The season of pumpkin excesses has begun. Pumpkin flavoured or scented everything. I am not a fan. Perhaps sometime in January or February I might have a faint yen for a thin slice of pumpkin pie, or appreciate pumpkin fragrance aftershave in a tightly packed elevator during the rainy season -- not likely -- but for now I will bemoan this weird fetish.
The other seasonal item of infection is cranberry.
The Latinos who are employed as line cooks and fry cooks in most American restaurants here are probably baffled as all heck. Why don't Gringos like elote? Tamales? Carnitas with a nice perky salsa? Why do so many Anglos loose their spetznik about what are essentially overplayed boring blah flavours?
Well, most Gringos fondly remember their mom's cooking. Where the only seasonings were salt, pepper, and sugar, sometimes daringly combined in Lowry's. Anything that actually tasted "good" was actually "bad" for you. It's a tribal guilt thing.
Which is why the rest of us have to endure pumpkin baguettes, pumpkin tofu, and pumpkin candles, plus cranberry studded cheddar and cranberry corn muffins, for two months.
We don't have that feverish puritan guilt, but we must suffer anyway.
It's their tribal thing.
Why hasn't anyone invented a carnitas scented candle yet?
Oh wait. Everyone else will simply prepare carnitas.
There is no need for artificial aromas.
No fevered guilt.
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