Entenmann's and Long Island

I'm not the only in the world for whom something always reminds themselves of something else. Dan Barry, a veteran reporter for the NYT was transported back to his growing up in Deer Park, NY when he read the obit for Charles Entenmann, the last of the three sons who ran their father's and their grandfather's bakery until it was sold in 1978 To Warner-Lambert, a drug company.

Mr. Barry is of a certain age and of such seniority at the NYT that I'm sure when he read of Charles Entenmann's passing and the connection the baked goods had to his growing up, that he became his own editor and assigned the story to himself.

I posted a blog about how difficult it was, and still is, to open a box of Entenmann's. Gorilla glue is holding the flaps in place. Mr. Barry's comments about Entenmann's are far more sentimental in that the blue and white box (no cellophane window now) brings him back to his kitchen table, Mom and Dad, horror movies, and coming home from the bar and glasses of milk. Food can do that to you. Invoke all sorts of memories.

Mr. Barry slyly notes in his Valentine to Entenmann's the piece in the obit that Charlie Entenmann lived to be 91, admitting that he wasn't a dessert man, and really didn't eat the product, and that then, considering the heart stopping, artery coagulating ingredients that go into it today, it's no wonder Charlie passed 90 years of age.

On Saturday our oil burner ceased to function. The repair technician who promptly came out from Slomin's quickly diagnosed the problem and set about the replace a "collection" piece of equipment. As he and talked a bit in the attached garage (Levitt homes have no basements, being built on slabs, a whole other story.) he mentioned he's been with Slomin's for 28 years, and knew of the grandfather, stating that he would have shot the grandsons who now who run the company. Maybe. 

But the remark,  like many things in my life, made me think of something else, and I mentioned Charles Entenmann's and the 14 acre plant in Bay Shore back in the day, how Entenmann's was sold, and is now being produced by Mexican outfit, Bimbo Bakeries, that also produces Arnolds, Thomas' muffins and Sara Lee products. Bimbo apparently is the largest commercial bakery in the world.

The repairman, clearly being raised on Long Island, remembers the 14 acre Bay Shore plant, and then commented on how the taste of the product is not the same. He made a face in fact, while also making mention of how small Fig Newtons had become. I agreed with him there. He said you used to need two bites to swallow one. I said, "yeah, now it's like taking an aspirin." He got a kick out of that.

He further told me that Entenmann's was sold so often that he once asked a driver "who are working for now?" only to be told the driver didn't really know who owned the company. Mr. Barry alludes to the ownership changes that took it to a from drug company to Bimbo Bakery. The company was sold often, "with no expiration date in sight."

Clearly Entenmann's meant way more to Mr. Barry growing up that it did to me. I might have an occasional memory of a box of Entenmann's coming through the door, but my memory is more of Ebinger's and Black Out cake. We weren't a desert family, so really, baked goods were not a staple in my home.

Ebinger's was a bakery in Brooklyn that I know distributed to supermarkets in Brooklyn and Queens. They went out of business once, then were resurrected by someone, but later went out again for good. Maybe they couldn't compete with a nationally produced Entenmann's.

Mr. Barry acknowledges the taste difference in the Entenmann's products, asking out loud if polysorbate 60 can be good for you. It certainly doesn't sound like it is, but that's probably given massive intake quantities in mice.

I disagreed with the repairman's assessment of the current Entenmann's taste. Maybe because I wasn't raised on it like he and Mr. Barry, my ability to detect ingredient changes is compromised. I mentioned in my prior posting that I can easily nearly put away an entire walnut, icing-glazed coffee cake. It's dangerous in front of me. If you want any for yourself, move fast.

Mr. Barry saw a box of Entenmann's coming through the door as a sign of financial prosperity. His family apparently also smartly shopped in the Entenmann's outlet store that dealt with recently date-expired products, but ones that were still edible without the use of a hacksaw. In Flushing, we had an Arnolds commissary near us, but were not in the habit of shopping there. 

Mr. Barry admits to still enjoying the Entenmann product in moderation, and since he's is somewhere in his middle 60s, he has every chance to make 90. Or maybe 80. Eighty is the new 70.

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