Glad Tidings: Maple Syrup redeemed and Oysters, 24/7

Glad Tidings: Maple Syrup redeemed and Oysters, 24/7

By Fred Bruning

Dec. 17, 2023

     Just when we needed it most there is exceptional news – upbeat, apolitical and, of all things, arriving from the world of good eats.

     This is not a surprise announcement that swank city places like Per Se (tasting menu, $400 after tax) or the midtown sushi emporium, Masa, where the discriminating patron easily can run up a $1,000 tab, have re-entered Earth orbit and allowed a steep holiday price cut.

     Fat chance, if you’ll pardon the expression.

     Nor has it suddenly come to pass that quart bottles of Hoffman cream soda are back in stores or that Ebinger’s bakery has reappeared on Fifth Avenue in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn, between 69^th Street and Ovington Avenue.

     Oh, that would be something.

     With Hoffman’s cream we would make floats by adding scoops of Breyer’s vanilla – a special treat that might be intended to make up for (but what could?) a dinner of pinklewurst and kale, or liver and onions or, fried smelts, favored by my father who insisted they “ran” only once a year and we had better quickly eat as many as possible.

     Ebinger’s is another story. The beloved bakery is mythical – huge -- in the minds of Brooklyn old-timers.

On Saturday, the line often was out the door and a plump boy waiting his turn could only hope shoppers would not have claimed every crumb bun, jelly roll, filled almond coffee ring and – ah! – chocolate layer cake ordered by his parents, grandmother and aunts (all in the same three-story apartment house).

     “Yes, dear?” the lovely, dark-haired bakery worker in crisp uniform might say.

     And the hefty, little fellow would rattle off the list and the pretty counter clerk would box and tie and bag his purchases, and off he would go, two blocks home, where maybe one of the adults would say, “how about we sample just a taste of coffee cake?”

      But let’s get back to the breaking news.

      The first glad tidings come from way up north in cool, civilized Canada.

     Aghast upon learning that many American breakfast spots charge for pure maple syrup, the Canadians have galloped like Sgt. Preston to the rescue.

      According to a full-page ad in the New York Times, an outfit called billthemaple.com is prepared to atone for the odious syrup surcharge. Proceed to the website, enter an image of the check and – bingo -- a grave injustice soon will be addressed. (Offer lasts only until the end of December. Even the Canadians have limits.)

      For me, the gesture is deeply moving.

      I am a maple syrup militant – someone who carries in his L.L. Bean fleece vest a tiny plastic jug for deployment when my short stack and one scrambled egg arrive at the local diner.  The Canadians understand this sort of passion. It makes me wonder, again, why we haven’t made them a state.

     One more reason for cheer?  Oysters.

     A company in Greenport, that dreamy little outpost on the North Fork of Long Island that maintains its charm despite having been discovered by the entire East Side of Manhattan, has installed an oyster vending machine. Mollusks on demand.

     “You can go in the middle of the night, if you want to,” Stefanie Bassett, co-owner of Little Ram Oyster Co., tells Newsday.  Available are bags of 25 unshucked or pint jars of shucked, 35 bucks. Another $10 gets you a container of Little Ram’s bang-bang sauce with Thai chiles.  Credit cards accepted.

     And isn’t this the great thing about America?  Here, if you want an oyster at three in the morning, brothers and sisters, you can have an oyster – at least if you happen to be in Greenport. Patience a virtue? Don’t be silly. Dive in.

I am thinking now of my own oyster interludes – a delicious dozen at a downtown restaurant in Seattle, plump and fried at a honky-tonk in Atlanta, but nothing more glorious than a late night medley at Pepe’s on Caroline Street in Key West.

   “One more round,” said my wife, Wink, after we finished a plate of baked beauties – Florentine, Mexican Roast, Worcestershire-Parmesan.       

    Mmm.  Key West, warm breezes, oysters on the half shell. Could be, a bottle of beer.

    Thanks to the Canadians and Greenport folks for summoning such happy memories.  Even so, I’m still not over Ebinger’s.