I think it was stress related.

Some sort of post traumatic sandwich stress syndrome if you will.

That’s the only reason I can explain the fact that for a certain period of my life I was uneasy with bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwiches.

It wasn’t that I disliked them when I was a kid it was the fact that whenever I found out we were having BLTs for dinner I would develop a nervous, hesitance I could never explain. Sure, I would eat a BLT but I never really enjoyed them the way I would later grow to enjoy them.

It wasn’t until I was in my teens and someone in my family mentioned how, when I was very young, my dad would get frustrated with me when we had BLTs. I was probably three or four-years-old, the story goes, and my dad would patiently build my BLT  and hand my plate to me.

Then, just as he was about to bite into his own sandwich, I would somehow manage to drop mine. Sometimes onto my plate but often onto the table and the floor. My dad would then have to put his sandwich down, pick up the pieces of mine and try to rebuild it knowing I was just going to drop it again.

My dad was not one to lose his temper much. But he was one to get frustrated occasionally and sometimes let that frustration show. Sometime like when he was trying to eat a BLT but had to stop three or four times to rebuild someone else’s BLT, for example.

See what I mean? Post traumatic sandwich syndrome.

But once I flashed back to my younger BLT days my uneasiness vanished and I became a BLT fanatic.

My wife shares my love of BLTs and whenever we’re having trouble deciding what to have for dinner one of us will eventually say, “How ‘bout BLTs?” and the dinner problem would be solved.

By the way, when asking about having BLTs for dinner, the correct way to ask is, “How ‘bout BLTs?”

In case you were wondering.

While my wife and I are willing to serve up BLTs most anytime of the year, the absolute best time to serve them is late spring and summer when we can get fresh tomatoes.

A BLT served with store-bought tomatoes is good but a BLT served with fresh tomatoes is something of the Gods. Which sort of begs a few questions: Is there a God of tomatoes?

Or BLTs?

And if there is what God or Gods would they be? And, really, when you think about it, how would a God react if he, or she, were asked to be the God of tomatoes?

Or BLTs?

Would they be insulted or honored?

I guess it would depend on the God.

Or Gods.

Before I go any further, I probably should admit my wife and I-technically speaking-don’t fix BLTs. Some years ago we decided that, although we liked lettuce, it just sort of got in the way of the essence of the tomato and the bacon.

That’s right. We dropped the “L” from the BLT. But for purpose of clarity we decided if we called BLTs “BTs” know one would know what in the world we were talking about.

Now, I’m sure, in some circles, dropping lettuce from a BLT might be considered heresy but, then again, we’re just talking about a sandwich here.

Oh, we also like to add Swiss cheese to our BLTs.

So chew on that.

Once, in Key West, Florida while on our honeymoon, my wife ordered a BLT with grilled onions.

She said it was the best part of our honeymoon.

I probably should have taken offense to that but I couldn’t.

I mean, it was a good sandwich.

When we have BLTs at home, we’re partial to marble rye bread, pepper bacon from Clouds Meat Processing here in Carthage, sliced tomatoes, Swiss cheese and, of course, Miracle Whip.

I know some people may be partial to regular mayonnaise but my wife and I come from Miracle Whip people.

By the way, mayonnaise is tough to spell.

In case you were wondering.

On Monday, when we served up BLTs, instead of using marble rye we opted for jalapeno cheese bread from the Circle E Market located five our six miles east of Carthage.

It were heaven is what it were.

And I didn’t drop my BLT.

Not even once.