During my more than 40 years of covering sporting events, I got to eat in some of the finest restaurants in North America.

The meals were sometimes spectacular, but it was the people and events surrounding some of those meals that really made them stand out.

One of the restaurants that always brought a smile to my face was the Sardine Factory in Monterey, CA.

It is located on the site of one of the factories made famous (or infamous) by John Steinbeck's "Cannery Row." The restaurant is atop a hill overlooking Monterey Bay and just a short walk down the street from several of the hotels and motels that Judy and I stayed in over the years.

On our first visit to the restaurant, we walked past a demolition site next door and Judy spotted a pile of red brick from what we think was one of the original Cannery Row buildings. She grabbed up one of the bricks and said, "This is coming home with me."

We had been married long enough by that time that I just shrugged and asked, "What are you going to do with it at the restaurant?" She smiled and said, "It can come with us. I'm sure it won't eat much."

That "famous" brick made its way back to Westfield, NJ and has stayed with us through two eventual moves.

The meals at the Sardine Factory were always special. And, since we were always there on race weekends at nearby Laguna Seca Raceway _ one of the most scenic and beautiful tracks in the world _ we ran into lots of friends and acquaintances every time we ate there.

The Sardine Factory is also the home of my all-time favorite dessert: white chocolate mousse. Spectacular!

But the meals that most stand out in my mind were served in the private room in the basement of the restaurant.

The room is cozy, with a big fireplace on one wall. It was equipped with its own private kitchen and its own chef, so the food didn't have to be brought down the stairs and the menu could be anything the host wanted. There was one huge table in the room, seating up to 20 people.

The gigantic table and the chairs were made out of a single California Redwood. Redwoods in California can only be bought after they have died. They are then auctioned off. In this case, the restaurant had the successful bid on a huge redwood, brought it to the basement and had it made into the table and a set of chairs that were built right in that room.

My first time in there was at a party thrown by Porsche to celebrate the end of its participation in the CART Indy Car series. The food and ambiance were great and the company even better.

But, thanks to Mike Neeley, the longtime promoter of the Portland, OR, Indy Car race, the best was yet to come.

I was walking through the paddock at Laguna Seca when I spotted Mike talking to a representative of one of the series sponsors. I stopped to say hello and Mike said, "Oh, I'm glad to see you. Is Judy here with you?"

When I told him she had accompanied me on the trip, he beamed.

"Each year, I have a little gathering at the Sardine Factory for some of my friends," Mike explained. "I try to invite different people every year. We serve a special meal and have some great conversations. Would you and Judy like to join us on Saturday night?"

Of course, I said yes.

He went on to say that meal would be a little different.

"Seagrams recently bought a French winery and we have a representative coming to the dinner. He's going to pair their wines with the different courses and explain the reasoning behind his choices," Mike noted.

Although Judy hardly drinks, I knew the idea of the pairings would intrigue her. So I asked Mike to, if possible, seat her near the Seagrams rep. He put them side-by-side.

The meal and the wines were both spectacular and, making it even more special for me, Judy had a ball chatting with the Seagrams rep and taking notes, as she often does. It was a wonderful and memorable evening. Maybe the best meal we've ever eaten.

During the years that NASCAR held its annual awards dinner in the ballroom of New York's Waldorf-Astoria Hotel, there were some very fine meals served. The most memorable for me, though, had little to do with the food.

The waiters at the Waldorf were all old pros. They were friendly, helpful and very good at their job.

Judy, Lanni and Tory took turns coming to the banquet as my plus-one. And, whenever Judy was there, she would chat up the waiters - usually two or three per table - and wind up taking uneaten desserts back to the room to share with the maids the next day.

After a while, the waiters got to know Judy and would put together a box of desserts for her when the meal was finished.

NASCAR's visit to New York City was always the first week in December and coincided with the lighting of the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree and the opening of the Christmas displays at the major department stores. Even being Jewish, it was a very lovely time of year in New York, with so much color and music and energy in the air.

Most of the media people were put at tables on the first balcony of the three-tiered Waldorf ballroom. It was nice to be above the crowded main floor because it was a great place to people watch and also easier to slip out to the bathroom or to make a call to the office without disturbing anyone around you.

One year, the meal had barely begun when a large piece of Christmas bunting, covered in white powder, let loose from the facia of the tier above us and floated down onto our 10-person table. It covered all of us and everything on the table in white powder.

Most of us sat in shocked silence before trying to clean the powder off our heads and our clothes _ tuxes and evening gowns.

But those old pro waiters didn't flinch. Within seconds, half a dozen of them had surrounded the table and began to take all the food and utensils away. As the table was cleared, a gleaming new tablecloth was brought out and laid down. Within moments, all new silverware and utensils were put down in front of us.

Food followed shortly after, with everyone getting exactly what they had ordered, hot and fresh.

It was an amazing display of professionalism. And hardly anyone in the ballroom, other than those of us at the table and those at the tables beside us, even knew it happened.

Another great meal had only a peripheral connection to my racing career.

It was July of 1988 and Judy and I were about to celebrate our 20th anniversary. We got a call from old friend Dan Luginbuhl, who was Roger Penske's right-hand man and had become a good friend. He also lived in New Jersey at the time.

Dan invited us to dinner at Chez Catherine, our local French bistro and one of his favorite restaurants, to celebrate our anniversary.

I told him we had to decline because Judy's mom and her Aunt Irene were going to be visiting at the time. Without hesitation, Dan said, "Bring them along. I'm sure they'll enjoy the restaurant."

I wasn't so sure Dan was right. Mom 'Rosee and Aunt Irene were the type of people who rarely order an appetizer and dessert at the same meal, unless it was a special occasion. I doubted that either of them had ever eaten at a French restaurant.

But Dan insisted and I accepted.

The meal was amazing, and not just because of the food.

Dan was and is a wine connoisseur. Mom and Irene rarely drank anything with alcohol, although Mom liked a beer on occasion. But, as the different wines came out and Dan explained what they were tasting, the two women sipped and appeared to enjoy themselves.

And both of them were starting to get a bit tipsy and silly.

At one point, Dan excused himself to go to the bathroom and Judy and I overheard the ladies whispering to each other, one of them saying, "He's so handsome. Like a young Robert Redford."

Now Dan's a nice looking guy, but that might be a bit over the top.

The highlight of the meal was yet to come. As we finished our main course, Catherine, the owner and primary chef, stopped by the table to ask about the meals. Of course, we all raved about the food.

Catherine said, "You must have dessert, though. We have some very fine specials tonight."

Just then, the waiter brought out the dessert tray, laden with eight or nine different choices, each one more inviting than the next.

Irene said, "They all look so good. I don't know how to choose."

Dan shrugged and said to the waiter, "Just leave the tray."

The ladies gasped and beamed and Catherine, seeing the reaction, said, "I'll send out the specials, too."

Mom Rosee said, "Well, we'll never eat all that. But we can take some home to the kids."

Sure! The five of us, Dan and his date finished off every one of those luscious desserts. And I don't think any of us felt guilty about it.

Dan got hugs and kisses on the cheek from both of the older ladies as we got ready to leave. Then, on the way to the car, Mom leaned over, grabbed my arm and asked, "How much did that meal set him back?"

I said, "I don't know, but it wasn't cheap." Mom shook her head and beamed saying, "Well, that was something."

We repaid Dan for that meal with another night at Chez Catherine a few months later. But, unfortunately, Mom and Irene weren't able to join us.