Remember real hot chocolate?
Perhaps it’s the unusual overabundance of frozen water that has fallen on Seattle this week, or the fact that Steve and I now approach life through the eyes of a 3 year old, or the season and frozen pipes. Hard to say, but the other day I hiked to the grocery store to fetch a few supplies in my backpack – temp 19 F pre wind chill, and as I tiptoed over the ice skating rink that they were pretending was a lot for parking cars, I suddenly smelled what I thought was hot chocolate – brilliant I mumbled through my iced lips as I sniffed through every aisle for one of those ladies with hair nets giving out samples and coupons.
An olfactory hallucination brought on by frost seared brain cells, or a memory triggered by the crunchiness of the snow under my boots, the sensory thrill of sliding on the road – all somehow tossed me back to the side of my mother’s stove anxiously watching a pot of milk heat while my sibs and I snuck more powered Nestles Quik into our mugs lined on the counter. The unopened bag of marshmallows torturing us.
I took a running start to better my speed as I skated down the alley behind our house, my senses overwhelmed as I flashbacked to those long northern Michigan winters and the aspects that made them livable. Deep snow drifts for burrowing, ice skating and sucking ones sodden mittens when thirsty, falling into the not quite frozen enough frog pond or bay and freaking out mom when walking in wet/frozen and of course hot chocolate.
Mom brushed us kids away like so many flies at a picnic as she poured the hot milk slowly into our mugs half filled (if I had my way and Mom hadn’t noticed) with powdered chocolate. Moms giving each mug a quick stir to mix, plopping in several white pillows and leaving a spoon in each mug. (“Nestles makes the very best… Chocolate”)
Then the real torture began, because in this era before microwaves and immediate melting, we had to wait for the ultimate satisfaction. The marshmallows became a sweet thick blanket over the hot chocolate milk, which was best eaten spoonful by spoonful, using a finger to clean up every drip and drop in the bottom of the mug.
Real hot chocolate.
+3.jpg)
2 comments:
Love it that you are back on..what about the daring to stick your tongue on the mailbox? And it sticking..???? Remember Saturdays playing games at the kitchen table and mom making homemade pizza or fudge??? Love you guys
I do indeed remember long games of Monopoly with buttered popcorn making our fingers all nice and greasy as we played. SUCH fun...but the hot chocolate...ahhhhh. I also remember coming in from being outside building snowmen or snow forts and smelling whatever wonderful thing mom was making for dinner filling your nose with anticipation ....
I flash back myself these days from the smell of snow...yes, there is a a smell. The air is so crisp and clean.
Post a Comment