GENE PERRET'S WIT STOP

Pilfered Mismatched Silver Makes a MOTHER'S DINNER TABLE Gleam

NOT TOO LONG AGO, WITH A GROUP OF travel writers, I enjoyed a red carpet food tour of the finest hotels in Phoenix. You name a first-rate hotel in the greater Phoenix area, and we had a gourmet meal there. Some were served in private dining rooms, some in outdoor settings, one at a banquet table in the hotel kitchen. The food was delicious; the ambience elegant.

This was a special treat for me because I was raised on good home-cooking. Mom's macaroni and cheese with stewed tomatoes was among my favorites. She also made a baked bean concoction that must have been an original because I've never tasted the likes of it anywhere else. I even enjoyed Mom's chipped beef on toast. Her food was delicious; the ambience wasn't elegant.

Let me state here that Mom was active in the church and had the clergy to her house for dinner often. I mention that to show that Mom wasn't a thief and didn't condone larceny in any form. However, she must have had a good friend who was, and did, because our family had a very eclectic and suspect collection of eating utensils.

At any given place setting, the fork might have "Horn and Hardart's" written on the handle. (Horn and Hardart's was a restaurant chain famous for their "automats," not for donating flatware to worthy families.) The knife might say "U.S. Navy," and the spoon could have The monogram "D" on it. Since our name began with a "P," I assumed we didn't purchase it. Our family creed at the time might have been, "Leave a tip but take the silverware."

As motley as our flatware was, it worked, and not just for eating, either. Many of the knives had indentations where they'd been used as screwdrivers. Most of the spoons were bent from having been used to open jam jars, stuck suitcase latches or anything that needed prying. Lord knows how the forks had been utilized, but if we had 12 of them, I guarantee no two of the 48 prongs were parallel.

This jumbled collection never bothered me as a youngster. All of our eating utensils were misshapen and had logos from well-known establishments on them. Okay. So long as I had a knife and a fork to capture all the peas and a slice of bread to sop up all the gravy, I was content.

Later, though, when I journeyed away from home, married, and began to raise a family, I realized that many people had knives, forks and spoons that matched not only one another, but all the other knives, forks and spoons on the table.

I began to feel somewhat embarrassed when I'd go home for dinner and have to butter my roll with an "Air Force" knife that had a half-moon burned into the tip where someone tried to do some electrical repairs without first turning off the current.

My wife and I bought Mom a nice set of stainless steel flatware with an impressive velvet-lined walnut container for storage. At about the same time, Mom won a church raffle. She was still active in the church. Her prize was a gorgeous set of real silverware with an even more impressive mahogany storage chest.

The next time my family went to Mom's for dinner, I sat down to a place setting of a twisted Horn and Hardart's knife, a bent U.S.M.C. spoon and a U.S. Navy fork on which one prong went north, another went northwest, a third went northeast, and the other one went down.

I said, "Mom, where's all the flatware we bought you for your birthday and the silverware you won?"

Mom said, "I'm saving that for when the nuns come."

So we enjoyed a lovingly cooked meal and resigned ourselves to the fact that if my wife and I wanted matching utensils at Mom's place, I'd have to join a monastery and she'd have to join a convent. All