Only for the nutritionally challenged
Hardly a day goes by, without that some newspaper or magazine or talk show urges me to improve my nutritional habits. Out with the old and in with the new, in smaller quantities, preferably cooked in some non-fat manner (steam, microwaves). A siren song, meant to avoid a siren call from one of those yellow vans that seem to be parked outside the local donut dispensary. Well, after a long hard winter, and with Mi-Carême happening sometime soon (yesterday, today, tomorrow?), the other side has struck back.
Maybe the vapours of tree-pee boiling into syrupy goodness have stirred the base of the local brainstem. Maybe a shipment of canned beans (the food from the fallout shelter of my youth, although we didn’t have one) has tipped the scale, but today I struck nutritional gold at the local market. A foodstuff so rare that it would be forbidden, treif, haram, in many other parts of the world. Stuff to kick off another Holy War, eh what?
I’ve never actually seen them in packaged form before today. I believed that only people who operated the mysterious cabanes à sucre that dot the local countryside were licensed to sell anything so dangerous to public health. Have I mentioned how good they taste? I have only a small supply on hand, and once the sons and the dog discover what is hidden in the depths of our refrigerator, they will be just a memory.
There’s a temptation to stock up. After all, according to the nutritional tag, the whole bag (well, less than a bag, now) has a modest 533.33 calories. Lots of sodium and cholesterol (the good kind!!) and nary a bit of that fibre stuff that goes against the grain. Remember, this is an appetizer for a can of baked beans with molasses, smothered in syrup. Only a little venial sin, given that we’re halfway through Lent.
