From the author: The grandson refuses ice cream. And he doesn’t like chocolate. But the simple things that were in my childhood, he will surely like it, I’m sure. After all, he does not even know about the favorite delicacies of children who were small a long time ago.
Fresh bread crust
It is impossible to hold on and not bite. Until now, when I buy bread at the bakery, I gnaw off the corners. The taste of a well-browned crust will surely be remembered by all my peers. Gnawed bricks of bread are a common occurrence, children were not even scolded.
I went to buy bread at 8-30. At this time, a car came from the bakery. Lessons started at 9-00. I had to hurry up: buy bread, bite off corners of a warm, fragrant “half-white” one on the way for 16 kopecks, bring purchases to my grandmother, grab a briefcase – and go to school.
Bread with vegetable oil and salt
Our yard was closed and spacious. Therefore, it was impossible to drive the children home, especially on weekends. The adults were even happy that we didn’t get in the way during Saturday cleaning.
You can’t get away from the game – the most interesting thing will happen without me. And to my mother’s cry: “Home! Lunch!” you answer: “Mom, well, a little more!”. You get so hungry that your stomach sticks to your spine – and then Mom takes out a large plate with slices of bread outside.
Black, fragrant. The bread was poured with sunflower oil on top. Thus, fragrant, which smelled like seeds. And on top of the butter was salted with coarse salt.
The oiled chunks disappeared instantly. We also asked for supplements. And with renewed vigor they continued the endless pursuit of the robbers of the Cossacks.
Cockerels on a stick
So I didn’t like them. And Vitka, my neighbor, could gobble up 3 pieces at once. His grandmother told him: “Probably, that’s why your mouth is so big – you immediately stuff a whole rooster into it!” In the same way, modern kids suck Chupa Chups.
Vitka was preparing his favorite delicacy at home. I melted the granulated sugar in a spoon and poured it onto a greased plate. Once I ruined my grandfather’s cupronickel spoon – weighty, with a patterned handle. Wow, he got it!
Father brought boiled fir resin from Abakan. Bitter, pine-scented, viscous. We tried and decided – real gum, only savory.
When the fir resin ran out, they again returned to the cherry. Cherries grew right in the yard, but there was only one apricot – in the garden of a harmful neighbor, so apricot resin was mined at night, secretly.
There was also tar. But I won’t tell my grandchildren about this.
Boiled condensed milk
There were streaks on the ceiling of our kitchen for a long time, visible through several layers of paint. And on the linoleum was a burned-out circle from the bottom of a pan.
Everyone loved boiled condensed milk. Thick, brown, it was spread on top of butter on a loaf – it turned out to be a cake.
It took about 3 hours to cook the jar. On that day, the movie “The meeting place cannot be changed” was shown on TV. Everyone, holding their breath, watched Zheglov and Sharapov when the explosion crashed. The water boiled away, the can exploded. There was no one to blame, because everyone was at home. The dessert is gone.
We were allowed to burn branches and twigs in the yard. We brought potatoes to the fire and buried them in the coals when the wood burned out. We had to wait about half an hour. Every minute they dug up the ashes and poked them into the potatoes with a sharp stick to see if they were baked.
Fiery potatoes in a thick crust of ash disappeared instantly. She was thrown from hand to hand – hot! Dooley, grimacing, stained their faces, and swallowed, in my opinion, without really chewing.
We need to check if it was as tasty as I remember. It’s time to start a fire in the garden. Bake potatoes with grandchildren. And they don’t even know what it is.