Memory check No. 1 - Fried Bologna/Boloney Sandwich

Back when we were still in Akron, we were talking with folks at dinner aabout foods of childhood that we no longer eat. I mentioned that one of the ones that fell off my list of things to eat years ago is the fried bologna, pronounced boloney, sandwich. The primary reason for that is that Del wouldn't eat bologna if you paid him, well, maybe if you paid him a lot! Early in our marriage, he explined that he had taken a bologna sandwich to school every day for twelve years, and that's enough punishment for any one person, no matter how cheap it was and how poor we were. My comment that his lunch sandwiches were not fried, and back then when no was concerned that children's lunches be kept cold and schools were not air conditioned, his bologna was room temperature by lunchtime, whatever temperature the room was, did not sway him. (Digressing, as I am apt to do, why is it we didn't all die from food poisoning?) I commented to those at the table that Del had taken me to a little hole in the wall place where he and friend Mark ate occasionally so Mark could have a bologna sandwich. I was surprised when the sandwich came on toasted Texas Toast, which should be redundant, but apparently isn't. Why isn't Texas Toast in its untoasted state called Texas bread or some such thing, but I digress, yet again. The meat itself was cut about a half inch and while warm through, was barely browned. It did come with mustard and lettuce as I had requested. People began to talk about the bologna sandwiches of their memories, and I was surprised to find that there were almost as many ways to skin that particular cat as there were people at the table. Everyone except me agreed with friend Mark that the bologna should be sliced thick, and one couple even agreed with his habit of making it with mayonnaise. The others made theirs with yellow mustard. No one remembered lettuce. One person asked why only lettuce, no tomato. Just because, is the only answer I could come up with. I was the only one who remembered making them in the Robinson way. Robinson Fried Bologna Sandwich 2 slices squishy white bread yellow mustard 2 thin slices bologna iceberg lettuce Place two slices of bologna/boloney in a skillet and cook until brown on each side. It doesn't hurt to let it get a little crunchy if you are so inclined. If you want the slices to lie flat, make cuts around the edges a little more than 1/4 inch or so in toward the center. Otherwise, just hold it down with your spatula so it won't cup and will brown pretty evenly.. Place on UNTOASTED squishy white bread that has been liberally spread with plain yellow mustard. None of that fancy stuff. Add a couple of pieces of iceberg lettuce. Again, none of that fancy stuff. The beverage of choice with a bologna sandwich, if I recall correctly, was what little girl Rosa used to call "coldfreshmilk." For once, my running together of words is not a typing error, she always said it as though it were one word. I decided after that dinner that I would try some of the foods I enjoyed as a child but no longer eat, to see if I'm missing anything. One afternoon when Del was not going to be home for dinner, I stopped after school to buy two slices of bologna and some iceberg lettuce. Once home, I set about to almost recreate the sandwich of my childhood. Almost, because I decided to use the whole wheat bread we already had instead of squishy white bread. Maybe that influenced the results, or maybe my tastes have changed, because as I ate my bologna sandwich I could not decide why it tasted so great in my memory and just okay that night. Results of first memory check: Memory: 1 Reality 0 Maybe the next food down memory lane will be potted meat. No one else mentioned that at the dinner, and I hesitated to, being a Southern country girl who will, to quote the young David, "eat things the dog won't eat." Did you ever eat potted meat?