Throwback Week (Ep.1): Foodie Distractions

This series began with a game of Tag.

No, now that I think about it, this all began with–not bocce, which was quickly considered after, and I shook that notion off–family dinner.

Actually, no.  Could it have been family dinner?

Nah, it’s too vague.  It must have been my father’s mentioning Despicable Me and Monsters, Inc.

Nope.  Not those either.  Before any other denying notion gets the best of my thought process, it will be simply said that the Pop-Tarts are to blame for the string of inspirational pearls.

While in Wegmans yesterday, my entering the grocery store was ill-prepared without a list in hand, adding that this practice of not having a list of items is a dangerous thing, I began to wander.  It is said that if a shopper goes into a grocery store without a list of specific items, there is a significant chance this shopper will end up buying more than they anticipated.  That’s true.  From personal experience and living vicariously through others and their grocery excursions, this can be validated.  I simply went for Smucker’s Natural Peanut Butter and bread, but I left with a $36-dollar-and-change bill.

My shopping hubris got the best of me.  If you give a mouse a cookie, right?  Well, I figured that my not wanting to buy lunches this week should be complimented by getting cold cuts.  This is justified.  I picked up some roast beef and Colby Jack cheese.  I ventured into the produce section, and got some fruit.

And then:  APPLES!!!

Yes, I yelled apples (in this post, not real life).  The word apples takes the place of a curse word.  Just like the first original sin, temptation generated from produce.  There was a pretty woman in the produce section, and we caught each other’s eyes.  Hey, I’m single, and she may or may not be, and a good story can be generated from meeting someone in the grocery section.  She ventured into the natural food section, and suddenly a craving for Kashi granola bars and cookies sprouted in my mind.

I stopped myself, however, debating this idiocy and moved to the side to contemplate my thoughts with the bagged spinach.  Besides, some woman was trying to get by.  I figured if I was going to mutter, don’t be stupid, aloud that positioning myself in front of bagged anything was the way to go.  The passerby could then look at me, (hopefully) agree, and say:  Yes!  Say ‘no’ to bagged foods!  Fresh is the way to go!  Tut-tut!  Bully!

Instead of looking like a fool, saving myself trouble of embarrassment, I simply looked at the woman to say I was stupid.

I’m kidding, but not about turning my head, which led my vision to vegetables packaged for stir fry.  Yes!  Stir fry!  Looks like I am going to be making stir fry this week.  I got the veggies, the chicken, the sauce, and chopsticks.  Who the fuck makes a conscious decision to buy chopsticks?  Um, this guy:  the one without the grocery list.  While on my mission, I passed Produce Woman, whose temptation faded.  She smiled, I smiled back, but that was after almost running into her cart.  This occurred while I was scurrying back to the produce section:  the broccoli was forgotten.  My mentality was focused on things I could eat anytime without feeling worry or regret.

After the five or so back-and-forth laps across Fairmount’s Wegmans, I found myself somehow in the middle of everything:  the cereals.  Next to the cereals are the varieties of Pop-Tarts, and the brand boasted a 2/$5.00 deal.  Strawberry was depleted, and I wasn’t feeling anything chocolate or heavy.  Blueberry, check.  Brown Sugar Cinnamon (a.k.a. The BSC), check.    The BSC is probably my favorite and go-to variety of the Pop-Tart family.



Please notice:  the picture above is attached to an article that is titled:  “25 Fattening Foods You Should Never Eat.”

Story of my life.  Anyways…

BSC Pop-Tarts could be eaten for breakfast or snack, toasted or not.  Toasting, in my opinion, was a risk, because it had to be done perfectly in order to protect the integrity of the Pop-Tart.  Toasting the Pop-Tart, any variety, too long would result in bad flavor and hardened edges:  hockey puck hard.  The burned edges would not taste like burned toast, which is crispy and tolerable with copious swipes of butter.  The burned BSC would taste awful, and the edges would cool extremely fast, yielding the hard edge.

Speaking of crispy edges:  those Pilsbury cinnamon rolls were the best, especially with that unhealthy frosting slathered across the top.  The goal was to get the roll in the center of the pan.  Those burnt didn’t work for my taste buds either.  Not even the frosting could hide the burnt bottoms.

To brag:  my mom totally made me pancakes the morning after Independence Day.  I ended up staying at my parents, because we got home late from our relative-hosted party.  Italian mothers:  spoiling their (cough-cough oldest son cough-cough) since Day 1.

What was your favorite breakfast treat or mid-day snack as a kid?

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