Many of us tri-state area Jews have fond memories of summer camp. We’re shipped off into the middle of nowhere Pennsylvania to learn how to fend for ourselves. Being peer pressured into pulling pranks, lighting firecrackers, smoking weed and of course, going on bunk raids to steal all the girls bras and proudly display for the world to see. Indian Head Camp provided me with plenty of firsts, most of which involved an education in the female anatomy. In between over the shirt boobie grabs and quick, awkward saliva exchanges, there was one particular first I’ll never forget. My first exposure to Peter Luger’s steak sauce. That’s right. Luger’s sauce.
One summer, I was assigned a little brother to mentor for what was called “Dream Week”. Turned out, this kid was completely and utterly obsessed with Peter Luger’s and their steak sauce. Most kids roll to camp with a sleeping bag and a couple of fresh packs of Hanes, this fat little 8-year-old came with steak sauce. Tons of it. He had special permission to keep a huge bin under his bed and bring it to the dining hall to dump on whatever was in front of him. Cheerios and Luger’s sauce? Let’s rock. I owe this little dude much gratitude. It’s because of him I came home that summer asking about Peter Luger’s. From that summer on, Peter Luger became a fixture in the Steinthal family rotation.
