Monday, November 5, 2012

Candy And Me: My Taste-buds Are Tingling


Christmas Cookie Dough
            My eyes are locked on the white and lavender hello kitty alarm clock, watching the slowly changing number. Victoria and I are counting down the everlasting minutes until her parents go to bed. I’m practically drooling while I anticipate how the salty dough will taste when it’s crumbling around my teeth. Listening to her tell me what she asked for Christmas is hard to concentrate on when the word cookies scatters through every crevasse of my brain.
            “I also I asked for a new polly pocket, and Barbie dreamhouse.” She rambles.
            “Mhm. Yeah, sounds cool.” I casually mumble back.
            Finally, we hear the slight sound of snoring coming from her parent’s room. The conversation silences and we glance at each other simultaneously with excitement wild in our eyes. We tiptoe down the edge of the stairs and silently creep through the kitchen. When the freezer opens I can pretty much hear the angels sing and I swear there’s a glowing halo around the fifty two pack of sugar cookie dough. Now the drool really starts flowing.
            Each bite turns to creamy dough that melts on my tongue. The reindeer shaped dough is prancing through my mouth like it would through the night sky on Christmas Eve.  The sweet and salty dough is bittersweet and the adrenaline of knowing we could get caught at any moment makes the entire experience exhilarating. We both know that to keep our adventure a secret we should limit ourselves to two cookies each. But punishment for dough this good is worth it.
            Twelve cookies later and we’re back upstairs with a gurgling stomach. Somehow we still manage to be excited for next year’s supply of cookie dough, even with this nauseating stomach pain.
Barbeque Chicken
I couldn’t leave my grandma’s house without begging her to make her famous barbeque chicken. I loved being her little helper with every meal she made. Using a butter knife to cut vegetables got me nowhere, but I wasn’t old enough to be trusted with a real knife. I would sit in front of the oven the entire time the chicken baked, inhaling the tangy aroma with every breath. 
            I always got to bring home an extra piece to eat for dinner. Carrying it home was always challenging though. There was never anything left of the juicy drumstick by time I walked the two hundred foot distance between our houses. I would devour it before I even stepped foot out of her driveway. I treasured every moment of licking the succulent sauce off my sticky fingers the whole way home.
            I don’t know anyone who didn’t love that sweet crispy chicken. Unfortunately dogs loved it too. I was so tangled up in my barbeque dreamland that I didn’t have time to react to the large black lab darting towards me.
“Toby stop! Come! Now!” the owner frantically yelled. I was left breathless like a deer caught in the headlights. I wasn’t able to hear myself think over the sound of my heart thumping out of my chest.  One moment I’m daydreaming in heaven, and the next moment there’s a ferocious beast attacking me. I couldn’t think fast enough to react, so I contorted myself into the fetus position, thinking that if I was small enough, I would just disappear. But I had no such luck.  Three stitches later I was back home in bed gnawing on a large piece of chicken breast to distract me from the throbbing pain in my right ankle.
Nutella
            I don’t think I could ever eat another spoonful of that cocoa cream again. Not after how many containers I went through while on vacation in California. I had the mindset that nutella made every food taste heavenly. Pretzels, cookies, bread. It was all made more magical with this hazelnut spread. This jar was like a treasure chest full of gold that we just newly discovered.  We couldn’t get enough of it.
            After a long day of hiking the trails at Monarea Bay, nothing sounded better than tanning and relaxing along the beach. We had our eating routine down. We would each take a handful of salty pretzel, pass the large bag, and then dip each pretzel into the supersized jar of nutella. The salty crunch and the creamy chocolate created the perfect combination to tingle your taste buds.
            The humid ocean breeze tousled our hair as the sun spread warmth from head to toe. I was falling into a peaceful slumber with my hands clasped around the smooth jar. I awoke to seagulls gulling loudly and swarming all around us. Falling asleep with snacks scattered around is never smart to do while you’re at the beach.
            “Grab the blankets and run to the car!” My aunt squawked .
            Sadly, the container of nutella was left behind during the rush to the car. But another four jars were bought and thoroughly enjoyed throughout the three week vacation.  Once I was back in Michigan, nutella became a huge hit and the sight of it made me want to hurl.
Crab Ragoons
            I always thought of crab ragoons as a delicacy. Whenever I got to choose where to eat dinner, China Buffet King was always my first choice. Only so I could eat plate after plate of sky high mountains of crab ragoons. While everyone else spooned a variety of different chickens, dumplings and eggrolls onto their plate, I refilled mine with only crunchy crab wontons.  With every bite I could feel my tiny taste buds expanding and retracting, contorting themselves around each crumb of crispy wonton. The gooey insides melted instantly with each chew. My mother would look at me with disgust written all over her face as I devoured each serving.
“Gross. How can you eat so many of those at once?” She snarled. “They’re so tasty!” I murmured through a mouthful of food.
She hated eating there. But to me, China Buffet King was a vast sea. All the different varieties of food were like the thousands of different sea creatures swimming in the deep blue ocean And I got to explore it all. Sea horses and crab ragoons were alike in my mind, because sea horses were my favorite animal and crab ragoons were the most delicious Chinese food out there.

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