During my growing-up years on Boston’s North Shore, I’d never heard of Taco Bell. The chain had not yet made its way to our neck o’ the woods.
A taste of childhood remains—well, will remain, until next weekend—the chop suey sandwich sold by Salem Lowe. Unlike Taco Bell, with 8000 franchised locations, Salem Lowe comprises exactly one shop. Located in a tiny, run-down seaside amusement park called Salem Willows—between E.W. Hobbs (selling popcorn and roasted peanuts since in 1897) and the long-closed Fun House ride—Salem Lowe has sold Chinese and American food for over a century. It closes its doors next weekend.
Among the pepper steak, onion steak, and tender steak with cheese sandwiches, the menu has always included the chicken chop suey sandwich. Picture a slightly gelatinous blob of cooked bean sprouts and small cubes of chicken ladled onto a white Nissen hamburger roll and wrapped in paper. Best to eat it with a fork. Back in 2009 the price was $1.76. Now it’s somewhere around $2.50.
But really, the sandwich is priceless. Like Proust’s madeleine, and your burrito supreme, it brings back memories. Of long-ago summer nights with my late father, tucking into a chop suey sandwich while looking out from small cove to the Atlantic Ocean. Then buying a bag of roasted peanuts from E.W. Hobbs and walking the pier, talking to folks casting for flounder and mackerel and seeing the harbor tour boat tied up alongside. Hearing stories of my father’s childhood, when he and his family would come by streetcar to Salem Willows to escape the heat of downtown Peabody. And, if finances permitted, to enjoy a chop suey sandwich from Salem Lowe and stare out at the sea.
I miss my father. And I’ll miss Salem Lowe. Not because it makes anybody’s “best of” lists among North Shore restaurants. But because that unique offering, the chop suey sandwich, brings back my dad, and my younger me, and those warm summer nights by the sea.
The flavor of my history. Hmmm. I'm soon to be 75, but I remember being 5 as if it were yesterday. When I was a kid, we left NYC for Levittown, but visited 106 Pinehurst Ave., Apt. C 35, my Mom's Aunt Katherine's, every chance we could. Somehow, whatever Aunt Katherine made for me to eat, I loved and remember. Even now, seven decades later, when I put grape jelly and cream cheese on top of a Saltine cracker, close my eyes, and eat it, I'm immediately transformed back to our Washington Heights apartment and Aunt Katherine's kitchen table.
During my growing-up years on Boston’s North Shore, I’d never heard of Taco Bell. The chain had not yet made its way to our neck o’ the woods.
A taste of childhood remains—well, will remain, until next weekend—the chop suey sandwich sold by Salem Lowe. Unlike Taco Bell, with 8000 franchised locations, Salem Lowe comprises exactly one shop. Located in a tiny, run-down seaside amusement park called Salem Willows—between E.W. Hobbs (selling popcorn and roasted peanuts since in 1897) and the long-closed Fun House ride—Salem Lowe has sold Chinese and American food for over a century. It closes its doors next weekend.
Among the pepper steak, onion steak, and tender steak with cheese sandwiches, the menu has always included the chicken chop suey sandwich. Picture a slightly gelatinous blob of cooked bean sprouts and small cubes of chicken ladled onto a white Nissen hamburger roll and wrapped in paper. Best to eat it with a fork. Back in 2009 the price was $1.76. Now it’s somewhere around $2.50.
But really, the sandwich is priceless. Like Proust’s madeleine, and your burrito supreme, it brings back memories. Of long-ago summer nights with my late father, tucking into a chop suey sandwich while looking out from small cove to the Atlantic Ocean. Then buying a bag of roasted peanuts from E.W. Hobbs and walking the pier, talking to folks casting for flounder and mackerel and seeing the harbor tour boat tied up alongside. Hearing stories of my father’s childhood, when he and his family would come by streetcar to Salem Willows to escape the heat of downtown Peabody. And, if finances permitted, to enjoy a chop suey sandwich from Salem Lowe and stare out at the sea.
I miss my father. And I’ll miss Salem Lowe. Not because it makes anybody’s “best of” lists among North Shore restaurants. But because that unique offering, the chop suey sandwich, brings back my dad, and my younger me, and those warm summer nights by the sea.
The flavor of my history. Hmmm. I'm soon to be 75, but I remember being 5 as if it were yesterday. When I was a kid, we left NYC for Levittown, but visited 106 Pinehurst Ave., Apt. C 35, my Mom's Aunt Katherine's, every chance we could. Somehow, whatever Aunt Katherine made for me to eat, I loved and remember. Even now, seven decades later, when I put grape jelly and cream cheese on top of a Saltine cracker, close my eyes, and eat it, I'm immediately transformed back to our Washington Heights apartment and Aunt Katherine's kitchen table.