A Disappointing Banana Split – Dr. Ed Iannuccilli
Monday, May 24, 2021
A beach-like summer day last week triggered my wish for a healthy helping of ice cream on a sugar cone at some nearby parlor. I also had a knee-jerk sit-at-the-counter reflex for the banana split, another favorite treat of years ago. Savoring a banana split was right up there with waffles, drumsticks and Creamsicles, not at the counter, but rather at the truck from the ice cream man.
Some years ago, I said to my wife, Diane, that one evening for supper I wanted to have something I hadn’t had in years — the good old-fashioned banana split. A few days later, on a scorching summer day, the urge came and off we went to the Newport Creamery.
There I would recommit to the split at a necessary counter seat. I straddled the red stool, and with an urge to go three-sixty, but whirled just a few one-eighties as I eagerly awaited the waitress. “Need a menu?”
GET THE LATEST BREAKING NEWS HERE -- SIGN UP FOR GOLOCAL FREE DAILY EBLAST“No, thank you. I know what I want. A banana split. Vanilla, chocolate and strawberry ice creams . . . pineapple, strawberry and chocolate toppings . . . whipped cream, walnuts and a maraschino cherry; the full boat, please.” Ah, the banana boat.
In the summer of 1904, David Strickler, a druggist’s apprentice at Tassell Pharmacy in Latrobe, PA, and the inventor of the banana split, split a banana from stem to stern, laid it on a dish and heaped three scoops of ice cream between the halves. He topped the ice cream with marshmallow, pineapple slices, crushed nuts, cherries, and sweet syrups and dubbed his grand creation a “banana split sundae.”
To display his banana split, Strickler designed long, narrow banana boats.
“Here comes my boat!” I sat straight, tucked a napkin into my shirt, looked at my treat and picked up my spoon. The boat seemed smaller, but everything was there, I thought. Diane looked at my supper and then at me. With a puzzled look, she asked, “Where are your bananas?” I looked more closely. There were no bananas!
I stopped whirling, tapped the spoon on the end of the dish, raised my hand and summoned the young lady. Bubbly, she bounced along with a smile on her face and a spring in her step.
“Yes, how can I help?”
“Right. Yeah. Uhhh, I haven’t had a banana split in a long time, but I am sure there should be bananas in it. They still do that, right?” Diane gently grabbed my arm as I squirmed, ready to stand and shout, “Where are my bananas!”
“Oh, my goodness’” the waitress said, still beaming. “That’s the second time this week I forgot the bananas. I’ll be right back.” She returned with a dish full. I carved the lonely bananas with my spoon and mixed them into the ice creams. It wasn’t the same.
As I was leaving, I met an old friend sitting at the counter. “Like bananas, do you, Ed? I see you asked for more.”
“Oh yeah. Bananas. Love ’em”
Dr. Ed Iannuccilli is the author of three popular memoirs, “Growing up Italian; Grandfather’s Fig Tree and Other Stories”, “What Ever Happened to Sunday Dinner” and “My Story Continues: From Neighborhood to Junior High.” Learn more here.
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