« Saying goodbye to Jack! | Home | Full Gale Dale on America! »
EVERYBODY’S DANISH – Scandia Restaurant and other Danish Hanky Panky!
By fred | April 21, 2009
It has been a sad few months with the death of my brother in law Jack, I will miss him so, but life is for the living someone once said, so let us move on and return to another tale from my unfinished book ‘Everybody’s Danish.
Today lets return to the period of time in the 1940′s and for almost twenty years more one of the finest restrauants of the era was in full swing. Known as Kenneth Hansen’s Scandia. It did matter who in the hell you were, rich, famous, hot shot movie star, NO ONE was given priority, if your reseration was for 8 P M and a table was not ready, you waited, many a night waiting for a table we sat next to famous stars all waiting to enjoy the finest food in Hollywood and the Sunset Strip.
This is a tale of that restaurant from the inside looking out. Kenneth could be a complete son of a bitch one minute and ya had to love him the next———
CHAPTER (Scandia Restaurant a view from close up and other Danish “hanky panky”)
Kenneth Hansen’s Scandia, I sincerely doubt if there is anyone over fifty years of age, especially those in the so called upper income bracket, that enjoyed good food and fine dining that did not remember the name. There were Lawry’s, Perino’s, Romanoff’s, and many other excellent restaurants. None could compare with the food and service of Scandia. Stars, sportsman, and celebrities of all descriptions all waited their turn to be seated at Scandia – no favorites here, Kenneth did not have to cater to anyone, the bar was three and four deep with people. More million dollar deals were concocted at Scandia than food was eaten. If you lived anywhere in California, the western United States, or the world for that matter, and did not know of the famous Scandia Restaurant, you were certainly not in the ‘in’ crowd. The story of it’s beginning is little known.
As mentioned before, we had a small wholesale imported food and beverage business that was and outgrowth of the retail store. One of our customers was a restaurant called Bit of Sweden on Sunset Boulevard. There was no Swedish ownership, it was owned by some sort of investment group. The head chef, Kenneth Hansen, was trained in Denmark and Europe an artist in the art of cooking and food preparation. We sold them all of our Scandinavian foods such as crispbread, flat bread, cheeses, herring, sardines, fishballs, pate,’ lingonberries, Danish Fruit wine, Carlsberg Danish beer, Tuborg Danish beer, the works. Andy was his own wholesale salesman then, and from that relationship of salesman and chef, a life long friendship followed.
Something happened, Kenneth was discharged! You can be sure the money crowd in Hollywood knew who was responsible for feeding them so well. After obtaining some financing from a group of Bob Crosby, and other stars, Kenneth opened his first very small restaurant just a half block down Sunset Boulevard. He literally killed the Bit of Sweden. All of the cream of the Hollywood crowd deserted Bit of Sweden for Scandia. The little restaurant and bar was packed. In all of this there was a little rotten “hanky-panky” as far as the manager of Bit of Sweden was concerned. The whole story is buried in history, the part I do know was that Kenneth was fired from his job as head chef of the Bit of Sweden restaurant, and Dad was really pissed! “What they did to my friend Ken!” “How could they do that! “Whatever “that” was must have been awful bad. My Dad refused to call on, sell to, or have anything to do with the Bit of Sweden.
We soon got a letter from their attorney telling us that we had to, by law, sell to them. It seems that we could not discriminate, or chose our customers. As long as the customer abided by our companies condition of sales regarding payment, etc. we had to sell to them. This really got my father ticked off. He grabbed the phone and immediately called a fellow Danish Brotherhood member and lawyer Ben Hansen. After reading the letter to him, Ben replied “Andy, it’s the law, as long as they pay their bills you have to sell them.”
This has been discussed before! You do not tell a square head what he can or cannot do, especially if he thinks he’s right. It’s a no win situation! All the evil, cunning, of the Viking ancestors will come into play!
If a shipment of Swedish crisp bread would come in from the harbor and a few cases were smashed up, guess who got them? Some cans of herring badly dented or leaking, fill the Bit of Sweden order with them. Of course, they were returned, but in the process Bit of Sweden did not have that item to serve it’s customers. A popular cheese on Scandinavian restaurants menu may be getting very low in stock – Scandia’s invoice was filled, and Bit of Sweden’s scratched “sold out.”
On an invoice of Bit of Sweden with say twenty ordered items, ten could be marked “sold out”, “in transit”, “brand discontinued.” I can never, ever, in my life ever remember my father doing anything like this. Andy was a very easy going soul, never would he say anything to hurt anyone, especially their feelings, much less their lively-hood. Needless to say the landmark Bit of Sweden lasted only a few more years and then was gone. Fine dining in the Scandinavian style on Sunset Boulevard and the whole of Hollywood now belonged to Kenneth Hansen.
Within a few more years and only a block away from his original restaurant, the Scandia that became world renown for fine dining in the Scandinavian manner was built. This restaurant was a foundation of our wholesale import business. “Who uses the product (whatever it was),” a prospective customer might ask. Our salesman only had to say “Scandia” and the sale was made.
Ken had to have known the hanky-panky Andy was pulling on the Bit of Sweden. Never, even if a competitor was cheaper on a product would he or his chefs, bar managers, ever buy a product from someone else if it could be purchased from Andy. Some competitors called it the “Danish Mafia!”
Kenneth Hansen had to be one of the finest restaurant men of his time. A few other words to describe him might be S. O. B., tyrant, perfectionist, and actor. The major resorts, restaurants all over the world are dotted with his former waiters and chefs that had been trained to perfection by working for him at Scandia.
I knew several of these gentlemen, many had gone into businesses, and headed up major hotel complexes and restaurant operations. All had the highest regard for Kenneth, but not one would want to ever work for him again. I remember one of his highly trained former employees saying, “The standard that Kenneth Hansen wants will never be possible to attain, especially in a restaurant that does the huge volume of business that Scandia does. It is not possible. The pressure he maintains his help under is so extreme, most will stay a year at Scandia, that’s all. Then they can put on there resume that they worked for Kenneth Hansen at Scandia. To be fair, even if an employee quit in anger, I never heard of Kenneth not giving the former employee a good rating, if at all possible.”
The great chef Hans Prager started out as an “assistant” to the salad lady at Scandia. He worked his way up to master chef, when he left Scandia he became Executive Chef of the entire chain of Laury’s restaurants, and later was and still may be owner of several outstanding southern California restaurants. When he was Executive Chef of Laury’s his office was on La Cienga Boulevard, several miles from the Sunset Boulevard address of Scandia. One day when I was making a sales call on him, he said “Have you been to Scandia yet?”
“No” I said. “Kenneth is in Europe.” I asked him, how did he know Kenneth was gone.
“Hell, Fred, nobody has to tell me, I can hear the sigh of relief all the way over here!”
A very large German gal, that I really got a kick out of, worked for Kenneth for many years as the “salad lady.” She was about sixty years of age. I have no idea what the official title of her position would be in a restaurant today. At Ken’s she was the ‘salad lady.’ She had at least two assistants, her open faced Danish sandwiches and luncheon plates were not only delicious but a masterpiece of art to view.
In any fine restaurant, presentation is very important. The expression “you eat with your eyes” is very true. If the food does not look attractive on the plate, your first reaction would probably be, it doesn’t taste good. This may not be true! With the famous cold plates of a Scandinavian restaurant, the hundred’s of variations of open faced sandwiches, graf lax and herring serving’s, Pate’, cheese presentations, luncheon meats, various salad’s, every piece of lettuce, slice of tomato, garnish of radish, cold boiled egg, red cabbage, pickle, pickled beet – had to be perfectly placed before the plate could leave the kitchen.
Helga was her name, she and Kenneth mixed like oil and water! A love, hate relationship that was certainly not made in heaven! Many years Ken’s senior, she still always called him “Papa”. Helga, was maybe, five foot, two inches at the most, and about two hundred pounds of pure temper! Did I say Kenneth was temperamental? The two of them should never have been within a mile of each other, much less in the same restaurant. Just a whisper that one of her cold plates had been examined, and horror of horror, a slice of radish pushed to a different spot on the plate by Kenneth on its way from the kitchen to the customer would set her off!
“That’s enough, I quit!” you could hear her yell. Once, she even asked which way I was going, so she could be driven home to her small apartment a few miles away.
This went on for years. The rest of the kitchen staff, didn’t even raise and eyebrow, what the heck, Helga had quit a hundred times before. The assistants took over as Helga stormed out the door. Scandia was a weekly call on my sales route, a Thursday call. This must have happened six or seven times in those years, just on my Thursdays, so you have to wonder how many times she quit on all the other days of the week. Why did Ken put up with her? She was the best, simply the best a true artist with food!
The first time, the scene was witnessed, I asked the head chef, “What is Ken going to do?” The chef said “Don’t worry, when the lunch rush is over, and Kenneth has the time he will call her on the phone and “Sweet” talk her into coming back.” Sometimes the next day Ken would pick her up and take her to the restaurant to make her feel important. A bottle of cognac would maybe be left at her apartment as a peace offering. Soon after the new restaurant was built Helga retired. Her first assistant, a very highly trained lady took over and this stormy relationship ended.
The new “salad lady” told me that Ken would often visit Helga after her retirement and have a cup of coffee, a glass of cognac with her and chat! She was often invited to the “front side” for lunch or dinner. You would think that after all the fights and battles between these two veteran restaurant people that they would never want to see each other again! It may seem strange to an outsider, but in the extreme high pressure of a restaurant like this, where the standards are so high, steam had to be let off now and then.
Here it’s got to be said, that I did not always share the same relationship with Kenneth Hansen as my father. More like a love and hate relationship. He could be a class “A” son of a bitch when things were not going exactly as he wanted. This could be quite often! Always, very well groomed, with a little graying at the temples, the classic aristocratic nose, good posture, about six feet, one hundred and eighty pounds, always fit, bags under his eyes from the long hours. A lot of ladies thought that he was a very distinguished, extremely sexy man. When you saw Ken you saw “class,” period. Hell, I have to admit it – Ken was class with a capital ‘C’!
When Kenneth was on stage at his restaurant it was truly something to see! He would make it a point to circle the tables and booths in the main dining room, at least every hour or so. Stopping at tables, ordering a drink for a “friend” – standing with his arm on the back of your chair to show that you were special. If your order came he would pretend to inspect your plate, and chances are, snap his fingers for the waiters attention. (And you can be sure the waiters were watching him from the corner of their eyes at all times!)
“Is this the best we can do, tell the chef to add more mushrooms, properly sauteed,” he may tell the waiter with a harsh glare in his eye.
I found out later from the waiters and the kitchen help that rarely was anything wrong with the plate or food. Most times the food was rearranged a bit by the chefs, lettuce moved, whatever, and the same thing sent out! Showmanship it’s called! And no one was better at it than Ken.
My wife, Sally, and I ate there a number of times together. I honestly, do not remember one time when being served in his presence that she was allowed to eat her dinner right away. Snap, went the fingers! The waiter promptly at his shoulder. “Take Sally’s plate back to the kitchen, tell them———–.” Sally, could never understand when I came home after calling on Scandia some days and said what a S. O. B. Kenneth was on that particular day.
“Not my friend Ken!” Sally would say.
Usually, it was best to call on Scandia in the morning, well before the lunch rush, and before Kenneth would arrive. Then you could make the rounds of the bar, salad lady, and head chef and with the order written, get out quick. Some days with other appointments in the morning the only time to make the call was in the afternoon, after the lunch rush, my God did I hate that.
One day I had finally had it! Dad’s friend or not! Who needs this? It was some Danish cheese not aged to his satisfaction, or something. It was a tough day before getting to Scandia, and a wholesale salesman can only keep smiling so long.
“Mr. Hansen we don’t make the cheese, we only buy it, import it, and sell it to you” well, this went over like a lead balloon. One thing lead to another, and as I was storming out the back of the kitchen, his words were still ringing in my ears “I’m still talking to you Fred Nielsen!.”
Walking into our wholesale office, still steamed, Dad asked why I was so upset, so I told him the whole story. Andy asked the office girl to phone “Kenny” at Scandia. I have to insert here that very few called Kenneth Hansen “Kenny,” only very old friends.
“Kenny what’s going on?” my father said. He listened for a few minutes, and said “If you want aged cheese just ask Fred to have the warehouse put a few cases aside to age in our refrigerator for you, why make a big deal of it?” He listened for a few minutes more and the said “O. K. Kenny, if you want, goodbye.”
Dad said “Kenny wants you to drive over to see him now, he said he’s sorry.” “Hell no!” I said. Dad won!
When I got to Scandia this time Kenneth had left word with the whole damn kitchen staff, or so it seemed, that he was to be told when I arrived. Charm oozing from every pore he came charging through the swinging door to the kitchen from the bar. Arm around my shoulders, “let’s have a drink Fred, I know I get a little temperamental, I’m sorry!”
One drink lead to another and the make up celebration was on. Fingers were snapped, serving after serving of food and drink kept coming. I can remember having coffee and cognac, but that is about all. How did the car get home that night at one A. M? Especially, since I don’t remember a thing. Making up with Ken was something you did not want to do often. After that day we never clashed again. Some days he would pass me in the kitchen with a dark stormy look and never say a word of greeting. That was the worst of our new relationship. Again the pressure of trying to maintain his exacting standards, made an explosion now and then, something that just could not be avoided.
Topics: THIS & THAT from Uncle Fred | 3 Comments »
November 17th, 2009 at 9:41 pm
the Helga of your blog is my mom. about the only thing you wrote that was factual about her was that she was indeed an artist with food. most of the rest is fabrication. my mom passed away last week. if any one connected to the old Scandia and knew my mom feel free to contact me.
November 18th, 2009 at 4:00 pm
you removed my first comments. Your story about Helga isfactually inaccurate. Helga passed away last week. She is my mother. Perhaps the blog author does not like errors pointed out.
November 19th, 2009 at 11:43 pm
ok Fred and I got it squared away and I learned not to be so hasty. public apology on my part