My childhood was a bit strange compared to most other children. You see, we actually liked some vegetables better than candy. We know that parents are reading this, thinking that they want their offspring may be more as we was. My unique appetite may have had something to do with my mother feeding me baby until we was about twenty years old. As we think about it, the folks at Gerber does not produce a pureed version of German chocolate cake.
We ate very little candy. On Halloween, we would come home from trick or treat, and my mother and we would sit on the floor sorting out for my evening. We want to sort my collection into three piles. We have not really come to pass something to a particular bunch, we was mostly an observer in the annual ritual. In one pile would go the things Mrs. Robertson made. Immediately after sorting, the pile went right into our dustbin. My mother was sure that Mrs. Robertson let her eighty-four cats go all the counters in her kitchen at will. My mom knew it because Mrs. Robertson's sister-in-law had told her this (both the number of cats, and the freedom that these cats were given.) Pile beside the toxic contribution of Mrs. Robertson consisted of apples and small boxes of raisins that we had received. The apples were always delivered by the two dentists who lived in our neighborhood. These were considered suitable for me. we was never quite sure what happened to the third pile, the one who had any kind of candy imaginable and popcorn balls. Once the sorting was finished, my mother quickly took them into my parents' bedroom. They never showed up again. My only taste of candy came when we visited my grandparents a couple. (My other grandparents just tried to give me the buttermilk. we resent cows to this day.)
We later learned not to blame my mother for my almost sugar-free upbringing. We now know that somewhere there is a secret school for mothers, where they learn to protect their children from all things with a pleasant taste. We have noticed that when my son grew up, his mother hid all her candy after Halloween, too. But my wife has never revealed the exact syllabus of this top-secret school.
At twenty-nine, just as we was beginning to learn that meat, vegetables and apple juice has different textures in their natural states, we discovered the dessert in the form of a gourmet cheesecake. Actually, we now know that the word gourmet is rarely used for anything that comes from the discount grocery store in an ugly box with a little pip cellophane team. The cheesecake turned out to be mostly chemical-leaking chemicals. But to my foot, which was primarily used to light brown meat in almost liquid and thoroughly mashed green beans, it was heavenly.
Some years later, when we went through my culinary adolescence, my recreational use of food helped me to realize that the cheesecake does not really taste like cardboard, as my first experience had led me to believe. Furthermore, we discovered that the cheesecake, the wonder food that actually comes in many different variants.
Dessert is my reason to live! My favorite way to end a nutritious average of two jars of beef, two jars of mashed peas and pureed apple with cinnamon is a turtle cheesecake. But you must not tell my mother, she would just take it from me.
The saddest part of this story is that we do not even know how to make a cheesecake. If you have a recipe for one that does not involve using either a mixer or an oven, then let me know. We can use a blender, but when we took notes while my mother prepared the Christmas hams a year.
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