Of King Tut and Split Pea Soup

Awhile ago my family dined at Pea Soup Andersen's in Santa Nella just off Hiway 5. A Danish windmill outside the restaurant was spinning continuously in the warm Central Valley wind. We planted ourselves in the air conditioned dining room. While perusing the menu I noted a man in his 60s sitting at an inconspicuous table in the corner. The man was sipping pea soup and reading a newspaper. His hair was gentry white, and his face was nicely tanned like the people in People Magazine. He had really good posture.


"Hey!" I whispered to the kids, "Don't all stare at once, but look over in the corner. It's Steve Martin!" The kids immediately tossed their menus onto the table and whipped around to stare where I was pointing. They squinted hard.


"That's not Steve Martin!" Clare finally said. "That's just some guy eating split pea soup. He doesn't even look Steve Martin. No way! You're nuts. Sheesh!"


I looked again. "Well," I pointed out, "If you kind of push your fingers in your eyes and use your imagination, it could be Steve Martin."


Later our meal was served. The appetizer at Anderson's is always split pea soup. There are no salads or bread sticks; there is only split pea soup. You could order minestrone for your main dish, and they'll still serve you split pea soup as your appetizer. I watched the kids poke around in their soup with their spoons. They suspiciously eyed the little chunks of partially submerged ham floating around like flotsam. I wondered how the split pea soup and the burgers and fries would all mix in their stomachs. This was a combination of food that just shouldn't be served together, I thought, like jello and olives, or turkey sandwiches and chocolate shakes. It was just wrong.


Meanwhile, the white-haired fellow in the corner wiped his mouth with a napkin then added some sugar cubes to his coffee and began stirring his drink with a little spoon. He caught my gaze, and I quickly averted my eyes, embarrassed. "Would you leave it alone?" my wife implored. "It's not Steve Martin!"


When leaving the restaurant I took this picture with my cell phone:

To this day my family still insists it was not Steve Martin. I'll let you be the judge.