During the late 1990s Barb and I often visited the 28th Street Coffee Shop in Eugene, Oregon. It may have been a precursor to Starbucks. I’m not sure. What I am sure of is that it was often packed. Rather than using a full-sized oven for pastries, the bake-lady used a small, counter-top oven. From that device she produced food that would make my heart stop.
During noon hour there was not a vacant chair in the place. Folks visited and often forgot they had jobs. However, the cook was watching the clock for them. And when the time was short he tossed a few garlic buds on the grill. Anyone who has experienced that scent needs no further description. Nor did the require a second reminder. In a matter of minutes the kitchen was swamped.
Ah, memories. Without them where would we be?