimes five times as much business as we had at El Sombrero. Mama and Papa built the restaurant for me, but I’m embarrassed to say that I have a very short attention span. Like Papa, I can’t seem to keep interested in one thing for very long. I soon decided that I needed to go back and finish college. I took less and less interest in the restaurant and after I graduated from college, Mama and Papa sold the restaurant and retired again.
My college major was in history, with special emphasis in Latin American Studies. This qualified me to work in restaurants. After college, I got a job working for a regional restaurant chain headquartered in Salem, Oregon. I got restless living in Eugene and put in for a transfer to the Seattle area.
They moved me to Seattle where I met and married Connie. As I said before, I have a short attention span, and when I didn’t get quickly promoted to district manager I lost interest in the corporate world and decided to open my own Mexican restaurant.
I found a location near the King Dome in south Seattle and opened El Mercado Mexican Restaurant. Mama and Papa, bless their hearts, moved to Seattle to help me get started. El Mercado did a great lunch business but little dinner business. We were in an area of town where nobody lived. When there were events at the King Dome, like baseball, football or basketball games, we were busy. When there was nothing going on, we were dead. We didn’t get rich but we did make a living and achieve critical acclaim. In 1981 The Seattle Weekly named us the best Mexican restaurant in Seattle.
At El Mercado, I let my creativity run wild. We experimented with all kinds of new dishes and took a couple of trips to Mexico to research the cuisine. I made a study of Mexican food and like to say I earned my Masters of Mexican Cuisine degree there. However, I again grew restless and sold the restaurant.
Meanwhile, in Eugene, Mama and Papa got bit by the bug again. They open Casa Don Carlos in a little building that had once been a house in North Eugene. Casa Don Carlos had a nice, homey feel and they did well, but it was mostly a hobby for Mama. At this time, my brother Jim got involved in the business for a short while until he decided that he didn’t want to be a restaurateur. Once again, when Jim lost interest, Mama and Papa decided to retire.
Mama wasn’t very good at retirement. It wasn’t long before she was opening the Tortilla Flats restaurant in the Fifth Avenue Market in Eugene. The Market was a collection of hippy/New Age type shops and restaurants in an old cannery building close to the river. As usual, people flocked to Mama’s restaurant. This was mostly a hobby for Mama because she didn’t want to work too hard. Finally, Papa’s health was failing and Mama decided to retire for good and tend to Papa full time.
And now, you know the rest of the story. I can get back to telling you stories of the crazy things that happened to me growing up.
Papa tired of the restaurant business, he always needed a new challenge every couple of years, and Mama got tired of running the restaurant by herself. They sold El Sombrero to a nice Mexican family and moved on.
They didn’t move very far or very fast. The food court at the Valley River Center, Eugene’s first shopping mall, just outside of town on the Willamette River, lost a tenant. The manager of the food court called Mama and asked her if she would like to put a Mexican restaurant in the food court. The Olé Mexican Restaurant was born.
We were employees of the food court company who was the tenant of Valley River Center, but they pretty much left us alone to run the restaurant. It was buffet style and we cooked trays of enchiladas, tamales and chile rellenos and kept them in hotel pans on a steam line. This was no way to serve Mexican food and quality suffered.
We were at the Olé Mexican Restaurant for a couple of years then the food court company decided that they wanted to remodel and put in an up-scale English-style pub. Mama retired again and I was looking for a job.
About this time I had had enough of college and dropped out. I worked for a short time for a family friend at his fast food restaurant when opportunity came knocking again. A family twenty-four-hour restaurant on Franklin Boulevard, the main drag into town from the south, had gone broke. The parent company folded and the landlord was looking for someone to pick up their lease. We stepped in and opened La Posada Mexican Restaurant.
This was a big upgrade for us, being in a large free-standing building on a busy highway. Papa and I redid the building to look like an inn along the El Camino Real in Mexico or California. We stuccoed the exterior and built a series of arches around the outside of the building. Papa installed vegas, the round ends of the rafters that stick out over the side of the building, to give it a more authentic touch. As a crowing touch, Papa built a brightly painted ox-cart to sit in our parking lot under the sign.
La Posada was a huge success. We easily did three, four and sometimes five times as much business as we had at El Sombrero. Mama and Papa built the restaurant for me, but I’m embarrassed to say that I have a very short attention span. Like Papa, I can’t seem to keep interested in one thing for very long. I soon decided that I needed to go back and finish college. I took less and less interest in the restaurant and after I graduated from college, Mama and Papa sold the restaurant and retired again.
My college major was in history, with special emphasis in Latin American Studies. This qualified me to work in restaurants. After college, I got a job working for a regional restaurant chain headquartered in Salem, Oregon. I got restless living in Eugene and put in for a transfer to the Seattle area.
They moved me to Seattle where I met and married Connie. As I said before, I have a short attention span, and when I didn’t get quickly promoted to district manager I lost interest in the corporate world and decided to open my own Mexican restaurant.
I found a location near the King Dome in south Seattle and opened El Mercado Mexican Restaurant. Mama and Papa, bless their hearts, moved to Seattle to help me get started. El Mercado did a great lunch business but little dinner business. We were in an area of town where nobody lived. When there were events at the King Dome, like baseball, football or basketball games, we were busy. When there was nothing going on, we were dead. We didn’t get rich but we did make a living and achieve critical acclaim. In 1981 The Seattle Weekly named us the best Mexican restaurant in Seattle.
At El Mercado, I let my creativity run wild. We experimented with all kinds of new dishes and took a couple of trips to Mexico to research the cuisine. I made a study of Mexican food and like to say I earned my Masters of Mexican Cuisine degree there. However, I again grew restless and sold the restaurant.
Meanwhile, in Eugene, Mama and Papa got bit by the bug again. They open Casa Don Carlos in a little building that had once been a house in North Eugene. Casa Don Carlos had a nice, homey feel and they did well, but it was mostly a hobby for Mama. At this time, my brother Jim got involved in the business for a short while until he decided that he didn’t want to be a restaurateur. Once again, when Jim lost interest, Mama and Papa decided to retire.
Mama wasn’t very good at retirement. It wasn’t long before she was opening the Tortilla Flats restaurant in the Fifth Avenue Market in Eugene. The Market was a collection of hippy/New Age type shops and restaurants in an old cannery building close to the river. As usual, people flocked to Mama’s restaurant. This was mostly a hobby for Mama because she didn’t want to work too hard. Finally, Papa’s health was failing and Mama decided to retire for good and tend to Papa full time.
And now, you know the rest of the story. I can get back to telling you stories of the crazy things that happened to me growing up.
After all, the restaurant was named El Sombrero
Poll Time. Are you enjoying these glimpses into my past? Do you want me to continue with more Growing Up in a Mexican Restaurant stories?
Here's a big question. I've been telling you that I'm the world's best Mexican chef. Would you like me to share some recipes with you?
I treasure your input. Click the "Contact Penn" button and let me know where you want me to go with this.
As long as we're talking business, it wouldn't hurt for you to download a book or two. I can only provide these articles because my writing business allows me the time to write. If I don't sell books, I might not have time to keep bringing you these stories. Click on the "Penn's Books" tab to see my books.
Here's a big question. I've been telling you that I'm the world's best Mexican chef. Would you like me to share some recipes with you?
I treasure your input. Click the "Contact Penn" button and let me know where you want me to go with this.
As long as we're talking business, it wouldn't hurt for you to download a book or two. I can only provide these articles because my writing business allows me the time to write. If I don't sell books, I might not have time to keep bringing you these stories. Click on the "Penn's Books" tab to see my books.
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