Memories of Léon’s Restaurant
When I was a young girl, a very young girl, my parents used to regularly take my sister Nora and me to one of their favorite restaurants. It was called Léon’s. It was an austere and serene place where one could have a leisurely meal in a relaxed atmosphere. The tables were set with starched white linen. The silverware gleamed as did the stemware. There always was a vase of flowers set on the tables. The waiters wore coat tails and bow ties. The clientele were elegant and soft-spoken. Quite a different way of dining than this modern world behaves.
As we entered the restaurant, our favorite waiter would come forward and lead us to a table. He would bow to our parents as he seated them. In the meantime, his assistant would have placed some height on two of the chairs so that my sister and I would be able to reach the table and eat with ease. Our waiter, whose name was Davar, I learned many years later, would gently lift us up and seat us on the chairs which were prepared for us. He would then unfold the large starched serviette and tie them behind our necks. He would bow one more time as he offered the menu to our parents and walk away to allow them time to choose the meals we would eat. Davar was a distinguished looking waiter. He behaved and carried himself impeccably. His posture was ramrod straight. He was of average height, yet appeared much taller.
Basically the meals at Léon’s were of European origin, leaning towards Russian cuisine. Because of that restaurant, to this day, my two favorite dishes are Kievski and Boeuf Stragonoff and my favorite dessert is gelée de grenade, somewhat reminiscent of jello but not quite the same and quite delicious. It is made from the fresh juice of pomegranates and no gelatin. On cold winter days they offered a hot borschts filled with marrow bones, cabbage, carrots, beets, and turnips with a dollop of sour cream on top. Delicious!
On a Friday afternoon, which is the Sunday of the Middle Eastern world, they would hold a Thé Dansantes. A few years later, when I was six or seven or perhaps eight, I sometimes tagged along with my uncle and his then current girlfriend. Then I would dance with them. I loved it! If the girlfriend gave me the cold shoulder, I would tell my uncle to get another girlfriend for I did not like that one! He was terribly good looking was my uncle and I was terribly cheeky!
Years passed. We were now three sisters and a baby brother. My sister Nora and I were sent off to boarding school in England. When I returned back home, I got married and had two little ones of my own, a son and a daughter. On Fridays we still sometimes lunched at Léon. Davar was still our waiter, but he had slowed down. He still greeted us warmly and with great affection but his hair had turned silvery white. He doddered a bit as he walked. He insisted on still bowing when he greeted us, however much we told him that it was quite unnecessary. He now wore polished leather bedroom slippers instead of his highly polished lace-up shoes. He no longer was able to lift little children to their seats. His helper did that, but he still insisted on tying the serviette around their little necks…
Today is a chilly grey winter’s day. As I glance out of my kitchen window, I think that it would be the perfect day to have a nice bowl of borscht with a dollop of sour cream. Then my thoughts go back to seventy something years ago and Léon’s Restaurant and Davar. I smile fondly at the memory. How the time has flown and how many beautiful memories I am blessed with.