Staying with my Grandma and Grandad was always exciting. They lived so close to the beach and having the freedom to explore on your own when you are about 10 or 11 years old made it feel like we were part of an Enid Blyton adventure. There was lots of exciting things we looked forward to when visiting our Grandparents but there was always one thing we really loved and that was Grandad’s banana sandwiches.
The morning would always start the same way. My Grandad would take his dog out at the same time every morning and I would join him with my dog. Well I would leave later than him and run to catch up with him, I’ve never been a morning person. We would walk up the cliff-top path together with the dogs frantically exploring all the smells. I did enjoy the morning walks, the smell of the country on one side, which isn’t always that pleasant, and the fresh salty air of the sea on the other… it was bliss.
After the walk we would all sit down for breakfast together. My Grandad always had worms for breakfast, well that is what he told us, it was a few years before we realised that it was actually All Bran. We would always have the same thing every morning and that was one of his magical banana sandwiches. I don’t know why they were so special but they were the best banana sandwiches I’ve ever tasted.
The bread was cut from the white crusty loaf using an electric knife. In my head I can still hear the ‘drrrrrrrrrrr’ sound of the knife cutting the bread. The bread was soft and was such a treat on it’s own. It would then be spread with real butter before sliced banana was arranged onto one of the slices of bread and the other slice placed on top. My Grandad would then take a sheet of kitchen towel and place it on to the sandwich before pushing the bread down gently so that the banana didn’t fall out when it was cut in half, again that familiar ‘drrrrrrrr’ sound from the electric knife echoed round the kitchen. We would all sit around the table together talking about the day ahead, what we would like to do and what jobs needed to be done. My sister and I wouldn’t really say much, it was rude to speak with your mouth full and we were busily eating our sandwiches as if someone was about to take them away from us. My Grandad would laugh about our obsession with his banana sandwiches but he always made sure he had bananas in when we came to stay.
I’ve tried making my banana sandwiches, using the same bread, real butter and bananas but they never taste the same, they are still nice but never exactly the same. I don’t know why I can’t make Grandad’s banana sandwiches the way he used to make them. There is only one thing I can think I am doing wrong, I must be using the wrong brand of kitchen towel!