What My Father Ate

Sardines, by the tinful. Herrings, canned, either in wine sauce or in tomato sauce. Whitefish. Lima beans which came into the house dried but which were soaked to plump up, then boiled and mashed (but not for me, if I could possibly avoid them). Potatoes in any form, but usually mashed and buttered. No chicken or lamb chops, but lots of tongue. (When I left home, I vowed never to eat tongue again, and I've kept the faith.) Chopped chicken liver. Steak, when we could afford it. Roast pork with applesauce. Delicatessen meats -- salami, baloney, corned beef, frankfurters. Baked beans, courtesy of Heinz. Apples, right down to the stem. Chocolate in any form, but especially white chocolate. Halvah, a particular favorite. Dates and figs, dried. Black radishes and onions, covered with gribbinis. Tschav, borsht with huge helpings of sour cream. Corn on the cob. No alcohol, nary a drop. On hot days, no beer, but instead iced tea or iced coffee. Cheese, either Velveeta or swiss. Good bread -- pumpernickel or rye. Crumb cake direct  from Ebinger's Bakery. Bacon and two eggs, sunnyside up or soft-boiled. Cream o' Wheat. Swee-Touch-Nee tea. On Sunday morning, bagels and rolls, warm from the oven, eaten while reading the Times (25 cents) and the Eagle (10 cents). Ice cream, the more exotic the flavor the better.