When I die I want to eat at Morrisons Cafeteria in Heaven when I get hungry. If Heaven is a place of perfect happiness, then I'll eat at Morrison's again.
My earliest memory of Morrison's was from the bragging tales of my Atmore cousin. She told me about catching the Greyhound bus to ride to Mobile, do some shopping and eat lunch at Morrison's Cafeteria with prissy (my 10 year old opinion) privileged girlfriends.
Morrison's Cafeteria opened at Mobile in 1920. I became aware of this wonderful place to dine and die for, circa 1950. I was about ten years old and could not imagine a place like that. Cousin Betty was in her early teens and finally got permission to ride the Greyhound bus round trip from Atmore with a group of girlfriends to shop in Mobile. She said they would stroll up and down Government Street, up and down side streets looking in shop windows at things they couldn't afford to buy. They spent some coins in Woolworth's on hair barrettes, dangle bracelets, Archie comic books and tubes of Tangee lipstick. They all held back $2.00 to guarantee they had enough to eat and tip at Morrison's Cafeteria.
Cousin Betty had my attention.
" Morrison's Cafeteria, Huh"!
Never wanting to show my country side I ask if she ate, "Fillet Miggen"?
Not being one to miss an opportunity to use a fancy sounding word, I used it. I may not aways pronounce a word correctly but I will say it how I see it. Filet Mignon--" Fillet Miggen".
I once jumped out of my seat to give my eighth grade teacher the word she was trying for. The word was detergent, I excidely hollered out, "Detter Gent".
Miss Lena C. English seemed a bit moved by my effort.
Cousin Betty answered with,
" Oh, I ate fried chicken and choconut cream pie, I don't like " Fillett Miggen".
Cousin Betty was as much of a bluff as I was.
I had heard someone from the more informed upper class brag about how tender that cut of meat was.
I filed the word away until I could use it.
Years later we laughed about " Filet Mignon".
I had eaten at the Greyhound bus station in Flomaton with my Daddy after hauling a load of cucumbers to the train shed. That was my first time to eat in a public place.
We sat on stools at the counter to eat while the bustle of Greyhound passengers mixed with loud laughing waitresses clattering heavy crock dishes.
The Seeburg jukebox swallowed coins to give us Hank singing his broken hearted,
"I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry".
I experienced sensory overload. I learned the meaning of that term way later in life.
The noise, the music, the lights and the feeling of those folks heading to points unknown filled my head with thoughts of big city life.
Chicago was at the end of Highway 31. Uncle Rudy Smith had unknowingly handed me that tidbit of information. I had the idea filed away for when the day came that I would run away from home.
I could walk or thumb my way to Chicago...............from Flomaton without getting lost.
Stay on Highway 31 north.......Forward Ho!
We ate hamburgers that were still sizzling around the edges.
I remember the smell of onions, hot grease and diesel fumes.
So cousin Betty bragged and I waited.
TIMEHOP!
Spring of 1956 our ninth grade civics class took a trip up to Montgomery to tour the State Capital. We were planning to see the place that determined how the world turned in Alabama.
The rotunda was loud with sounds of our shuffling, made me dizzy looking up into that winding staircase to see the impressive paintings up there.
Noon time found us having lunch at,
MORRISON'S CAFETERIA.
I couldn't breathe. I had never seen so many wonderful choices of food to eat. Even dinner on the grounds of churches around Barnett Crossroads never offered some of these foods. Don't misunderstand me here, homecomings and Easter and revival dinners on the ground was as close as I had ever been to food Heaven, but Morrison's Cafeteria in Montgomery Alabama in 1956 was my first preview of food Heaven.
I forgot to pay attention to all the hustle and bustle of the judicial crowds around us. I focused on long settings of salads and desserts and fruit cups and then those steam tables with containers of hot vegetables and meats and sauces and breads of sorts I never knew existed.
After a moment of brain fog caused by sensory overload ( that term again) I chose a meat I had read about but had never seen or tasted,
VEAL CUTLET.
That delicious piece of meat was awash in the most wonderful tasting tomato sauce that ever crossed my lips.
I was well fed and introduced to fine dining.
I told my family about it.........many times.
I was slowly becoming sophiscated in the better side of life.
I looked in magazines for dishes that showed things Mama didn't know about.
Southern Living Magazine showed Baked Alaska.
I didn't believe it.
TIMEHOP!
1959 I hired on to make nylon at Chemstrand Corporation in Pensacola.
To my everlasting happiness I realized the first day of training that I could eat Morrison's food anytime I got a lunch break. Chemstrand had signed an industrial/institution contract with Morrison's Cafeteria to cook and serve the employees. All shifts were cooked for and served food to the workers. I truly believe the food in that cafeteria was what kept me happy working there those years. I ate veal cutlets in tomato sauce as often as it was served. I even ate it at 4:00 a.m. on my breakfast break if it was on line. Skip all the good breakfast food,
" Veal cutlet please".
I do have to say I never saw "Fillett Miggen" or Baked Alaska on the Morrison's menu, but everything else was 100 % wonderful.
I miss those early years of doing lunch at Morrison's in Mobile and Pensacola while we shopped and made sure we kept enough money back to eat there.
The lean years of our married life was lived in a 12 x 56 ft. mobile home while I worked shifts and Lamar worked to get a degree from PJC and UWF. We saved our coins so as to afford a movie and a dinner at Morrison's Cafeteria once a month.
The early years for Morrison's gave us the elegance of deep plush carpets, shiny chrome and glittering chandliers. Our trays were bussed to the tables by old men of color dressed in starched white shirts and jackets over red cummerbunds, black slacks and shiny black patent leather shoes.
Times and economics took away the performance of dining in the fantasy of Old South Plantation style.
I understand it and accept it.
It was wonderful and I'm glad I got to see and experience it, but that Morrison's Cafeteria is history.
I miss those wonderful meals at the early Morrison's Cafeteria's.
I miss veal cutlets in tomato sauce.
We still eat at Morrison's in Mobile when we get the chance.
The food is good, but not the same.
As long as age allows my brain to stay intact, I'll remember with fondness,
MORRISON'S CAFETERIA.
