End of an era: Lahiere's closes

So sad to learn that Lahiere’s is closing after so many years as one of Princeton’s favorite dining spots (Campus Notebook, Dec. 8).

Our first experience at Lahiere’s was in 1946, the year my husband entered Princeton as a freshman. As newlyweds, we lived in an apartment in the building next to Lahiere’s. So we were neighbors for several months while waiting for the completion of the Harrison Street Project.

Sometimes we could afford to go there for lunch. Soup was all we could afford; however, it was delicious and came with free, unlimited French bread. A memorable experience was the day we discovered oyster stew on the menu at an unbelievably low price that we actually could afford. Much to our chagrin, when the check came, it turned out that the price listed was a mistake! When management learned we did not have the cash to pay the real price, they good-naturedly abided by their mistake.

We continued to enjoy an occasional meal there for the six years of our Princeton residency, and over the years have frequented the restaurant on special trips to Princeton. But the second most memorable visit to the restaurant occurred almost 50 years after the first. In 1996 we were in Princeton for a reunion of some architectural students and decided to lunch there. It was our first visit since the restaurant had purchased the building next door and had greatly enlarged the restaurant. When I went up to the second floor to use the ladies’ room, I realized I was standing in what had been the kitchen in our old apartment.

What happened next is somewhat embarrassing. As we departed the restaurant I could not resist telling the owner about the coincidence of discovering my old kitchen and asked him if they still had such a problem with ants and cockroaches – as I had 50 years earlier. I meant for it to be taken as a facetious remark.  By the look on the owner’s face, it was obviously not taken for such.

So it’s a bit late, but I apologize for my bad humor and thank the whole family for our many pleasant experiences at their restaurant. Princeton won’t seem the same place without this Witherspoon landmark.

It was the fall of 1972.   Protests, antiwar sentiment, the Concerned Alumni of Princeton — a fairly turbulent time at Princeton. Through an extracurricular activity involving the visual arts, I met a sophomore named Molly from California: blond, blue-eyed, adorable. I was smitten.  

In an effort to impress her and convince her that I was not another patched-jeans, long-haired, insincere college jerk, I asked her on a date to Lahiere’s. She had never been there and kindly accepted. I couldn’t wait. I had saved money from working at Commons, took my lone dress shirt and fairly decent slacks to the cleaners to be washed and pressed, put on some ridiculously wide and loud ’70s tie, and proudly went on my date to this fancy French restaurant.  

Dinner was lovely, but Molly definitely was not impressed. My heart sank. It appeared that my efforts of going upscale were inconsistent with her notions of a good time. I think I would have been better off taking her somewhere for brown rice and veggies in my patched jeans and a tie-dyed shirt. My strategy had backfired — miserably. Molly and I never went on another date.  

To this day, I remember that evening, which puts a smile on my face and has me pining for Molly again — all in the name of recapturing some of my youth during those four unforgettable years at Princeton.

Fans of Lahiere’s restaurant may be interested to know that my grand­father, the late Gerard B. Lambert 1908, liked Princeton Township so much that he acquired 400 acres on either side of Province Line Road and built a mansion called Albemarle around 1920 (in the ’50s, he donated the house to the American Boychoir School, and it is still there on Lambert Drive).

It was my grandfather who brought the Lahieres from southwestern France to farm the Albemarle land. He installed the Lahiere family in a white frame house. If I recall correctly, a Lahiere daughter founded the restaurant, and either she or a daughter of hers married a Christen who subsequently operated the restaurant.

In 1968, my grandmother took my half-brother, Peter Fleming, and a French friend to visit the Lahieres at the white frame house. According to Peter, “Monsieur Lahiere was very old and was delighted to speak French with our friend, who also comes from France’s southwest region. The Lahieres’ daughter was present. They were so happy to see our grandmother and reminisce about her family.”

As a child, whenever we would visit my grandparents in Princeton, a lunch or dinner at Lahiere’s was a “must,” and we Lamberts always got special attention. My last meal at Lahiere’s was a nice lunch during my 30th reunion.

My now-husband, David Gray ’89, took me to Lahiere’s to celebrate my 21st birthday. Almost six years later, the skits at our rehearsal wedding dinner portraying that first real date were only a tiny bit exaggerated: I order rack of lamb, and my beau, worried about his wallet, tells the waiter, “I’ll just have water.” We were able to dine there again last year when back for our 20th reunion, this time with our three children. Lahiere’s will always retain a special place in our memories.

It is sad to see lights out at Lahiere’s (Campus Notebook, Dec. 8). One of my first childhood memories is sitting in the dark back of a station wagon parked on Witherspoon Street with several kids, all in pajamas, blankets piled high. We would peer out of the car, through Lahiere’s windows, at our parents (Tolands, Morgans, Ballantines, and Bucks) as they enjoyed festive dinners. It was the early ’50s; half of the grownups were graduate students; they were happy; and they kept careful watch over us at a relaxed distance. When I attended Princeton, and later visited as an alumnus over 40 years, I often returned to Lahiere’s for a comforting dinner and always angled to get a seat by those softly lit windows with a view of the street.