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It’s not a good look when a man of a certain age (yes, me) freezes an entire dinner party by jumping up and down with glee.  

But I confess — and I would do it again. Such was the pleasure of tasting Apple Brown Betty once more. 

For me, ABB was the quintessential 1950s dessert. They must have served it every other day in the school cafeteria when I was in third grade. Then and now, it’s crusty and chunky, equal amounts sweet and tart. It was — and is — utterly wonderful. 

The hostess of the dinner party was extremely gratified by all my squealing and all my praise, but not nearly as gratified as I was.  

Memory Lane is sometimes paved with ruts. But to sample the Betty Crocker ABB recipe (yes, it was Betty’s that she used — I asked) was the smoothest road I’ve traveled in quite some time. 

How much time since ABB had last graced my palate? Best guess: more than 65 years. 

If you’ve never had the pleasure, Apple Brown Betty is a baked dessert consisting chiefly of sliced Granny Smith apples bathed in apple cider.  

A top layer of butter, brown sugar, bread crumbs and cinnamon is applied. Then additional layers — same as the first — are fashioned and added, stacked one atop the other, like lasagna.  

Then, for you recipe nerds, into the oven at 350 degrees it goes, for between 45 and 55 minutes, or until the topping is brown (thus the dish’s middle name). Ice cream optional. 

I would never argue that third grade in the 1950s was a bellwether of very much, other than children practicing how to hide under their desks if nuclear bombs ever arrived.  

But ABB was everything a kid could want or need, then or now — delicious, wholesome and filling.  

Our school cafeteria did not top ABB with ice cream. But since when did any school ever get it about extra taste and extra fun, anyway? 

And since when did any school ever successfully police the black market in ABBs?  

We precocious little calorie hounds would bet our lunchtime ABBs on everything under the sun — whether it would rain that afternoon, whether rock and roll was a passing fad, whether the New York Yankees would win the pennant forever more. 

If memory serves, I won more often than I lost. And my second ABB always tasted as good as the first — perhaps better, since I had won it fair and square from some classmate who just didn’t get it about the Yankees and their talents. 

There’s only one abiding debate about ABB: Who was Betty? 

History has no conclusive answer. Evidently, ABBs first became popular in the post-Civil War South. Folklore says that Betty was an African-American cook who blundered into ABBs when she accidentally cooked a baked apple for too long and tried to cover up her mistake with cinnamon.  

But if folklore is wrong, her dish is right. More than right. It screams, “Nice, smooth, glorious.” 

The other uncertain morsel of ABB history concerns Betty Crocker. She and her apron were everywhere in the 1950s. Housewives swore by her, even though her recipes were as drab as white bread. 

Betty has been mocked in the years since because her ABB recipe does not include a dash of nutmeg. 

Perhaps she thought that nutmeg was too out-there for her target audience. Regardless, not even Betty’s play-it-safe ABB recipe can undermine the glory of the dish. Nutmeg only makes it more glorious. 

I realize it’s not the 1950s anymore. I realize that in the 2020s, people watch their diets. So, I’m duty bound to add these statistics: In one serving of Betty’s ABB, there are 410 calories, 11 grams of total fat, four grams of protein and 76 grams of total carbohydrates. 

But if any or all of that deters you, don’t let it.  

Follow my lead. Be on the lookout for a dinner party hostess who can pluck one’s boyhood strings — and who will be gratified by whooping, hollering and applause. 

Bob Levey is a national award-winning columnist.