I have a sweet tooth I must guard as tenaciously as we should be guarding our nuclear launch codes…not a good analogy because I slip up and let my guard down. While letting my sweet tooth guard down might equate to an increase of a pound or five on my bathroom scales, letting your guard down concerning the launch codes could equate to increases in radiation levels and nuclear ash swirling about. I’ve seen too many end of the world movies. This morning my end of the world scenario involves my sugar and fat cravings.
I awoke with a hankering. I flat out fancy something sweet. To avoid such scenarios, I have made my fridge and pantry a post-apocalyptic, barren wasteland of sweet treats. If not, I would be chin deep licking the container from a former half-gallon of Breyer’s Chocolate Chip Mint ice cream or reaching into the bottom of a bag of Hersey’s Dark Chocolate minis I had just opened.
Absolutely…No…Willpower. Twice I’ve walked over to the freezer to see if there was something sweet hiding behind those frozen Lean Cuisines. This is despite knowing, “There ain’t nothing there!” Wait…I wonder if Linda has something stashed in her purse…“F@#$ Me!”
My cravings have taken me down one of Alice’s rabbit holes. Instead of enjoying a cup of tea with the Mad Hatter I’m thinking about thick, lard infused, buttermilk biscuits, “runnin’” in butter, topped with King Brand Golden Syrup. Even those cravins’ are for naught. No lard, no freshly churned butter, and no King Syrup.
As I mentally toast the Mad Hatter’s similar insanity, I regale him with stories of peanut butter and Missouri cookies served by my grandmother. They too are favorites from my youth, but for some reason, this morning it’s biscuits and King Brand Golden Syrup.
Biscuits and honey, you say Mad Hatter? I would not turn it down…it’s just that in the memories of my youth it wasn’t honey, it was Golden Syrup…or maybe molasses…”Wait! I have molasses…a little toast drizzled in blackstrap molasses!” Nope! It ain’t what I want.
Growing up in a Southern rural area one might think I would crave honey…or sorghum. One would be wrong. I found sticky, sweet heaven in a large, red labeled metal can featuring a lion’s head and a pry-off lid. Made in Maryland, somehow the syrupy ambrosia found its way South to the shelves of Pettus’s Store. From there the contents had found their way onto the cathead biscuits my grandmother had made and placed before me. A dessert fit for a King…or made by a King…All Hail!
Some people don’t consider biscuits and sawmill gravy a meal. My guess…those same people would not consider butter covered biscuits drowning in a King Syrup a dessert. Their loss…and mine cuz I ain’t got none.
Well, Mad Hatter…I’ve no biscuits and no King Syrup. All I have are the memories of a small kitchen and the narrow dining area that went with it. The warm biscuits on a chipped china plate with freshly churned butter. and the red labeled tin waiting at the ready.
My heart is thankful for the memories and much “heart” healthier because the memories are all I have…until I get myself to a grocery store.
For further trips down a rabbit hole, Don Miller’s author’s page can be found at https://www.amazon.com/Don-Miller/e/B018IT38GM