Edible Memory

The Cotuit Fresh Market Breakfast Sandwich

Food is powerful. It sustains life, but moreover it can bring joy; it can salve wounds both emotional and physical. It can make you giggle or recoil in disgust. It can also unlock a memory from a time long since passed. Memory triggers occur through all five of the senses, but taste can be particularly strong. Perhaps it’s because, to truly enjoy food, the other senses play critical roles. The familiar crinkle of the aluminum wrap as a seemingly innocuous sausage, egg and cheese breakfast sandwich is unsheathed. The sight of the sandwich with its delicately griddled english muffin, egg, sausage and melted cheese (some of which has crept onto the wrapping) gives way to the aroma that fires off the salivary glands and a low grumble from below. It is that first bite, that first taste, however, that transports you. It hits like a flash, and you’re no longer sitting in your truck at a town boat ramp down the street from The Cotuit Fresh Market where you just picked up your snack. A raw, windswept rain isn’t pelting your truck, and you’re not staring down fifty. You’re seventeen years old with a world of possibilities in front of you, and working for your father’s construction company transforming the old Cotuit Inn on Main Street into ten condominiums. It’s a hot midsummer day and you’ve just returned from “The Coop” (as Cotuit Fresh Market is lovingly referred to) up the street with the crew’s coffee break orders…the sausage, egg and cheese being a popular item.

With each bite you slowly drift deeper into the warmth of the memory, gazing at it through a finer lens. You’re sitting on the unfinished third floor deck of one unit that overlooks Cotuit Bay. Murph is regaling the group with his latest exploits from the previous night at Pufferbellies, The Mill Hill Club or maybe Guido Murphy’s. Another bite, and you’re down at Loop Beach while on lunch break. One more, and you’re kicking back at the end of the day sipping on that one beer the old man will let you have with the rest of the guys. And then, he’s there. Big as life and commanding a respect and reverence from a crew of grizzled contractors that have seen their share of bosses come and go. He is the man with the plan, the answers to the questions and the solutions to all problems. He strides with a confidence that makes him an impressive and imposing man. I’m never more in awe of him than here in his milieu. Amidst the clamor of the construction site with the smell of turned-over soil and fresh-cut lumber, his booming laugh rises above the din of nail guns and compressors. There is no place Dad would rather be, and I’m glad to see him here again. Before the inevitable decline saps the strength and erodes the will. A band of rain taps at the window, and I’m back.

What is it about this sandwich that triggers such an absorbing memory? Is it the spice of the sausage or the texture of the english muffin softened by the steam coming off the meat and egg? At Cotuit Fresh Market (or The Coop), they are delicious and even better when they’ve had a chance to sit in the warm grab-and-go case for a bit and the flavors can coalesce. The Coop has been on Main Street in Cotuit since 1863. It’s been a ship chandlery, hardware store, grocery store and deli. It remains that charming local store where you pick up a few essentials, whether it be a vegetable to go with dinner, a quart of milk and some eggs to make your own breakfast, a freshly made sandwich or salad to take with you out to the beach or a hot, hearty cup of coffee and a still-warm baked pastry, muffin or scone to go with it. While there’s no secret recipe to follow when making a sausage, egg and cheese breakfast sandwich, owner Seth Burdick does confirm the same griddle has been in use since the 1980s. Perhaps that’s it. The equipment is imparting a flavor that elicits this vivid remembrance. There are places, like The Coop, where you step back in time when you set foot on the creaky wood floors inside. For some of us, you can personalize the journey with a sandwich.