Fruit of the Looms and French Onion Soup: A Christmas Tale
One of my favorite childhood memories involves equal parts holiday magic, public humiliation, and melted cheese. It was our annual Christmas shopping pilgrimage to downtown St. Louis, specifically the Famous-Barr department store—a glittering retail cathedral where dreams were sold, escalators were feared, and soup was sacred.
We’d rise before dawn, caffeinated only by anticipation, and drive south through Alton, crossing the mighty Mississippi like we were on a quest for the Holy Grail (or at least a decent sale on corduroy). Once parked, Mom would lead us around the building to admire the window displays—each one a fever dream of tinsel and animated elves. My favorite was the train display, which I could’ve watched for hours if not for the ticking clock and the stampede of shoppers charging in like bargain-hunting wild beasts.
The Santa Situation
But first: Santa. Mom insisted I get in line on the 9th floor to see the big guy. My sister Becky, older and wiser, had aged out of this charade. I, however, was still expected to sit on a stranger’s lap and pretend he wasn’t just a seasonal hire with a nicotine habit and a polyester beard.
I debated asking for an Easy Bake Oven—my true heart’s desire—but feared Santa’s judgment. So I went with a BB gun. Masculine. Mysterious. Mildly concerning.
Toyland and Tea Room Dreams
After surviving Santa’s lap and the flashbulb of shame, Becky and I explored the toy section while Mom power-shopped like a game show contestant in the final ten seconds of Supermarket Sweep. We agreed to meet at the Famous-Barr Tea Room for the culinary climax of the day: French Onion Soup. The soup. The legend. The reason we tolerated escalators and polyester Santas.
The Escalator Incident
Descending from the 9th floor, I sat on the step like a tiny rebel. At the bottom, my pants got caught between the metal teeth and the floor. The escalator screeched to a halt. Becky shrieked. A worker sprinted over. I was teary-eyed and convinced I was about to be swallowed whole by the machinery.
Becky and the worker helped me out of my pants. There I stood, in my Fruit of the Looms, coat clutched like a superhero cape, facing a crowd of stunned shoppers.
We explained to the manager that we were meeting our mother in the restaurant. He let us go, probably out of pity or fear of a lawsuit. Mom was waiting and had a ‘where have you been” look. Becky, ever the loyal sibling, blurted out the entire story. I opened my coat like a magician revealing his final trick.
The waitress cackled and said, “I hope you’re getting some jeans for Christmas!” And just like that, the tension broke. We laughed. We ordered soup. I kept my coat on.
Reflection
That day taught me a few things:
Never sit on an escalator.
Always wear good underwear.
And sometimes, the best memories are the ones that go completely off script.
Famous-Barr wasn’t just a store—it was a stage. And we were the cast in a holiday production that included polyester Santas, escalator drama, and soup so good it could redeem even the most embarrassing moments.
So here’s the recipe. May it warm your soul, melt your cheese, and remind you that laughter is the best garnish.
Famous-Barr French Onion Soup (Serves 6)
Ingredients:
5–6 cups yellow onions, thinly sliced (about 1½ to 2 lbs)
1 tbsp cooking oil
2 tbsp butter
½ tsp sugar
1 tsp salt
3 tbsp flour
6 cups beef stock
½ cup dry white wine or vermouth
Salt and pepper to taste
12 oz Swiss cheese, grated
4 oz Parmesan cheese, grated
2–3 tbsp cognac (optional, but festive)
6–8 slices French bread (1-inch thick)
4 tbsp olive oil, for drizzling
Instructions:
In a heavy-bottom pot, heat oil and butter over medium-low. Add onions and stir to coat. Cover and cook for 20 minutes until tender and translucent.
Uncover, raise heat to medium, and add sugar and salt. Stir frequently until onions are caramelized and reduced. Be patient—this can take time.
Lower heat and stir in flour. Cook 2–3 minutes until it forms a paste. Add more butter if needed.
Stir in 1 cup warm stock, scraping up the browned bits. Add remaining stock and wine. Simmer for 30 minutes.
For the croutes: Preheat oven to 325°F. Drizzle bread slices with olive oil and bake 15 minutes per side.
Season soup to taste. Ladle into ovenproof bowls, top with croutes, and pile on the cheese.
Broil until bubbly and golden. Serve hot. Pants optional.