We have to admit that writing the above two editorials really made us think, not just about how much we’d love to have some pancakes and strawberry shortcake (right now!), but also about the degree to which our memories and thoughts of food bring such warmth and comfort to us.
For example: We remember our grandmother Miles bringing a dozen of Bette Ann’s jelly donuts to our house on Sunday mornings, as well as her lasagna. There was our grandmother Quigley’s “eat and be happy,” which was just ground hamburger on top of mashed potatoes with corn, but with the drippings from the hamburger poured on top, that we devoured in minutes.
In our young adult years, there was nothing better than a corned beef sandwich from Pressman’s Deli in Chelsea or a cheese steak sub (preceded by a foot-long dog while we were waiting for the cheese steak to be prepared) from Danny’s on Revere Beach or a North Ender sandwich (egg and peppers, dripping in olive oil, on a soft, Italian, sesame seed bun) from Scola’s sandwich shop.
As we grew older and our palates changed (and some might say improved), we recall our first salmon dinner at a restaurant on the docks in Seattle and grilled striped bass on Nobadeer Beach on Nantucket with our then-young children.
And yes, we remember sitting at a long table on the Deane Winthrop grounds enjoying strawberry shortcake with Myer and Frances Brill, and before that, as youngsters, having pancakes served to us by Winthrop High football players, all of whom were almost the equivalent of pro players in our young eyes.
Our former long time publisher, Andrew P. Quigley, used to say, “When you look back on your life, no matter what you’ve done or accomplished, the one thing nobody can take away from you is your memories.”
Well, food has given us our share of memories, but it is the association of food with those who no longer are with us that makes those memories so special.