Tripe and Stewed Onions

Having, as he had, lockjaw, his granddad wasn’t fond of hard candies and lollies. Had he a choice, which he claimed he hadn’t, for a variety of reasons, the least of which was God having chosen him as one of the unchosen, he would spend his days chewing on molasses toffee and cowbell mints, both of which he bought from a dreary-faced shop owner who sold penny candies and luncheon meat, anything else, like dried goods or produce, one had to buy from the Greek deli down the street, who provided a wider selection of groceries. The Greek deli sold the following, olive oil, both virgin and extra virgin, olives, black and green, lamb, in shanks and kebobs, baklava, with honey and sesame seeds and without, Turkish coffee, as the Greeks are not well known for coffee, flat bread and not so flat bread, such as 7-grain and oatmeal molasses, in buns, scones and loaves, Plato Chips, vinegar and plain, Ariosto ice-cream, vanilla and walnut swirl, Gala apples, baby potatoes, carrots, by the bunch, beetroot and cardamom. The alms man’s granddad had no time for lollygagging and jawbone fester, as the jawbone was the hinge that moved the world. Fester, blain, rankle and anything that came wrapped in its own viscera was unsanitary, as were tripe balls and stewed onions. The alms man’s granddad avoided stomach lining and gall, and when in a turnip, things that were oily or hard to swallow. Nothing riled the alms man’s granddad more than a cheapskate. Likewise he had no fondness for gin hounds, but would put up with a sot over a double-crosser, as a sot was easier to wrestle to the ground and stomp, should the need presented itself. He believed uppercuts and strong-arming were permitted in a donnybrook, even if it resulted in one, either or all of the combatants loosing a mouthful of teeth or an eye.