Where did I go wrong? The other day, I put a sliced apple and a tiny tub of caramel dip in my daughter's lunch. I asked her later if she liked it.
"The apple, yes. The caramel? Not so much."
I stared in disbelief. My confused brain scrambled for a reason. Finally, I concluded it must not be very good caramel. There had to be something wrong with it.
So today I had a sliced apple with the same caramel dip. I swiped the first slice of apple through the dip and got a generous dollop of caramel. I put it into my mouth, and my senses were flooded with sweetness and nostalgia.
The taste took me back to crisp autumn nights trick-or-treating in my neighborhood. There was a woman named Peggy who always--at least, back then--gave out caramel apples, popcorn balls or homemade cookies. And the children who lived in the neighborhood weren't afraid to eat them. Nor were the parents afraid for them to. Does anyone remember those days?
I was also transported to the fairs and carnivals of my youth where, as an adult, I'd probably be terrified to eat a caramel apple or anything else. But then, one didn't consider whether or not the rides were safe or the "kitchens" sanitary. And the scary guys who operated the rides merely added to the ambience.
I've decided to persuade my daughter to take another chance on the caramel dip. Maybe the dip was still too cold when she had lunch. Maybe we need to let it sit out on the counter for a few minutes and warm up a bit so it's more pliable.
And, if that doesn't work, I think there's a fair in town next week....