Our Most Favorite or Funniest Food Memories

"Tuna and Seagulls" by Beth

The beach is one of my favorite places to eat. I love a cooler filled with sodas, beers, chips, sandwiches, etc. Everything tastes better at the beach. It's one of those rare places where I show no regard for my caloric intake. I never eat chips, but when I'm at the beach I am happy to take down the whole bag. Who cares?!? I mean, I am at the beach. I grew up in southwestern Connecticut. We would go to Calf Pasture in Norwalk, and Compo and Long Shore in Westport. It was lovely, even if it was a little rocky. My mother grew up in Long Island, and my Aunt and cousins still live there. Robert Moses and Jones Beach will always be special to me.

I recall one day going to the beach with my mom and my two brothers, Greg and Vince. My mother had packed tuna fish sandwiches on rye bread. And not just any rye bread, but rye bread from the venerable Walls Bakery in Hewlett, Long Island. I can easily devote an entire post to this bakery, but today I'll stay the course on my story :)

Before lunch we swam and worked up a good appetite for lunch. My mother handed out the sandwiches along with cans of Coca-Cola. I, always the most eager to eat, dove right in, devouring my sandwich and sucking down my coke. The rye bread was sour and dense and the tuna fish was perfectly salty and smooth. It was a heavenly combination. I didn’t even notice the seagulls gathering and circling us. My mom noticed first, and plainly told us to ignore them, and not to feed them. Duh! Why would I feed them my luscious sandwich? My brother Vince had not even begun his lunch when one of the birds droped a load squarely on his sandwich. We were all silenced, and just stared at his sandwich. My mother sprung into action with a paper towel, wiping down the sandwich. We looked at her like she was crazy, she was actually trying to salvage the sandwich covered in bird poop. She kept repeating, "It's fine, It's fine, I'll just wipe it off." Vince said nothing, but it was clear he was not about to eat that sandwich. I mean, who could blame him? My mom even suggested just removing the top slice of the sandwich. Even I, who loves to eat, knew that was no solution. I think my mom even thought of taking a bite herself to prove the sandwich was okay, but she put it down before it made its way anywhere near her mouth. She gave up, the sandwich was lost.

What strikes me most about this memory is not the bird poop on my brother's tuna sandwich, but my Mom's reaction. Her first thought was saving the tuna on rye. She almost brought a whole new meaning to the 5-second rule. And while eating the sandwich would be totally disgusting, I admire my mom's instincts here. Walls wasn't exactly around the corner, and that bread was special. A good sandwich is hard to find.