An orange at Christmas was a special treat in England during the war. Years later, seeing the first boxes of Mandarin oranges appearing in grocery stores in the weeks before Christmas never failed to get him excited. He took great care as he peeled the first Mandarin of the season, separated the segments, and popped them, one at a time, into his mouth. He closed his eyes and sighed with pleasure, savouring the juicy morsels.
Bananas were another treat he never took for granted. They were so precious when he was young that he could never bring himself to eat a whole one, feeling that to be decadent. Instead, he ate no more than half at a time, not by chomping it down like I have been known to do.
After cutting it in half and setting aside the second half for later, he sliced the banana and slathered two pieces of bread with butter. He carefully arranged the pieces of banana on one slice of bread so it was evenly covered. After liberally sprinkling the banana slices with sugar (white sugar back in the day and brown sugar later in life when he was trying to eat more healthily), he then carefully placed bread slice number two on top and pressed everything together so nothing was likely to fall out. After cutting the sandwich into neat quarters, he then enjoyed his banana and sugar sandwich with a cup of coffee (instant, with two teaspoons of sugar and a healthy dollop of milk).
I love bananas no matter how they are served up - my Omi made fabulous banana pancakes with slices of banana embedded in the batter. Banana bread works for me, as does a banana mushed up in a smoothie. Not Dad, though. It was a banana sugar sandwich or nothing.