Cover of vintage Rite Spot menu purchased on eBay from a Redding antiques dealer.
Long ago and far away, in addition to writing a decade’s worth of opinion columns and feature stories for Redding’s daily newspaper, I also wrote columns and stories about food and cooking. Occasionally, a reader would ask for a specific recipe from a bygone Redding restaurant and request that I track it down, such as Ramona’s enchilada sauce. It was pure fun and easy reporting, because people love to share their most-requested recipes.
Or I should say that most people love to share their recipes.
Such was the case when a reader emailed me and asked if I could please get ahold of the Paul Bunyan Rite Spot Restaurant salad dressing, which she said she’d always loved and always wanted. Since the Record Searchlight deleted all my work after my “departure” from the paper in 2007, I can’t look up the column to recall how the reader described it. I just remember that she loved the dressing and wanted the recipe.
I do remember thinking at the time that this was a slam-dunk assignment because I knew that Louis Grush, a former Shasta High instructor, once owned the former Paul Bunyan Rite Spot Restaurant. He was still alive and still in Redding. And his phone number was listed in the phone book. Yes, a phone book. God, I feel so old.
Although I’d never eaten there, I did remember the restaurant. I knew it was long gone, but it was once located along what we now know as South Market/Highway 273 in Redding. Back then, that stretch was dominated by Highway 99, prior to I-5’s construction. Because of the restaurant’s ideal location, drivers traveling back and forth from Canada to Tijuana would pass directly by the Paul Bunyan Rite Spot Restaurant. It truly was situated in the right spot.
First, a word about Mr. Grush.
Mr. Grush was a formidable, intimidating, no-nonsense government teacher who probably didn’t know that I even existed, let alone that I was one of his former students, and with good reason, since I routinely slumped down as far as possible in my seat during Mr. Grush’s demanding classes to avoid being called upon to answer a guaranteed difficult question. I felt stupid and inadequate around Mr. Grush. I privately thought of Mr. Grush as “Mr. Gruff” — because well, to me, he was.
Mr. Lou Grush. Photo source: Shasta High School 1974 yearbook.
But gosh, that was so long ago! So I worked up my courage and reached Mr. Grush in a telephone call with my request. I explained that a reader very much wanted his wonderful Rite Spot salad dressing recipe, and I’d be delighted to publish it.
I thought he’d feel flattered. I was poised to start typing the recipe.
(By the way, yes, according to AP Stylebook Lou Grush should be referred to as just “Grush” after the first reference, but I can’t. He was my teacher.)
The truth is, although many years had passed since I was a mediocre student in Mr. Grush’s class, on the phone, even elderly and retired, Mr. Grush was still a commanding force. Our conversation was brief. Mr. Grush said no, he would not share his Rite Spot salad dressing recipe for me to publish in the newspaper. He said the recipe was a deep secret that he’d be passing down to his children. After his death one day, his grown kids would be the keepers of the secret Paul Bunyan Rite Spot salad dressing recipe.
I wish I could say that I tried to reason with Mr. Grush, to stand up to him and appeal to rational thinking, like, come on, man, it’s just food! But no. I didn’t argue. After all, he was Mr. Grush. I just thanked him for his time, and said I understood (although I really didn’t).
In the next week’s food column I broke the disappointing news that Mr. Grush had declined to share his recipe, and I explained why.
A few days later a stealthy anonymous person dropped off an envelope for me at the front desk. Inside was a note that said the person used to work at the Rite Spot, and was more than happy to share the Rite Spot Dressing with me, so I could share it with readers. Judging by the handwriting, my hunch was that this person was a woman.
My elation was short lived, because I believed that it would be unethical for me to go against Mr. Grush’s wishes and publish his secret recipe. I don’t recall this kind of scenario covered in my CSU, Chico, Media Ethics course, but my gut knew right from wrong in this situation.
A double-caned, always dapper Lou Grush takes to the Sacramento River Trail in July, 2012, often accompanied by former Shasta High colleague, the late Paul Hughes. Grush died one year later at age 95. Photo courtesy of Darlene Grush Fults.
Fast forward to today, Oct. 16, 2025. I’ve now been in possession of Mr. Grush’s secret recipe for more than 20 years. Mr. Grush died in 2013 at age 95. Even after his death, I still didn’t feel it was right to publish the recipe. I felt morally bound to honor Mr. Grush’s intentions for his salad dressing recipe to remain solely in and for his family. Sure, in the privacy of my own home I’ve prepared the recipe a few times, and yeah, it’s pretty good. I even invested in a jug of pickle juice (one of the secret ingredients), with just that recipe in mind. But it always feels weird to not be able to share the recipe with anyone else. For me, sharing food and their recipes is one of the greatest joys of cooking.
A pivot away from the toxic and toward the positive
Lately, during these crazy times, I’ve increasingly felt drawn to pivot away from the sad, steady diet of reporting toxic news. I’ve felt the urge to return to A News Cafe’s early roots of feature stories, food stories and some opinion columns to help bring some semblance of sanity to my life (and yours) again.
A few months ago I decided the time was right to re-open the case of Lou Grush’s top-secret salad dressing recipe. My goal was to find some Grush offspring and see if they’d grant me permission to publish their father’s recipe. I figured that if they said no, I could do a whole story on all kinds of other salad dressings. Either way would be a win.
I did an online search and found an obituary for one of Mr. Grush’s sons, but not much of anything else. I resorted to posting a message on one of the “You Know You’re From Redding if …” Facebook pages. I asked if anyone knew how I could locate any of Mr. Grush’s grown kids. One person sent me the name of Darlene Grush Fults, with her home address, right here in Redding. No phone number. And she’s not on Facebook. Undaunted, I mailed her a polite message on a pretty thank-you note. I explained that I’d like permission to please publish her father’s Rite Spot Dressing recipe. I hoped I wouldn’t spook her. Fingers crossed. Weeks passed. No word.
While I waited for her response, I did a little research about the Paul Bunyan Rite Spot Restaurant.
I found postcards online, like this one.
And this oldie.
I even found a vintage intact Rite Spot menu on eBay from a seller who lives in Redding. Score! I bought it. I thought perhaps I could take it to Darlene one day when we met in person. The menu prices were stunning. Oh my gosh. A BLT sandwich for 55 cents. A peanut butter sandwich for 30 cents, and 5 cents more would buy a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. One of the most expensive items on the menu was the breakfast steak, which included two eggs, potatoes, bread and butter for $1.85. I’d love to see the Rite Spot’s dinner menu that included Mr. Grush’s famous, “3-fingers thick” steak.
Mr. Grush’s personal message on the menu’s inside back cover was especially touching and telling about his pride as a successful restaurateur:
“The Rite Spot Cafe has become a landmark and the place to eat in Redding. Our reputation has spread to the far corners of the continent. We have received letters from Labrador, New Orleans, Montreal, and New Pork News, Virginia.
Because of this we feel our efforts are pleasing a majority of the people. Please help us spread this reputation. If somehow things aren’t just so with your meal, tell the waitress so that we may correct it to the best of our ability.
We believe our function as a restaurant is to please and satisfy, for which we are amply repaid by your continuous patronage and friendship.
Louis T. Grush”
I learned about the giant Paul Bunyan statue that stood in the parking lot outside the Rite Spot.
According to Roadside Architecture.com, there were many Paul Bunyan statues. They stood 20 feet tall, and were molded fiberglass produced by Prewitt Fiberglass Animals around 1961. Most of the Paul Bunyan statues held axes, but they could be customized into golfers or cowboys.
According to some Facebook commenters, the last time anyone has seen the Rite Spot’s old Paul Bunyan statue it was standing among the pines in a Viola church camp, about 40 miles east of Redding. Comparing the old postcards to the photo of the Paul Bunyan standing near a forest it appears Mr. Bunyan has been touched up and painted over the years.
The day I picked up the Rite Spot menu was the day I decided to do something rude, something that goes against my beliefs, something I usually am not a fan of people doing to me (unless the house is clean and I’m fully dressed and have nothing else going on, and I’m not writing, and there’s nowhere I’m supposed to be): I would drop by Darlene Fults’ home uninvited. First, I would giftwrap the menu with yet another card, and then go directly to Mr. Grush’s daughter’s home and deliver the menu in person.
That’s what I did. I fully expected that either the daughter would have moved, or she wouldn’t be home, or, if home, she’d turn me away.
I was wrong on all counts. She was home. She was kind. After a few minutes of conversing through the closed security door, she invited me inside.
Dan and Darlene Fults of Redding hold their dog outside their Redding home. Photo by Doni Chamberlain
She’s a frequent smiler, and inclined to lightly grasp someone’s upper arm while making a point. She referred to me as honey. She was unpretentious, curious, and instantly likeable. She could not have been nicer or more helpful. She apologized for not calling me after she’d received the card in the mail, but said she wasn’t quite sure what I wanted. As we spoke, it was apparent she thought that I was looking for the recipe, which she then looked up and tried to recall for me from memory, because she said she didn’t have the recipe. “Let’s see, oil, of course,” she began. I told her I had the recipe, and have had it for decades. All I needed was Mr. Grush’s kids’ permission to publish it.
She explained that actually, she was Mr. Grush’s stepdaughter, and I should really be speaking to his “real” biological children. For one thing, she didn’t have the salad dressing recipe, and besides, it would really be her step siblings’ decision to give permission, not hers. She spoke glowingly of her stepfather, and explained that his marriage to her mother Jeannie, (who already had Darlene and two other children) was Mr. Grush’s second marriage. His first marriage had produced five children.
Fultz gave me the phone number and address for her stepsister, Eloise Mendez, one of Mr. Grush’s daughters from his first marriage. Although Fultz had her stepsister’s contact information, it had been many years since the women were in contact.
I called Mendez’s number and was relieved when her husband answered, and handed the phone off to his wife (after he’d determined my reason for calling). She answered the phone and immediately put our conversation on speaker so her husband could hear this bizarre request from his wife’s former hometown. I felt so grateful for her willingness to speak, because it meant I wouldn’t need to drive to El Segundo to cold-call her in person.
Lou Grush’s daughter, Eloise Mendez, and her husband Jose Mendez, pose in this 2013 photo.
Like Fultz, Mendez was as lovely as could be, although she did seem perplexed to hear from a journalist asking about her father’s salad dressing. The longer we spoke, the more background she provided about her father, and how he ended up owning a restaurant where he cooked in the evenings, and working as a high school teacher by day.
She said that her parents were both born in 1918, and met while attending UCLA. Lou Grush and Annabel Johnson married in 1939.
Lou and Annabel Grush. Photo courtesy of Eloise Mendez.
For a time, her father — who loved trains — worked at the downtown Los Angeles train station. He soon enlisted in the Army Air Corp during World War II where he was a bombardier trainer.
Lou Grush in the Army Air Corps during World War II, top row, second from the right.
Her mother Annabel majored in business and minored in art at a time when it was relatively rare for women to pursue higher education.
Annabel Johnson Grush.
After the war, between 1948 and 1949, Grush traded the family’s Southern California Santa Monica home for the Northern California Rite Spot, which Mendez described as nothing more than a little truck stop, at least at first. She said the Grush family lived in a small structure behind the restaurant that was more like a shed. Why Redding, of all places? Mendez said her father had asthma, and wanted to move to away from the city and to a place where breathing was easier.
The Grush children. (The two remaining Grush children are Eloise and her brother Rick, pictured in the front.) Photo courtesy of Eloise Grush Mendez.
Lou and Annabel continued to renovate and add onto the Rite Spot, and eventually they moved into a house in Anderson that had small farm animals, like goats and a pig named named snickelfritz (a Pennsylvania Dutch affectionate term for a mischievous, talkative child, in case you’re wondering).
“Crazy times,” Mendez said with a laugh. “Back in those days you made due with what you had, and did what you had to do to get by.”
At the restaurant, Mendez said the restaurant had a professional chef, but her father often cooked and her mother made pies. The “crazy” Grush life grew even crazier after the couple were married for 17 years and Annabel Grush hired a woman to work as a Rite Spot waitress. Mr. Grush soon moved out of the family home, gave the house to his wife, moved into an apartment, divorced Annabel, and married the woman his wife had hired as a waitress, Jeannie, who had three children, including Darlene Fults of Redding.
“It was a bit of a sticky web,” Mendez admitted with a sigh.
Lou Grush’s first wife, Annabel Johnson Grush. Photo courtesy of Eloise Mendez.
Annabel and the three youngest Grush children who were still living at home returned to Southern California to be near her parents. Annabel helped support herself and her children by working for her father’s machine shop. After that, Eloise and her siblings didn’t see their father much, and although Eloise and Darlene were each around 10 years old when Mr. Grush divorced Annabel and married Darlene’s mother, the stepsisters — understandably — were not close, and didn’t remain in touch.
The construction of Interstate 5 was the financial kiss of death for the Rite Spot as the establishment no longer had a steady stream of highway traffic, which led to the restaurant’s demise some time in the ’70s. Mendez said her father later tried again when he opened a restaurant called the Carousel in downtown Redding, and yet another restaurant with a name she couldn’t recall.
Wait. What? Wrong recipe?!!
Finally, the conversation turned to the Rite Spot salad dressing recipe, and a discussion about publication permission. Mendez acknowledged that her father’s salad dressing was always considered a family secret. In fact, Mendez said that at one point she and her siblings considered getting a patent for the recipe, but time passed and they never pursued legal protection for the recipe.
As an aside, according to copyright alliance.org, it’s nearly impossible to successfully copyright a recipe. But like the recent story about Dan Ferrarese’s formerly secret pasta salad recipe, sometimes the issue is not so much about what’s legally permissible, but what’s considerate and compassionate, especially when it involves family recipes.
For verification, Mendez asked me to read the recipe to her over the phone. She listened quietly as I recited the ingredients and directions. Her response was a shocker, and resulted in my exclamation of, “What? Are you serious?!”
“OK, that doesn’t sound like the recipe I have,” Mendez said. “I could tell the moment you started reading, because it’s not Wesson oil. You threw me for a loop when you said Wesson oil. It’s cottonseed oil. Also, see, the recipe I have is a third and a third and a third. Let me go get the recipe and call you back.”
What. The. Actual. Hell!
True to her word, Mendez retrieved her recipe and texted it. Yes, I have her permission to publish it.
I’m still adjusting to the shocking reality that the recipe given to me by an anonymous person more than 20 years ago wasn’t Mr. Grush’s original recipe after all. Notice the lack of pickle juice, for example. And take note of the huge amount of fresh garlic in the above recipe. It’s stunning to realize that after all these years, I could have published the recipe given to me in secret any time. The recipe I’d closely guarded as top secret was different from the recipe Lou Grush had passed onto his children.
However, although we have Mr. Grush’s original recipe (plus the imposter recipe), a word of warning about both recipes’ measurements. Mendez said that when it comes to her father’s recipe’s reference to “large spoons” we’re not talking about a classic measuring tablespoon, but rather, some large, unspecified, industrial kitchen-sized large spoon. It’s anyone’s guess how large a “large spoon” needs to be for this recipe. As was common in older recipes, measurements are not precise, and they rely upon the cook’s preferences, cooking knowledge and experience. For ingredients like “garlic buttons” they’re probably just peeled, whole garlic cloves, perhaps cut in half. But maybe not. This may call for some recipe experimentation.
In the meantime, Mendez did say that her mother made an exquisite lemon meringue pie that she served when she worked at the Rite Spot. When asked whether she might share that recipe with A News Cafe, she paused.
We laughed and laughed.
Let’s tackle one recipe at a time. Today, it’s the Paul Bunyan Rite Spot salad dressing. Both of them.
Next, though, I have Woolworth’s Apple Dumpling recipe and its German Chocolate Cake. And Andrea Charroin’s Marathon Bars. No shortage of recipes.
Note: In the earliest version of this story I said I had some Ramona’s Mexican Restaurant recipes that I could share later. The good news is that I do have those recipes, which I received anonymously in a brown manila envelope when I worked at the paper decades ago. The disappointing news is that a Ramona’s family member read my statement in this story, and contacted me to order me not to publish those recipes. Good grief. Ok. I won’t.
Either way, there’s no shortage of great recipes. And as long as there are recipes to try, we’ll be just fine.
Rite Spot Cafe postcard, prior to Paul Bunyan Rite Spot Restaurant. Photo source: Facebook.
Which is the real Paul Bunyan Rite Spot Salad Dressing?
‘Rite Spot Salad Dressing’
Mix by quart:
2/3 qt. Wesson oil
1/3 qt. vinegar (cider), part pickle juice)
Handful grated Parmesan cheese
1 tsp. sugar
1 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. or so of garlic powder (or leave cloves of garlic in jar while storing the dressing) I do both.
One secret to this dressing is the pickle juice and I prefer all dill, otherwise it seems too sour.
The other secret? It was always served on fresh lettuce cut large bite size in wooden bowls rubbed with fresh garlic.
Real Paul Bunyan Salad Dressing
1 gallon glass jar
Garlic buttons to cover 1 1/2 inches of bottom of jar
1/3 of glass jar filled with apple cider vinegar
2/3 — or rest of gallon jar — filled with cottonseed oil (do not use olive oil)
2 large spoons of salt and garlic powder
2 large spoons of Parmesan cheese
Shake it up or use mixer. I stirred it up.
Let stand for one week in refrigerator before using.
(You can use a large mayo jar instead of a large gallon jar. Then you can use tablespoon for salt, Parmesan cheese and garlic powder. Taste.)
Published with permission from Eloise Grush Mendez.
Note: This story was updated with additional photos and information at 1:30 p.m. on Oct. 16, 2025.
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