Reminiscing

You may think this thread is going in circles or it’s fallen in a hole but I think it’s sweet. Enough of that I believe. While traveling down those dusty mental paths a REALLY old path appeared. I’ll have to rely on Orland to correct any mistaken recollections and I’m sure there are some. Memory tends to adjust and enhance our preferences or our fears. There once was a full bakery in old Bunker Hill. I don’t mean a doughnut shop but everything baked from a simple loaf of bread to what certainly were the most exotic baked good I had ever cast my eyes on at the time. That isn’t really saying much because if it weren’t a piece of sliced bread, pie, simple cake or ofcource a “cathead biscuit”- don’t ask me why my Dad called them that unless it had something to do with my mothers preparation of them (chuckle). Schreiber or something close or at least akin to that was the family name. I remember the smells emitted that reached out into the street. I rend to believe that I was first exposed to these senses and smells at a very early age. A health inspector today would have immediately shut the place down due to wooden floors etc. Walking into the bakery was exciting thing for me at that age. I’d never been or seen anything like that. All those goodies and the smell of baking going on was almost overload for a youngster with my background. As I recall the product was excellent but then I didn’t have much experience in such things and I don’ think we ever brought anything out except for doughnuts and rarely if the budget would allow some “shoe soles” (what we called flat pastry dough with cinnamon and sugar baked on the top). I really can’t say that those were the days but it’s nice to go back for a brief visit once in a while. For now I think there’s a doughnut left. . .