Pixie Kitchen

A friend of mine posted this photo on Facebook a couple of days ago. Funny story, this.

The Pixie Kitchen was kitschy but authentic. It opened in 1953, served seafood that I cannot remember, had an outdoor "Pixieland" for kids that I never saw functioning, and was one of those restaurants that everyone had to visit at least once but only to say you had done so. I do remember at least one trip as a kid with my parents. I remember this because somehow someone saw fit to let me buy a souvenir from the jam-packed gift shop. My memorable choice? A baby octopus in a jar of formaldehyde. You could probably go to jail if you were found with one of those in your possession these days.

The very first "real date" I went on was to the Oregon coast and included a stop at this restaurant. I borrowed the parent's car and we drove down to the beach on a typically rainy Sunday, I believe it was. It wasn't Valentine's Day but the girl did subsequently become my Valentine.

Besides the fact that girl remains a treasured friend of mine to this day, the thing I remember most is sitting down to lunch and suddenly thinking, "Crap! Do I have enough money for this?" I honestly don't remember if I did or not or whether we split the check. At any rate, we had enough of a good time to remain close to this day, thirty-some years later.

The Pixie Kitchen closed in 1985. The octopus is long gone. But that feeling, that realization that you might not be able to cover the check, that's the souvenir I'll keep forever from my visit to the Pixie Kitchen. That, and the girl who posted the photo.