Carol Lee Pankey leans over to me, see we’re both trapped in grade school at the time, she’s beautiful, I’m not, and she says something like  “Someone’s had garlic for supper”.

Now, I’m confused, why she’s even looking in my direction anyway, startles me like a gazelle on a plain and I’m not even sure I know what garlic might be.

But every so often, generally a Sunday night, that being the only time we had together, away from the business, Pop would round up the family and maybe the Moony family and we’d go to Shakey’s in Bend for beer and pizza.

Now, that was a miracle sent down from heaven; bread, tomato sauce, meat, molten cheese all served up to eat with your hands, dimly lit and sticky floors.

As far as I can remember Shakey’s was the first, no one had ever seen anything like it. Sure, we had ethnic food, if you were to call what passed as Chinese here at the time, ethnic. I don’t remember the Chinese cooks in our restaurant particularly fond of Chop Suey or Egg Foo Yung.

In any event time went by, pizza joints became as prevalent as pennies in the street and Shakey’s went away.

I have, however, discovered garlic, ginger as well and the magical properties of food as a lure to the human heart.


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