Column: Emergency rations
The news this week of the passing of Entenmann’s bakery mogul Charles E. Entenmann evoked memories of blue and white boxes of confections that were standard — actually rigorously consistent — fare in Long Island families.
Although the bakery, founded by William Entenmann in the late 1900s, was based in Bay Shore and sold in 1978, the Entenmann family long had a presence on the North Fork. Their 205-acre site known as “Big E Farm” — with a sign bearing its trademark “E” logo visible from North Road — was purchased four decades ago by Robert Entenmann, grandson of the founder, who transformed it from a potato farm to a horse farm and eventually added a vineyard named Martha Clara after his mother.
The vineyard, now named RGNY, is run by the Rivero Gonzalez family from Mexico who purchased the “Big E” in 2018.
Charles Entenmann was the last baking member of the family, who oversaw the automation of operations, before the company was sold to a pharmaceutical company, which closed the Bay Shore plant in 2014. Today, the owner is Bimbo Bakeries USA — what can I say — which has kept the iconic Entenmann’s logo and popular products (although for some silly reason offering them in smaller servings).
Right now, my mind’s eye is zooming in like a drone to our Westmoreland kitchen, where a box of Entenmann’s Crumb Cake, has for decades held its particular place of honor at one end of a counter.
It wasn’t called crumb cake in that house (which had its own name, Twillowe Cove); it was known to anyone who lived or visited there as “Emergency Rations.” It was dubbed that by my father, in a way that assured anyone sampling the cake that it was not a sugary treat, but essential to keep body and soul together.
The box, and the cake, had a constant companion in that kitchen. It was a knife, one that was always kept in the box, encouraging the next person to help themselves. The knife was a well-worn piece of a sterling set passed down to my mother from her parents, keeping a silent but powerful connection to the past.
To be honest, Entenmann’s was a milder version of the wonderfully rich buttery Ebinger’s confections we had grown up with in Brooklyn. Back then, our mother actually bought us cream puffs and eclairs to help us gain weight. (Those were the days, my friend.) Just thinking about the Ebinger’s boxes and the string that tied them is enough to spur tears of nostalgia — if not salivary tsunamis.
And Entenmann’s stood in a line between Ebinger’s and the pinnacle of pastry, Briermere’s pies. Those supreme creations of fruits, cream and perfect crusts are well worth standing in line at the busy Riverhead fruit stand. From apple crumb to chocolate cream, to what I consider the queen of pies, the fresh peach-blueberry-cream only available in summer — I think I gained 10 pounds just typing those words.
It would be a sacrilege in our family not to stop at Briermere for three or four pies, at least, to please everyone, and of course, an apricot square to fortify you for the rest of the trip to the Island.
For the Emergency Rations, you needed only visit the familiar aisles of the IGA to restock the kitchen. Its familiar and comforting blend of sugar, cinnamon, butter and more sugar beckoned everyone, from toddlers to adults, including neighbors like the late gifted doctor and beloved friend Vincent DiGregorio, who’d wander down the road and invariably gravitate toward that end of the kitchen.
Despite being an aficionado of fine foods and wines, he delighted in the homey treat, eventually yielding to its call and stocking it in his own house.
These days, when the blue-and-white box with its cellophane window offering a glimpse of the cake appears on the counter, it brings along fond memories of those we shared it with through the years. The knife is there — pick it up and cut yourself a square, from the crisp edge or the soft center, as you prefer.
Then leave it there to help the next person weather their emergency.
