Day 105: "Why has she taken a picture of caramels?" you wonder. Ah, as some are given to say, thereby hangs a tale. Let's set the scene.
My husband is driving. We're headed to Portland, and I'm in the passenger seat. We're about halfway to Oregon and my mother is opening a snack in the back seat, just a small nibbly because we're planning to go to Rose's Deli for dinner. I hear her rustling around and my own tummy expresses itself with a low growl as I turn to see her unwrapping a Kraft caramel. The temptation is too much, so I ask if she has any more. She passes one up to me and I unwrap it, failing to notice that the wrapper isn't as crinkly as it should be, or perhaps dismissing it as a change in packaging. I pop the caramel in my mouth. When I bite down on it, my taste buds are jolted by not receiving the anticipated sweetness, but rather a sour milkiness which makes me think that despite being soft, the cream in the caramel has gone off somehow since it was manufactured. I can't help myself. I say, "Ugh!" and spit the caramel out into my hand. "Did yours taste all right? This one is nasty!" I ask my mother. At this juncture, she's folded double, trying to keep from laughing. What she had given me was a piece of Norwegian gjetost, a caramel-coloured, tangy, firm cheese made from goat's milk which under other circumstances, I would have thoroughly enjoyed. My mouth had been set for a Kraft caramel, smooth and sweet, taste buds all standing at attention at the thought. It was quite a shock, believe me! To this day, though, I think she'd been laying for my husband all along. He was notorious for only consuming a limited number of foods, largely meats, potatoes, green beans and (oddly) artichokes...and, of course, caramels which were one of our favourite backcountry desserts on long hiking trips. That said, she undoubtedly knew exactly how he would react to the gjetost, but having me reject it in disgust was even better than her original evil plan. Gjetost is my favourite cheese...usually.
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