In between posting Perkins loan deferments and requesting refunds for overpaid accounts, I went to the back room to re-heat my morning coffee (yes, I drink about one cup a day... all day) and poke around for any goodies that might have been left back there by some generous officemate, for general consumption by anyone looking for a snack. (Here I must confess that I'm more likely to deplete the supplies of said goodies than to contribute to them, but... people put up with me anyway because I'm nice to work with.)
...So it was with joy that I spotted a plastic take-out container filled with cookies, sitting on top of the Accounts Payable file cabinet. The cookies were of the pseudo-shortbread variety, made cheaply with some sort of lardish shortening rather than butter, extruded through some torturous device so as to form attractive potato-chippy ridges along their lengths, and finally dipped in colorful sprinkles that (from the way they left a greasy film on the roof of my mouth) were obviously more wax than chocolate. I am, however, not above eating such disgusting things, provided they contain a certain amount of sugar; and these cookies did. In fact, they also contained a delightful filling of dehydrated, gooey raspberry saucy stuff; so stiff that when I bit down on one side of the cookie, the body of it crumbled into my mouth, leaving a sort of raspberry ledge sticking out of the other half. Yummm... a perfect gross-cookie-eating experience!
But it was the raspberry filling that caused me to pause, and realize suddenly that I have always had a love-hate relationship with raspberries: I love raspberry filling inside cheap greasy cookies, yet I dislike having raspberry sauce dribbled over my cake. I love chocolate truffles with raspberry filling, yet dislike solid chocolate with raspberry flavoring. I love fresh raspberries, but cannot bring myself to eat frozen ones. I long for fresh rolls smothered with butter and raspberry jam, but cannot stand the taste of raspberry jam on muffins. Good on peanut butter sandwiches; bad on scones.
Is it the berry that's fickle? Or is it me?
About Me
- k8fh
- I'm just like everyone else; a mass of contradictions.... I want things to go my way, but I'm often disappointed by the outcome when they do. I love solitude, but choose to spend most of my time with people. I long for, but am terrified of, permanence. Learning to embrace (or at least endure) loss of any kind is my greatest challenge. I live in Oneonta with my good friend Joel, my ex-boyfriend's cat, Clovis, and a ton of plants.
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