Pretzel stop:
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Our first Christmas after dating, I was at MrsT’s house when her dad came home with a big tin: “Revonah pretzels! Hanover spelled backwards! Hanover, Pennsylvania! Family Christmas tradition!”
When I separated from the service, we came through here on the way to Minnesota and stopped at the bakery - this little hovel in a back alley in Hanover.
Best pretzels I’ve ever had, anywhere. You know how I brag on our German bakery pretzels in Cincy, made by a family of bakers who go back to Germany to train?
Those pretzels are awesome; these pretzels are better.
We bought a bag of heavy salted broken pieces, a bag of extra-darks broken pieces, and a soft pretzel to share.
We just sat in the alley, ripping off hunks of salty, warm, yeasty soft pretzel, and it was so good, MrsT started to cry.
“God, I love this place!”
“That, darlin’, is why we’re not moving to Florida; I’ve never seen you shed a tear over Florida!”