"CRUNCHY MUNCHIES": A Tribute to Dad and his Love of The Sneaky Snack

"CRUNCHY MUNCHIES"

 A Tribute to Dad and his Love of the  Sneaky Snack

    Periodically my parents come to visit when my "to do" list begins to drowned me. 
    My dad is content to sit on the edge of our mustard yellow couch, legs crossed, eating oreo cookies accompanied with a small glass of milk while he watches Antonio spin around the living room to his favorite children's records.
    Dad would snack his way through life if it wasn't for my mom.
    Late in the afternoon he enjoys a cup of coffee.
    "The coffee at Moulson house is always good," he says raising his coffee mug with a smile. Good means strong.
    Manuel and Kevin, my stepsons always attend to him kindly.  As soon as they see him padding into our kitchen in his hunched over manner, one of then approaches him asking,
    "What can we get for you?"
    Anything that is crunchy, salty, or sweet is what he prefers.  Nothing big.  Little bits that fit easily into his mouth.  

     He's never eaten a big amount in one sitting.  At dinner time he'll leave half a plate full.  He'll nibble on his steak, eat half his mashed potatoes, and leave most his vegetables behind. He prefers canned fruits and vegetables to fresh or frozen.  He enjoys the sweet flavor they leave behind.
    Pasta is out.  Pizza-not that interested.  Definitely no wings.  Rice-not a favorite. The winners are meat (steak, pork chops or chicken) potatoes, coffee, and snacks.
    I can't leave out fried foods.  His eyes light up when he sees french fries or onion rings. "Oh goody," he'll say. Thankfully mom has limited those things as well.  
    When Manolo knows dad is coming over, he says,
    "Now don't forget to buy your dad his favorite--a three muskateeros bar," as Manolo calls it. 
    Dad never asks for food but when offered, he eagerly accepts.
    After church, he'll smile and give folks friendly waves but his focused stride is straight to the community room where there are cookies and coffee. 
    As a little girl, I knew if dad had to withdraw money from the local ATM, there would be a simultaneous mission to get a candy bar at the nearby college bookstore. If I tagged along, I could be apart of this treat.
    If he had to mail a letter at the post office on main street, there was the thrill of going along knowing there would be a stop at the Mini mart gas station next door for a sweet treat. 
    He openly acknowledges his favorite part of the army was lunch time. That, and the occasional thrill of stumbling across a piano located at the place he was stationed. 
    Subway came to my hometown of Houghton some years ago.  Dad is quite content with a quarter of a sub made with turkey, provolone cheese, mayonnaise, and a few strands of lettuce. 
    If mom and dad stop into Friendlies, dinner is a tuna sandwich on white bread or a hot dog with chips and a glass of milk. 
    If they are traveling and go through a McDonalds drive thru, they order a happy meal without the toy inside, and they split it. The happy meal includes a hamburger and small fries with a milk. Then they order an extra milk and two straws.
    I've tried introducing my parents to alternative foods like sushi for example. I realize that's a big jump.
    Six years ago, when they were visiting me in Rochester, I convinced them to participate with me in what I told them would be a "delicious adventure."

     "California Rollin" is a place where they make and serve incredible fresh sushi.  

     After the waitress brought our orders, dad stared at the sushi with a half smile, then looked up and said,

     "During the war, they told us not to eat any of this stuff." 

     Then without warning he grabbed a sushi roll, and popped it into his mouth.

     "Oh well!" he said.

     I made sure to order him a "Philly Roll," which is a plate of sushi rolls filled with partial cream cheese in the middle and fried on the outside.  I knew the choice was a success when he uttered the phrase,

     "Mmm.... Numsy."

     Mom, on the other hand, wasn't so convinced.  When she saw that the sushi rolls were served on boards and not plates she asked,

     "Do they wash these boards?"

     After that, I stuck with the safe route of taking them to Friendlies when they came to visit me.  Dad loves the strawberry shakes there.

     I was ten when a waitress, delivering dad's strawberry shake at Friendlys, spilled the entire cold beverage in his lap.

     One thing I admire is how gracious dad is with waitresses.  

     "It's ok! It's ok!" He said raising his hands. "It could happen to anyone, and it happened to you!" He said laughing.

     The manager came over to give us free dessert coupons and apologize. 

     "Oh, it is of nothing," my dad said using one of his favorite phrases. (It's a direct translation from the Spanish phrase "de nada.") "No really. You can't know how I'm enjoying being a martyr in this situation."

     The manager didn't follow what dad said so he apologized again, laughed nervously, and walked away.

     One of dad's biggest thrills as a child was getting treated to a root beer float by his dad.  After church, Grandpa Allen would pick up Grandma Allen, Dad, and his three sisters.  Dad would sit in the back seat of the car hoping above all hopes that Grandpa would decide to take them to get root beer floats on the way home. And sometimes he would!

     Whenever we would visited my mom's mom, Grandma McMahon, in Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio, my dad made sure we stopped at Saywells's drugstore in the nearby town of Hudson for their smooth chocolate shakes. 

     Saywells hadn't changed their decor since the 1950's so you could sit on a bright red plastic padded stool and order your shake over the counter, Norman Rockwell style. As a kid in shorts during the hot summer days, the backs of my thighs always stuck to those stools. A couple years ago, I went back to Saywells and was disappointed to find they had remodeled.

     Fourty five minutes from my hometown of Houghton is the nearest shopping mall, but more importantly, my parents favorite restaurant, Beef n Barrel.  My parents have been going   there since my sister was seven.

     Dad's favorite has always been the hot roast beef open face sandwich with mashed potatoes and gravy. Coffee and apple pie with a small slice of cheese for dessert.  

     In recent years, dad's appetite has declined so he orders a bowl of vegetable soup with a small piece of rye bread. And of course, apple pie and coffee.

     If it's not apple pie and coffee at Beef n Barrel, it was cherry pie and coffee at Lorraine's (which sadly burned down a couple years ago) or Dutch Apple pie and coffee at Aces Country Cupboard. 

     Dad also loves breakfast at Aces where he orders two eggs over easy,  two strips of bacon, rye toast with butter and coffee. 

     Another highlight is a juicy hamburger with fries. In the middle of a cold Rochester night when dad was still in school at Eastman, he'd go to a local diner at 2am for a warm greasy hamburger with fries and coffee. 

     On one occasion, when dad was in Japan during the war, he was feeling particularly homesick. He was delighted when the soldiers were served hamburgers that night.

     "It was sort of similar," he said, "but it wasn't the same as the hamburgers I grew up with."

     Despite dad's love of fried foods and sugar, dad has always been skinny.  And the doctors are constantly telling him to get his weight up.

     During Christmas some years ago when my whole family was in the same house together and my now teenage nieces, were six and four, they got up excruciatingly early on Christmas morning as they did many mornings at that age.  The only person up that early was dad. He's always been an early riser. 

     Beth was sleeping on the pull out couch in the living room and woke momentarily to see dad hunched over in his plaid pajamas talking to my nieces in their long pink flannel matching nighties.  

     "We're hungry grandpa. Can you give us breakfast?" Emily asked. 

     With that, grandpa reached into the cookie jar, handed them both a couple fig nutons and they all disappeared into the music room where grandpa turned on cartoons for the girls.

      When I got up, Beth told me the story. 

     "Do you think we should make them eggs or something?"

     "No, I think they're extremely happy right now. Cookies and cartoons. What could be better?"

     A recent development is dad laying out his breakfast on the counter for the next morning.  He sets out a bowl of Kellogg's frosted flakes with 2 cookies on top and a bowl turned upside down covering that so the ants don't get to it. The cookies are actually for the snack he'll have in the middle of the night with milk in a juice glass. Dad has never been a heavy sleeper and wakes up frequently in the night.  This is why his afternoon naps are so important.
     Mom has often told dad not to tempt her with the snack foods he loves which is why you'll find bunches of three musketeer mini candy wrappers in his dresser drawers or if you're really lucky like me, when you go to borrow a white T-shirt, you find a box of cinnamon doughnuts.

     Dad's sweet tooth extends to his love of cookies as well. A couple years ago during a family mall trip, dad did his favorite thing which was to find a "Cookie Nook" and purchase a chocolate chip cookie, then find a bench and read the book he brought along while nibbling on his cookie as the ladies shopped.

     I was the first to return to the bench only to find dad gone. There was a cookie wrapper left on the bench that I figured dad had forgotten to throw away.  As I picked it up, I realized he had written a note on the wrapper. 

     "Gone to the car." That was all.

     Mom has always prepared healthy, balanced, homemade meals and made an effort to make sure dad gets vegetables and fruit. And dad has made healthier food choices in more recent years. But he's never shaken his love of, what my sister calls, his "sneaky snacks."

     And no matter how hard I try to expand dad's tastes, I've accepted that while he graciously humors me, and accepts my alternative suggestions, in the end, what he would really like when he comes to Rochester is to eat at a nearby Denny's, Perkins, or any diner like joint, and order a turkey club on white bread with coffee and pie for dessert. 

     That's just fine by me. I so much enjoy the company. I'm certain to sit across from mom or dad at their restaurant of choice, order my slice of cherry pie with endless cups of coffee.