Hot Dog! Childhood Memories of Verona Park

Each of us has a private, nostalgic universe—that combination of sight, sound texture, smell, and taste that informs our memories.  I say "private" because it is impossible for another person to share our experience, even simultaneously, let alone after the fact, because our personalities and biases shape what is ultimately stored as memory.

Impossible as it may be to share an exact memory, there is a place that is special enough to conjure what my Comestaccomplice termed a "near-memory experience."

Verona Park in Verona, New Jersey was my boyhood haunt.  Nearly every day during the warm months, my grandmother and I made the long walk thither from my house in West Orange.  On the occasion of my recent visit to my childhood home, however, we drove.  As we followed the familiar old path to my little paradise, my friend marveled at how much ground my little legs were willing—nay, eager—to traverse to reach the park.  This alone conveyed the idea that Verona Park had to be very special.

When we arrived, my friend understood how heavenly this place must have been for a small child, with its variety of features to explore: a lovely lake with wetlands, inlets, an island and waterfalls; a playground; a bridge; a fort with a dungeon (or, in grownups' parlance, a bandstand).  My friend dug deeply into her five-year-old self to see this place through my young eyes.  The emotions from her own nostalgic venues were easily accessible as she immersed herself here.  For the rest of our sojourn at Verona Park, she was able to remain in that child's shoes, and experience it as I might have.  Contributing to the magic of this experience was that very little had changed in the decades since my childhood.

Of all the things that had not changed, or hadn't much changed, was the concession stand and the superior hot dog that it offers.  When I was a lad, the snack bar was situated inside the boathouse.  One could eat inside, or enjoy the food outside on the deck overlooking the lake.  Today the concession stand faces out to the deck, and the boathouse interior is closed.  It was a very busy day, yet there were plenty of spots available at the long picnic tables alongside the water's edge.

Consistent with the crowds was quite a wait for our franks (there's an ample menu, but no reason to order anything else).  Finally, they were handed to us across the counter … my Comestaccomplice could hardly contain her disappointment.  It took only one whiff of the hot dog's aroma and a glance at its crackly skin to realize that ordering just one had been a serious mistake.  Two or three would have been much wiser.

The hot dog's appearance—fine as it was—could only hint at just how good it actually tasted.  The grilled skin offers a gratifying snap as one bites into it.  The juice inside is just enough to keep the meat moist without it running down one's chin.  The flavors meld perfectly: good quality beef is blended with just the right amount of salt and savory spicing, and encased in that snappy skin with its slight charred flavor.

It is rare that as adults we can revisit a favorite childhood experience and even find it still enjoyable.  It's truly special when a visit down memory lane is not only pleasant, but measures up to our inner child's expectations.  Amazingly, the hot dog was exactly as I remembered it—how truly remarkable after all these years.  What a treat it was to share such a delectable old memory.

Verona Park

Bloomfield & Lakeside Avenues
Verona, N.J.   07044   (map)

http://www.essex-countynj.org/
http://www.veronapark.org/

By bus: 29 (Bloomfield Avenue)

Comments

[Comestiblog]

Thanks, Tangled Noodle. It's comforting to know that there's still a place where my childhood memories remain alive. As you've undoubtedly surmised, this story was intended to be posted on Memorial Day.

[Tangled Noodle]

Thank you for sharing this! This is absolutely the kind of connection that fascinates me. Even though Commestaccomplice (love this moniker!) wasn't directly involved in your childhood memory, there was something instinctively shared. I felt the same way when I posted about my husband's memories of his grandmother's cornmeal mush - I wasn't there but I somehow knew what the feeling was like.

As you said, it's rare that we can revisit our childhood experiences - I'm so happy for you that it was a return that only reinforced, and did not diminish, such wonderful memories. Even better that you were able to share it with someone special!