When I was a child, I used to accompany my mother to the grocery store on her weekly trips. It was just something to do, I suppose, and the store never failed to be a fascinating place. But I was not the sort of child to beg for superfluous goodies and sweets; I knew my mother would say no to any whines and protestations, as she always bought the cheapest and healthiest food that was reasonable, not counting the weekly carton of ice cream (bless her soul).
But, of course, I pined for junk food.
I remember seeing the Lunchables--- those mesmerizing, manufactured, bite-sized miniatures of food, circles of ham, crackers delight, perfect postage stamp sized cheese squares--- and always wanting them. They taste like a foreign observer’s idea of what Earth food might be, recreated in a far-off Martian lab, but man, those little snacks looked appealing.
I remembering seeing tubs of Cool Whip, cans of whipped cream, and thinking, blessed he is the man who can spoon Whip straight from the tub that giveth the Whip. Spray cheese had a similar appeal.
I remember, especially, the special jars of peanut butter that contained both peanut butter AND jelly, in a single jar.
I never asked for any of these things because I knew my mother to be too practical. But now, dear reader, at two point three decades of age, I can buy whichever peanut butter I like. I only realized this quite recently.
The call it Smuckers Goober, and it contains peanut butter striped with jelly in a zebra-like pattern. The visual splendor of striped condiments makes up for any lackluster taste. In fact, it would probably taste better to buy the individual condiments, but the gimmick itself, TWO things in ONE jar, is worth the expenditure.
I think it’s a modern marvel.