Oh, I know I was supposed to continue the story about the first, best Christmas present ever, but this is just a quick little note.
Someone in my house opened up the Hostess cherry pie today, and, as promised, left me a small part of it so that I could have my little olfactory memory.
The first thing I did was to put my nose into it and breathe deeply. That initial inhale has me at my grandma's house. It wasn't just the vanilla wafers. She also owns the smell of these Hostess cherry pies, Little Debbie cream-filled oatmeal cookies, Archway Lemon cookies, and Fruit Loops.
That grandma was a sugar addict. Can you tell?
I can smell the sugar as if it was standing up with torches chasing me down blind alleys. I too am a sugar addict, though I might qualify as a recovering sugar-addict since I don't do this very often.
So after inhaling about four or five times, I'm properly salivating. I pick up the piece, about a quarter, which is more than I'd asked for, but it is Thanksgiving after all. What's this holiday without a diabetic coma? I might not actually hit my sugar limit with this, though the sugar in it is pretty dense and I'll come close.
I love real cherry pie, but there's something flowery about this goo. Since it's already opened up, that's what I hit first. It's not really a strong cherry flavor, unless you're talking about the Luden's variety of cherry flavor. Isn't that funny? I've never analyzed it before. It's mostly sweetness and not enough tartness, but hey, this is a childhood memory and it's not to be messed with. Have they kept this flavor devoutly the same since I was eight years old? Really?
Then, there's the crust. It's literally crusted over with sugar. Oh man, I can feel the pressure at the backs of my eyelids already. If I die tonight, will someone tell Mike it was my own doing and not some intruder with a poison dart?
Then, there's the sugar stuck to my lips. Um, I forgot that part. And another bite, the one for which you try to get crust on both sides without losing a dolop of the sweet goo down the front of your white T-shirt. If I could go back in time with some adivce for my mother, it would be for her to NEVER PUT ME IN WHITE!
Then, on the fourth bite, I get part of a cherry. It's necessary to the expectations. Then, there's more required lip licking, to capture the sugar that flaked off mid-bite. Another bite. And then, sadly, the last, mostly crust and sugar.
End the whole thing by licking the remnants of goo off the wrapper, and there you have it, a full-blown olfactory memory overload. The humidity of summer, walking on the train tracks, the hornet's nest, Grandpa talking to the neighbor while he worked on his Evinrude motor, the Scrambler at the fair, a lost red balloon spiraling into space, and my cousin's sweet wiener dog licking the Hostess wrapper.
Thank you for listening, jb
Someone in my house opened up the Hostess cherry pie today, and, as promised, left me a small part of it so that I could have my little olfactory memory.
The first thing I did was to put my nose into it and breathe deeply. That initial inhale has me at my grandma's house. It wasn't just the vanilla wafers. She also owns the smell of these Hostess cherry pies, Little Debbie cream-filled oatmeal cookies, Archway Lemon cookies, and Fruit Loops.
That grandma was a sugar addict. Can you tell?
I can smell the sugar as if it was standing up with torches chasing me down blind alleys. I too am a sugar addict, though I might qualify as a recovering sugar-addict since I don't do this very often.
So after inhaling about four or five times, I'm properly salivating. I pick up the piece, about a quarter, which is more than I'd asked for, but it is Thanksgiving after all. What's this holiday without a diabetic coma? I might not actually hit my sugar limit with this, though the sugar in it is pretty dense and I'll come close.
I love real cherry pie, but there's something flowery about this goo. Since it's already opened up, that's what I hit first. It's not really a strong cherry flavor, unless you're talking about the Luden's variety of cherry flavor. Isn't that funny? I've never analyzed it before. It's mostly sweetness and not enough tartness, but hey, this is a childhood memory and it's not to be messed with. Have they kept this flavor devoutly the same since I was eight years old? Really?
Then, there's the crust. It's literally crusted over with sugar. Oh man, I can feel the pressure at the backs of my eyelids already. If I die tonight, will someone tell Mike it was my own doing and not some intruder with a poison dart?
Then, there's the sugar stuck to my lips. Um, I forgot that part. And another bite, the one for which you try to get crust on both sides without losing a dolop of the sweet goo down the front of your white T-shirt. If I could go back in time with some adivce for my mother, it would be for her to NEVER PUT ME IN WHITE!
Then, on the fourth bite, I get part of a cherry. It's necessary to the expectations. Then, there's more required lip licking, to capture the sugar that flaked off mid-bite. Another bite. And then, sadly, the last, mostly crust and sugar.
End the whole thing by licking the remnants of goo off the wrapper, and there you have it, a full-blown olfactory memory overload. The humidity of summer, walking on the train tracks, the hornet's nest, Grandpa talking to the neighbor while he worked on his Evinrude motor, the Scrambler at the fair, a lost red balloon spiraling into space, and my cousin's sweet wiener dog licking the Hostess wrapper.
Thank you for listening, jb
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