Dudster, there are so many memories, and I have all of November to post one each day.
Remember how we used to take our bikes and ride around the block on those warm summer evenings in our neighborhood? We lived in an area called 'Vanak'. Our homes were one story flat-roof bungalow houses, four or five attached in a row. The summer evenings were the best time ever.
How excited we would get when we'd see the guy drive up the street in his run-down moped. An old rusty little charcoal grill was strapped to his bike and a dirty tin bucket dangled from it. He was selling corn-on-the-cob.
He'd set up shop on the sidewalk. First he unloaded his little square grill, which he had probably hammered himself. It wasn't more than a deep metal tray with holes punched in the bottom for ventilation standing on four legs. The tray was filled with some charcoal, a few pieces he put in a strange round contraption like a bowl on a chain. Those few pieces were lit up first and then he would swing that bowl around in circles by the chain until the coal was glowing red. He added those pieces to the rest of the coal on his grill and it functioned like starter fluid.
He unwrapped the ears of corn and removed the husk. The leaves were kept on the side for the hot cobs to be wrapped in later on. The corn was placed directly on the hot red coal and turned by hand. Oh man, it smelled so good. They were ready when the kernels turned really golden and and started popping, just like pop-corn. Now that tin bucket had been filled with salt water and God knows what had been in the bucket before and where the hell he got the water from. But that's where the corn was dunked into, to give it the salty taste and wow, was that ever good. We kids would sit on the sidewalk watching and waiting for the first batch to be ready. Neighbors would come out of their homes and gather around, eating and talking and enjoying the cool evening after a hot summer day. Those were the careless days.
Note: (I rewrote this post from 2006, it will add to my collection of memories)