oh that's so sweet
Aug. 20th, 2008 08:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
alenxa_classicToday at work looked like a challenge: the promise of cake for combined birthdays of the month, plus muffins and such delivered by some vendor. I made a probably-ill-advised remark about "Jeez, who's trying to kill us now?" while walking by the goodies before lunch, and resisted. When I saw the cake, I was actually relieved: it was more of a mousse torte, which I'd given up eating even before the Big Damn Stupid. (Paradigm Change of Stupid?)
Still, I'm unfortunately prone to figurative felicide, and at around 3 I broke off a little corner of one of the now-mutilated blueberry muffins. It tasted...hollow. Like artificially sugar-flavored air. I figured it just wasn't a very good muffin, and a half-hour later I pinched up some crumbs from a Corner Bakery cinnamon cake, just to see. It was a little better, but it still reminded me unpleasantly of store-brand "fruit-filled" pies and day-old bargain basement donuts. Fake, and way too sweet. It bothered me, because two nights ago I'd realized the cherry crumble bar from Rutabegorz (which my mom had bought on a visit, and forgotten to take with her when we found unidentified nuts in it) wasn't going to get eaten by anybody but me, and I'd truly enjoyed the chunk of it I ate. I knew it wasn't only my tastes changing from the human default. I've just been eating such a higher proportion of real food that the trumped-up mass-produced enriched bleached crap everybody else likes doesn't agree with me anymore. Homemade, apparently, still does. Because, cherry bar? Just as good tonight.
Still, I'm unfortunately prone to figurative felicide, and at around 3 I broke off a little corner of one of the now-mutilated blueberry muffins. It tasted...hollow. Like artificially sugar-flavored air. I figured it just wasn't a very good muffin, and a half-hour later I pinched up some crumbs from a Corner Bakery cinnamon cake, just to see. It was a little better, but it still reminded me unpleasantly of store-brand "fruit-filled" pies and day-old bargain basement donuts. Fake, and way too sweet. It bothered me, because two nights ago I'd realized the cherry crumble bar from Rutabegorz (which my mom had bought on a visit, and forgotten to take with her when we found unidentified nuts in it) wasn't going to get eaten by anybody but me, and I'd truly enjoyed the chunk of it I ate. I knew it wasn't only my tastes changing from the human default. I've just been eating such a higher proportion of real food that the trumped-up mass-produced enriched bleached crap everybody else likes doesn't agree with me anymore. Homemade, apparently, still does. Because, cherry bar? Just as good tonight.
