REEK OF LEEKS: With the coming of leek season, Duke Center author Bill Robertson shared this timely tale.
The story is from his most recent book, “More Stories from the Olden Days,” about growing up during the 1950s and ’60s in Bradford.
“The Reek of Leeks”
As soon as the snow melted from the woods in early April, Dad and I grabbed shovels and went leek digging. Our favorite spot was along Lewis Run Creek because the hillsides there teemed with the “little stinkers.” After we unearthed the leeks, we drove to nearby Kennedy Springs to clean them.
Leeks tasted best when they first sprouted from the ground. They were at their hottest then and weren’t woody like after they’d grown tall in May. Our favorite way to eat them was in a sandwich made of Colella Italian bread smeared with butter. They were also great cooked in omelets or with ham. We kids, though, preferred eating them raw because they made our breath stinky.
And stinky breath provided a great weapon for a scamp like me. I’d chomp leeks Saturday night if I wanted to miss Sunday school, or I’d eat whole handfuls to bug my sister when she was in her princess phase. I’d continue to breathe on her until she, too, would have to eat leeks to escape my stench. I never did understand why Jill couldn’t smell me after she’d munched them herself.
My cousin, Wade Robertson, and I figured that eating leeks could also get us out of school. On a day we wanted to go fishing, we gobbled some down on the morning bus. Afterward, we trooped joyfully off to homeroom to add our odor to the reek of old tennis shoes and girls’ strangling hairspray.
Wade and I edged up to our snobby teacher. We purposely sat next to his desk to burp out a noxious cloud. A cheerleader gagged in protest, but not one word of rebuke escaped Mr. S’s throat. Next, we laughed really loud at our own jokes and blew our breath directly on him. Instead of kicking us out like we hoped, he simply rose and opened the nearest window. Afterward, he ignored a girl’s complaints about us while he corrected a stack of papers. With a defeated air, we returned to our assigned seats in the back of the room.
When the bell finally released us to first period, our teacher flashed Wade and me a wry smile as we stomped dejectedly past him into the hall. Then, I realized why he hadn’t shipped us to the office to be sent home. He had come to hate us more than the reek of leeks.
