The name of the new café at Park Place Mall, “O’My Buns!” stopped me in my tracks this afternoon. When I burst out laughing, my daughter didn’t know the reason for my absolute amusement other than the clever/funny name for a bakery/coffee shop.
“We’ve got to get a photo!” I said. She wasted no time whipping out her phone and snapped the shot. She then texted it to me and I, in turn, sent it to my four siblings. I knew I wouldn’t have to explain it and they, too, would also get a good laugh.
Yes, it’s an inside family joke that I’m about to let out of the oven.
Many, many years ago when a tri-level house in Brookfield, Illinois housed a family of seven—a World War II vet and his war bride, along with their five baby-boomer children—the dining room of this cozy home held family dinners every evening and Sunday afternoon/after church dinners with Grandma joining them. Actually, I don’t remember if the setting for my story was a typical Sunday afternoon or if it was something more formal or festive like a Thanksgiving dinner. I do know my mom had, as usual, taken care of the entire meal preparation.
After filling the hot tray and the Lazy Susan will all of her efforts she was the last to sit at the table. The main course had been placed in front of Daddy, who took care of carving and who set the mood of the meal. He ruled that table. No one, for example, was allowed to leave said table before Dad took his last bite.
Unfortunately for us—a group of antsy kids—he was a very slow eater.
Well into the meal that day, suddenly a look of panic covered our mother’s face. This, by the way, was a very demure woman of few words. She was quite petite and very proper, and always exhibited impeccable table manners. Something was obviously wrong.
I’m not sure if she smelled burning food or if she simply noticed an important omission on the table, but covered in panic, she stood up and shouted, “OH MY BUNS!” Immediately, she ran from the table and into the kitchen.
Shocked, we all looked at one another as if to say, “did that just happen?” In a moment, we all cried in unison: “OH MY BUNS!” And we giggled with laughter through the rest of the meal. Even Dad thought it was very funny.
The tale of Mom’s burnt buns is one of those family stories we bring up with one another again and again. But we don’t need to go into the detail that I’ve just conveyed. All any of us has to say to one another is “Oh my buns!” and it’s like our dear sweet mother is right there with us.
That’s exactly how I felt today when I saw the sign for the new café. It was just like a little heavenly hello.
And talk about heaven, of course, I had to buy one of their original coffee buns. It was large, cost about $2.50 and Willow and I split it. The verdict? It was the most delicious bun I’ve ever eaten. Light and flavorful, it was the tastiest treat I’ve had in a long, long time.
Check it out: O’My Buns, Park Place Mall, 5870 Broadway Blvd., Tucson. It’s located next to Claire’s, just inside the North movie theater entrance.