I call it deliciousness.
More specifically, I am speaking of suckers. Homemade suckers.
I made suckers with my friend Janice last night. Janice, yes, you just made it into my blog again. It tends to happen if you hang out with me enough. But, these weren't just any suckers. They were the suckers of my childhood. Well, not specifically the exact suckers of my childhood. Those were all eaten. But these were as close as it gets.
| apple cinnamon, wintergreen, and watermelon |
They were so yummy! I can still taste, feel, and smell a hot cinammon sucker, sliding it up and down on my tongue, mostly smooth, but a little bit of texture and taste explosion! Wow! They were just hot enough. I loved to flip the sucker over between licks. I loved to dip it in a glass of water before licking. I loved how long it took to eat it. These suckers were not the kind you would crunch, not until you got to the very end. These suckers were the kind you really would lick until it was all gone. My mom made all kinds of flavors: watermelon, strawberry, grape, cinammon, apple cinammon, lemon, tangerine, fruit punch, mint, root beer. . . there were a lot of choices. I liked every single one.
A few years ago, my mom realized that her sucker making days were over. Her kids were raised and her wrists were wrecked. Carpal tunnel had taken its' nasty toll and she could no longer hold the heavy pot to pour out the molten sucker batches. Getting old, well, let's just say that it stinks.
So, my mom gave me her supplies. I used them once and then packed them away and kind of forgot about suckers for a while. I had some pretty intense distractions, mostly my freak mouth problem. Today is the 4 year anniversary of the day my mouth went crazy. Fast forward.
A few weeks ago,my friend Janice talked about how much she likes suckers, so we decided to make some.
I got some extra flavorings and sucker sticks from the store. My daughter Amy helped me set out the supplies. And as we opened the box of molds, it was like my childhood was pouring over me. It was exactly as if my mother had just used them a few weeks before. I could remember eating suckers of every shape! Dinosaurs, hearts, flowers, bears, mickey mouse head, trains, bunnies, apples, muffins, and stars. There was a Tuppeware container with her old flavorings, most of them still good. I opened the apple cinnamon, and, instantly, I was 11 years old again. If I were to assign a taste/smell to my childhood, it would be that exact apple cinnamon flavoring.
You know, I think it's kind of hard to lick a sucker and freak out at the same time . It's just a calming act. You have to slow down and lick it. Feel it. Taste it. Enjoy it. Savor it.
And that is the feeling that came over me. We made three batches. We used new flavoring for two of them- watermelon and wintergreen. For the other we used the apple cinnamon from my mom. My entire house smelled like my childhood. I'm sure to my kids and my friend it just smelled like apple cinnamon. My husband fled the kitchen to escape the spicy scent. But, to me, it was peace. It was love and safety, service and sacrifice, calm and security. It was my mom's love for me and my siblings, concentrated and poured into a mold with a stick, popped out into a beautiful translucent, tangible piece of joy.
It was magic. Last night, as I made those suckers with my friend and with my own 11 year old daughter, I felt the power of carrying on a tradition of love. Yes, my daughter was a little annoying, as I'm sure that I was to my own mother . And, yes, we had a few mishaps, but for the most part, we enjoyed being together. The work became light as we talked and laughed and shared, enjoying the aromas as we worked. I remembered what my mother taught me, and my hand was sure as I took the 300 degree mixture, boiling in the pan my mother used and passed on to me, and poured it carefully into the molds; my mother's molds. I remembered how to use spoons to push down the sticks that popped up, how to reheat the mixture if it got too cold too fast, and how to carefully pop the hardened suckers out of the molds. And my daughter was learning, so that one day, she can remember.
| You know you want one. |
