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When Treats Tantalized Taste Buds

By Columnist Bob Bridge



When Treats Tantalized Taste Buds


My memory banks are filled with flavors and aromas reminiscent of those special moments in life.


Remember that old television commercial for Lay’s potato chips.


Bet you can’t eat just one!


Can you relate?


I certainly can.


One of my earliest remembrances is of my father bringing me a fish sandwich from the Tee Pee restaurant in Indianapolis on his return trips from Elkhart to Evansville.


Though hardly old enough to hold a fork, I would devour a giant sandwich in the blink of an eye. I would have eaten the plastic it was wrapped in if they let me. Each time we headed north we had to stop at the Tee Pee.


Just a few years later, on a fishing trip to Canada, my father surreptitiously introduced me to a new treat. Our menu was simple yet scrumptious — northern pike and fried potatoes prepared over a campfire.


“Nothing on my potatoes,” I requested.


Fortunately, Dad slipped a few onions into the skillet and I was immediately smitten with the savory side dish.


Becky, my lovely sister, was a bona fide Girl Scout. That meant cookies for Bobby each spring. I became hopelessly addicted to Thin Mints. When I opened a sleeve of those wondrous wafers, there was no returning it to the box.


My grandmother’s forte was Swiss steak. My friend and I sprinted from the classroom to her house during lunch period to eat and watch the World Series.


Talk about a special treat!


She included a bottle of Coca-Cola, and the service with a smile was even better than the entree.


My first true luxury was Charles Chips. They were crisp, salty and dispensed in a tin can. My friends and I were convinced this was what folks snacked on in Hollywood.


Drinks?


From an ice-cold lemon slush to a frosty mug of root beer to a large pitcher of sun tea, they are as memorable as the grocery sacks full of freshly buttered popcorn Mom popped for us on the stove to take to the drive-in movie.


Sadly, my cantankerous kidneys don’t allow me to ingest many of those childhood treasures.


So much for these “twilight years.”


One must live to eat, he must display discipline and eat to live.


Still, those tasty treats remain dear to my heart and continue to trigger traces of those precious people of my past.



Bob Bridge welcomes comments at 812-276-9646 or bbbbbridge@gmail.com.

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