AA Buffet

When I was a kid, my family went on regular trips from Seaside to Salinas to have dinner at an all-you-can-eat buffet that we called Perry Boy’s, but I found out later was called Ole Frijole’s. They were events my brother and I adored for the tasty food, casualness and arcade games. Our stepfather adored it because he could put food away like he was in it to win a prize. And our mom adored it because it was a family night out. To this day, I still have a soft spot for buffets. For a lot of families, going to a buffet is a special occasion, one in which you don’t have the hurdle of nice clothes or the rules of etiquette to be anxious about, where a family could eat all they want – a night of plenty. (That same family could cook a meal together at home and reap different rewards, and in there seems to be a lesson about gluttony. But buffets have their place in our culture – for some, for now.)

It made me a buffet fan. Since then I’ve tried countless of its ilk: the popular Sakura Seafood Buffet in Salinas; Ambrosia’s aromatic lunch and brunch buffet in Monterey; the spotty offerings at Seaside’s Grand Buffet, where you can find whole baked squid.

The true measure of an all-you-can-eat buffet is the cumulative score. Just because one encounters pot stickers that have calcified into jaw breakers, or lasagna that tastes like a loofa, doesn’t mean the meal is ruined. When there are dozens of other items, one should give those other contenders a chance to redeem a meal.

I’ve come to hold AA Buffet in Salinas as my standard for its number of items, the variety, the quality and that roaming feeling of untethered spaciousness.

The herd mentality works at buffets like it. The more people partake, the more the food is rotating in the kitchen, the fresher the fare. My family and I sat ourselves – you seat yourself at most buffets, which some may find disorienting and others will find liberating – amid five others in a dining room as spacious and somber as the hotel inThe Shining. I should have scoped out the place before committing (dinner runs $10.39/adult, $2.40-$2.70/child 3 and under, $0.80-$0.90/each year for children 3-11; lunch is $1-$2 cheaper).

They boast 150 individual food items of American, Chinese, Japanese, Korean and Mexican origin. Yes, 150. Our little girl is at an age that the roaming-and-foraging nature of the buffet was an adventure, so with a slice of pepperoni pizza, a fried chicken drumstick, some bready things and Jello, she was fine. My mom, who worked in restaurants, barely ate; she was there for the family night out aspect. My wife was excited about the Chinese bun – sweet, snow-white, steamed. But instead of the pillowy texture, hers clattered against her plate. She picked it up and dropped it, demonstrating the robustness of either the bun or the plate. She did the same with an apple strudel-like pastry.

I was confused. I had eaten at AA Buffet several times in the past – mostly lunch – and liked it every time.

There were good items. There was an array of Chinese food, like broccoli beef and sautéed mushroom, that would hold up in any food court. There was the sushi bar that comported itself with pride. And they had that savior of many-a-buffet: chilled Dungeness crab legs.

But then there were concessions to mediocrity, like desserts of banana chunks drenched in a bath of sweet red sauce, or canned peaches in syrup, or deep fried things – dough balls rolled in sugar, French fries, shrimp, onion rings – that had hardened. One soup had a film on top that resisted the ladle like the force field around the Death Star. The salad bar was neat, but the dressings outnumbered the vegetable choices. The dour moods of the staff reflected that misfire feeling that the shiny food guards, chandeliers, polished floor and piped-in Chinese pop music couldn’t lift.

I wondered what had happened to that reliably, edibly enjoyable AA Buffet I had known. I went back for lunch, this time on a Monday, and there it was. Customers were strolling away with toothpicks, and inside they were chatting merrily. Employees were smiling, even shouting “Hello, my friend!” while walking the floor, cleaning and checking on things, listening, anticipating. The foods were fresher and being replenished according to necessity. Both the bun and the apple strudel were tender, the broccoli in the broccoli beef was greener, the meatball shrimp thingy was moist, as was my favorite, pork shumai. The sushi had slipped a bit, but everything else, like the soups, had elevated significantly. Even the soda tasted crisp.

It was like a Tale of Two Restaurants… within the same space. One was a tasty and casual eatery staffed by people who seemed proud to be there. The other a depressed and moody eating establishment of last resort. How to tell which one you’re going to get? Ask to look around, look at the food, note the moods of the customers and employees, use your senses. That’s the advantage of a buffet. It’s all out there on display with an honesty and earnestness you gotta admire. Like Ole Frijoles, back when it was located in the same strip mall as AA Buffet is today.

AA BUFFET 910 South Main St., Salinas. • 11am-3:30pm Mon-Sat, 3:30-9pm Mon-Fri, 11am-9pm dinner all day Sun • 751-9888.