…..or News From Camp-Covid
Day one of self isolation wasn’t worth writing about. It entailed a lot of sleep and unpacking and then some more sleep. By day two I had partially regained some of my mojo and so reorganized the kitchen cupboards to accommodate the hunker-down stores I brought back from Florida. Thankfully Vienna sausages stack well.
In the cupboards I found the usual array of outdated canned goods, stale crackers, baking chocolate gone white (reminiscent of a long forgotten Easter egg) and old cake mixes that will never enjoy the hot interior of the oven. There were also a few surprises. Did you know that if you leave it long enough, Carnation milk will solidify in the can. I wonder if it tastes like cream then. Shudder.
I also found a partial bag of cat food. It’s been at least two years since we have been in the service of cats. And please tell me
does this bag of Meow Mix expire on Oct 14, 2016 or Oct 16, 2014? Moot point I s’pose. Into the compost it goes.
And what’s with all the custard powder? I’ve had this so long it predates the concept of expiry dates. Somewhere in there they redesigned the can. And when was the last time I made custard? I dunno, my recall doesn’t go back that far but it is possible it came across with me from Newfoundland when I moved back in 1988. Do they still even make it? Anybody want some? I have two slightly used cans going real cheap. I’d even take a couple of rolls of toilet paper in trade.
I also found no less than 4 bags of Purity candy. I was excited about the kisses because you knows we all needs more kisses what with the new six foot rule and all.
I couldn’t find an expiry date on the bag anywhere. Oh what the heck, it can’t hurt to try one. I picked
It neither tasted of rum nor butter. But it wasn’t bad. It was just nothing. I had feared it being rancid or rock hard but the texture was well preserved. I’d have to say the closest thing the flavour came to was blancmange which was short on vanilla. I’m working up to trying the banana but I think I’ll skip the coconut ones. They had an odd sort of brown juice about them.
I didn’t know if these peanuts were left-over from last year’s Pad Thai or if I bought them for a summer party in nineteen eighty-something but things went so well with the candy kisses that I thought I’d give them a try. I implore you folks, don’t try the old peanuts. Please don’t try the old peanuts. It took four Purity kisses to get the bad taste out of my mouth and that works out to over four hundred more calories and thus minimum sixty-six kisses to work that off and, well, Lance and I aren’t getting any younger. Just sayin’. Feed them to the pigeons.
© Judy Parsons 2020