I’m madder than Joe Pesci in Lethal Weapon 2 over the fact that my local doughnut shop not only can’t get a order correct at the drive-thru, but they can’t even get it straight when you say it right to their face in the mother tongue, English!
Look, you all know the ol’Screecher enjoys a snack sometime between breakfast and lunch, and a lot of times that leads me to the local donut-shop-slash-ice-cream-parlor for vanilla ice cream squashed between two jelly doughnuts.
I’ve ordered it so often, you would think the guys at the shop would start shaking and baking it the second they see me roll through the door on my trusty steed Tornado. Alas, that is not the case.
I learned that the hard way this week when my lovely wife Sharon had to get surgery on her paper-thin skin. My bride of 47 years was worried sick — and had been all week a — as we pulled out of the beautiful Harway Terrace and headed to her dermatologist’s for the surgical procedure that said dermatologist demanded. But the second I hit the road I got the call on one of my six cellphones telling me the surgery had been cancelled because the doctor had to deal with an “emergency” that I assume included at least nine holes and some clubs (but most likely 18 and a three-martini lunch!)! So much for Obamacare!
I avoided Sharon’s sure-to-come kill-the-messenger barrage by suggesting we head over to the aforementioned doughnut shop to get a quick bite to eat, including at least six jelly doughnuts and two of them chicken-salad sandwiches. But when I pulled into the handicapped space in front of the store there was a big sign with a giant picture of a new steak and egg sandwich that I most certainly had to have!
Of course, they also have ice cream there, so I would have to order my standard, much to the chagrin of Sharon who to this day says I should count my calories (as if that is going to help!).
Unfortunately, placing the order wasn’t as easy as it should have been as there was a bit of a language barrier — and when I say language barrier I mean I spoke English and they didn’t!
So after about 20 minutes of trying to explain what a jelly-doughnut-ice-cream sandwich was, we gave up, grabbed what we thought was our bag of sandwiches and jelly doughnuts, paid what I noticed was a too-small amount, and got out as Nestle Quikly as we could before they realized they undercharged us.
I thought we got away with it until we got home and found out they forgot to give us the steak-and-egg sandwich! With my stomach rumbling and Sharon seeing me eying all of the six jelly donuts that she wanted to eat, she had a fit, and threatened to run back to the store and rip down the sign that got me to order the steak and egg sandwich in the first place!
When all was said and done, I remembered that I had vanilla ice cream in the ice box, so I made my own jelly-doughnut-ice-cream sandwiches (two!) and save Sharon two donuts for her dessert.
Now, as usual, I know what you’re thinking: “Carmine, how did you come up with such an ingeniously delicious sandwich and, more importantly, how come I didn’t think of it myself.”
The answer, dear reader, is 1) I didn’t; and 2) Because you are not as smart as you think. In fact, jelly-donut-ice-cream-sandwiches have been around for more than 100 years, invented before I was a kid growing up on the Lower East Side of Manhattan on Broome and Mott streets.
Back then there was an Italian bakery and candy store on every corner, and with such stiff competition the proprietors had to come up with new and exciting delectables to tease the pallets of the locals. That’s right, long before there was so fancy-schmancy “cronut,” the man who made me who I am today (Tony, from Tony’s candy store) invented the first jelly-doughnuts-ice-cream sandwich, and he made a small fortune selling it to kids like me and pregnant woman!
Well, mostly me.
Now, of course we have to reschedule the surgery and hope that when the day comes, there’s a hurricane or something, ensuring that our good doctor is in the operating room and not hitting the links!
Until then, please remember to attend the open community meeting of my group BWECC!, the Besnonhurst West End Community Council, which is a heck of a lot more real than the column you were just subjected to.
It’s on Tuesday, Nov. 25 at the beautiful twin towers of Harway Terrace. E-mail me at BWECC
Screech at you next week!