Escape with Sponge Candy
April 1st, 2015
Here is what happened the first time I tried the local favorite, Sponge Candy.
Homesick for Buffalo, I reach for the carton of Sponge Candy. The second the caramel ice cream reaches my taste buds, I begin to escape…
It is mid-January in Buffalo and the temperature is just right for spending an afternoon outside. As I walk along the waterfront, I admiringly gaze at the fantastic views of Lake Erie. High in the sky sits a large, caramel colored sun, reminding me that winter won’t last forever. In the meantime, I should take advantage of the activities this weather provides.
I glide my spoon across a ribbon of caramelized sugar.
With one step, I glide across the freshly set ice rink. My skates leave crisp tracks as my feet strive to remember how to maneuver on the ice. After a few minutes, I am spinning and swirling around with no problem. I feel so alive and free, effortlessly floating on top of the crystal surface.
My next spoonful is scattered with sweet pieces of sponge candy.
When we finally decide to take a break, my mom pulls out a fresh bag of milk chocolate sponge candy. I haven’t tasted sponge candy in so long so I am ecstatic to see those little brown squares. My first bite plays out in slow motion. The sponge starts off crisp and then melts away in my mouth as the chocolate begins to dissolve, leaving the most beautiful combination of flavors. Mm, I could savor this moment forever.
Once I finish my bowl of ice cream, I realize I’m not at home. But another scoop would make me feel like I am!
Escape with Peanut Butter S’mores
March 31st, 2015
It’s Colleen again! Today’s campfire story comes from the first time I tried Peanut Butter S’mores.
This weather makes it feel like summer will never arrive. To console myself, I scoop Peanut Butter S’mores into a bowl and escape …
It’s the perfect summer night for our annual camping trip. The world is silent around us besides the crackle of the campfire at our feet and the crickets in the grass. Out here we are invited to enjoy the simplicity of nature, away from the hustle and bustle of everyday life.
I grab a big spoonful of toasted marshmallow ice cream and let it slowly melt in my mouth.
I place my utensils on the log next to me and look them over like a doctor preparing for surgery. I carefully examine my roasting stick to make sure it is sterile and sharp enough for the operation I’m about to begin. With it, I spear my perfectly plump marshmallow and set it over the fire. Too many times I’ve lost my marshmallow after it’s been engulfed by flames but tonight, I find the sweet spot in the glow.
I twirl my spoon around the ice cream, digging into the swirls of graham cracker and peanut butter.
After a few minutes (which feel like eternity), the marshmallow’s white skin has turned a beautiful golden brown and I delicately pull it away from the blaze. Off to the side I have cracked a graham cracker in half and swirled on my secret ingredient: peanut butter. It cements the ‘mallow in its spot and adds a surprise flavor to a traditional treat.
I’m pleasantly surprised when my next mouthful has chunks of fudge.
To finish off the ensemble, I cautiously lay my marshmallow down and blanket it with a piece of chocolate and graham cracker. The first bite is the trickiest but after years of perfecting my craft I know how to prevent my s’more from oozing out. My taste buds scream in delight as they enjoy the perfect blend of crunchy graham cracker with the ooey-gooey mess of the other ingredients. It just wouldn’t be a camping trip without this.
I look down at my empty bowl in disbelief. I must get s’more…!
Escape with White Lightning
March 30th, 2015
I’m back with another striking story! This one takes place when I tried White Lightning.
I carefully glide my spoon across the top of the White Lightning carton, forming a perfect ball of dark chocolate ice cream. I savor the rich taste and start to escape…
I look up at the sky. It keeps getting darker by the minute. I don’t have an umbrella and I’m still a few streets away from my house, so I start to hurry. Black clouds form over my head and I hear the rumbling of thunder in the distance. By the time I make it to the end of my street, light raindrops start to fall. I pick up my pace, knowing that the storm is creeping in quickly. Just as the rain starts pouring down I reach my front door and run inside.
The white streaks of mint fudge taste so refreshing against the dark chocolate, I take another spoonful.
I love watching summer storms from my porch and find it relaxing to listen to the rain drum on the roof. The claps of thunder are getting louder which tells me that the storm is getting closer. Barely blinking, I stare at the sky. All of a sudden it is illuminated by a bright slash of lightning. The sky immediately returns to black, leaving me on the edge of my seat and anticipating the next bolt.
I look down and see how much ice cream is gone from the carton. Uh oh. A storm is brewing in this house…
Escape with French Toast
March 29th, 2015
Hello! Today I’m narrating from the cozy cabin where French Toast has taken me.
I look out the window. Snow, again. Since I don’t want to go out in this weather, I might as well enjoy some French Toast ice cream. As my spoon digs into the cream colored ice cream, I escape…
I sip my coffee and look out the window of our log cabin. Light, fluffy snowflakes are falling in a rhythm as if we’re sitting inside a snow globe. Even though it’s March, I don’t mind that it’s snowing. It sets the perfect tone for this relaxing weekend in Vermont. Out here, tucked away in the woods, everything is peaceful and quaint.
The flavor of warm, homemade French toast reaches my palate.
My nose perks up as the most delectable scent comes wafting down the hall from the tiny kitchen. I recognize the smell of my favorite Sunday breakfast. I’ve been reading by the fireplace but put the book down just in time for my husband to slide a plate under my nose. Thick slices of French toast lay in a beautiful arrangement. My eyes expand with excitement.
My next spoonful reveals a swirl of real Vermont maple syrup.
Yesterday we spent the day visiting numerous sugar houses to find the perfect maple syrup. Now I lift the bottle of the thick, medium amber liquid and lick my lips. I delicately pour the sweet sauce in a flawless swirl over the slices, ensuring that each bite of French toast will have the right amount of the sugary substance. I tell myself on a weekend like this, it’s okay to indulge.
My taste buds are beyond pleased with today’s breakfast choice. But why stop at one meal? If they’re lucky, they may enjoy more French Toast for lunch…