My Grandpa John loved lady fingers. He lived out at the Oregon Coast and would drive all the way to the Home Baking Company in Astoria, Oregon for cinnamon toast and lady fingers. I remember his big worn hands delicately holding lady fingers and nibbling on them with his pinky in the air, always with a smile.
As I rolled down the produce isle at the grocery store, I got to the end cap with strawberries and there was a package of lady fingers. I smiled, thought of my Grandpa, and decided to grab them.
