I had done most of my growing up before then in Upstate New York. Being a long distance from Philadelphia, scrapple was not much of a known food up there. I was completely oblivious.
Then I slept over at a good friend's house. I woke up the next morning and walked into the kitchen to this delicious smell. My friend's dad -- Mr. Moore -- was standing in front of the stove with a smile on his face.
If I'd known then what I know now, I probably would have at least mentally documented this moment. But you don't know what you don't know, and I certainly didn't think something named "scrapple" was going to be any good.
From the first bite I was devoted. It didn't take long before I was desperate to get scrapple any chance I got.
"What do you mean you don't have scrapple? How can you call yourself a 'diner?!'"
It also didn't take me long to realize not all scrapple is created equal. And not in the brand sense, but understanding how important it is for your slice of scrapple to be cripsy on the outside and soft in.
I have been shouting about scrapple from the moutain tops since (though usually just from diner booths, kitchens and on scrapple Facebook pages.)
So how about you? Do you remember your first taste of scrapple? Tell us about it in the comments.