Who else besides me loves a warm Auntie Anne’s pretzels when shopping at your local mall? I mean how could one not notice the heavenly scent of fresh-baked pretzels upon entering the food court area? The dark and warm outer layer, soft all on the inside, with no salt and a touch of unsalted butter is enough to send me over to plop my cash down, and cave into my savory desire that takes me back to the good old days of being a teenager hanging out at the mall window shopping at Spencer’s, the thick vanilla’s shakes at Bob’s Big Boy, spending my allowance at the arcade leaving me enough money to stop and get a pretzel before heading home.
Auntie Anne’s didn’t start as some may have thought. When Anne Beiler and her husband Jonas bought a stand in a weekly Pennsylvania farmers’ market, her ambitions were…
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