It is with some hesitation that I mention anything related to "Here Comes Honey Boo Boo" because that would confirm that yes, I watch the show, briefly, when I happen upon it. I am actually quite enthralled by it. Apparently a lot of other people are too. Ratings are way up and they are asking for raises. Loving but vulgar is about right to describe the family. Alana, a/k/a Honey Boo Boo, is freakishly articulate and bursting with spunky personality for what, age 7? But I guess if you've been trained for years in the toddler pageantry scene, that's par for the course.
I love best about the show the interesting turns of phrases in the family vernacular. The mom's "what the hellever" is my current favorite. She uttered it at the unsuccessful conclusion of an etiquette class for the girls, and the teacher's gentle remark that more work was needed. Really. Now, I've heard "what the hell ever for," but to use the phrase just to state one's disdain, as if to say "whatever" and say instead, eyes rolling, "what the hellever," I kind of love it.
But I did not love a recent food episode. Mom was making "sketti." The family's favorite sauce for "sketti" on family sketti night is butter and ketchup. I felt a little sick to my stomach. But as grossed out as I was, I also was fascinated. I could not avert my eyes. But then they got out the big plastic brown tub of faux spreadable butter/margarine and were scooping that out, and then squeezing the ketchup out, and about then I was done. I had to look away. But for a minute, I did wonder how it tasted. Would the faux spreadable butter substance take away enough of the sweetness of the ketchup? Would this combination even stay together or separate when heated? I should have watched to see if they did heat it.
Not 12 hours later, I was in a long line at Starbucks, where I happened upon another food (beverage) item that I really wish I had not seen.
I realize a lot of people are gaga over the Starbucks Pumpkin Spice Latte. Even really good friends of mine. I always get just nice strong coffee ("grande bold no room"), so I don't entirely get this. But I do get the thrill of it being that time of year, like now, when Starbucks rolls out the Pumpkin Spice Latte. I get that it means fall is here - and for Austin that means just a tad bit of thrilling coolness in the mornings and at night. Autumnal coziness I totally get because I become almost weepy with serious warm fuzzies when Starbucks changes the cups over from the signature white with green logo to those holiday red paper cups with snowflakes. It means Christmas time: ultimate cozy times, in front of the fire (if it dips below 60 degrees), curled on up on the couch surrounded by cookbooks and planning the holiday food spreads, listing to a little something Baroque on KMFA, a glass of red wine....
But the magic of the Pumpkin Spice Latte is better left unseen. Because it is really nothing more than this icky sweet viscousy stuff that comes in a plastic jug, which someone had left out in plain view on the counter for all to see.
It is a good thing the Festival Gourmand will be in full swing in lovely Rennes, France when I am there next week. I aim to have enough gourmet gourmandise outings to erase residual queasiness over the thought of spreadable-from-a-tub-butter-and-ketchup sauce over sketti.
Comments