Mellowcreme Pumpkins Are Delicious.

Some of you who know me might be surprised that I think so.  I’m really a salty, coffee-cream-only, once-a-month sugar cravings kind of gal.  I’d rather eat a steak, well, used to rather than a pile of sweets hands down.  Now, I’m more likely to have a Morning Star Tomato Basil burger with piles of cheese and spinach on a bagel as an indulgent treat.  Or an americano with tons of room, and resultantly tons of cream, from Starbucks.

But I love the hell out of these mellowcreme pumpkins that start appearing six weeks before Halloween.  They’re heartier candy corn.  Made out of the same stuff.  But I despise candy corn.  It’s got a grainy texture and, as much fun as it is to eat one color at a time, it’s a wholly unsatisfying exercise and not worth the potential dental damage.

But the pumpkins are somehow soft when I bite into them.  They’re half way between candy corn and taffy and they taste like butterscotch (which I also really dislike).  They cause the saliva to flow generously and my jaw clenches with over-sugared spasms the very moment they pass my uvula.  I like to pop a second one before the first is all the way down, and then the warm butterscotch goop coats the room-temperature curd of butterscotchy deliciousness.  So the act of chewing becomes a marriage of two mellowcreme forms: rock and lava.

I didn’t allow myself to revisit this love until last year when, in a particular fit of escapism from my marvelous retail job, I bought a bag at Giant and a festive Halloween candy dish and I ate them.  Pearl ate some, too.  Brad thinks they’re gross.  And he’s right.  But they’re delicious gross.


Author: April Line Writing

Writing about whatever the f*ck I want.

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