See also: #legacyfoodstuffs
Back in, oh, let’s call it ’86 (for the sake of nice round numbers), Mom was really sweet and brought me a tasty snack from Haydel’s, as she was prone to do. Usually an eclair or some fancy puff pastry. One day she thought I’d like a nice marzipan alligator.
No. I did not.
I’d never heard of this marzipan stuff, but it was green and felt like a hard lump of Play-Doh, so I took a wee bite off the tail. Ick. I wrapped it up and put it back in the fridge.
Somehow it stayed in that fridge over the course of me moving around over the years until one day Mom found it tucked into a back corner, looking as new and horrid as the day it was fresh. Chuck it? Nah. I took it to my new apartment as a laugh because old, refusing to decompose food is funny.
In 2000, that gator found its way into a box of kitchen goods and moved to DC with me. It went to Pittsburgh for my brief stint there. Then back to DC.
In 2010, that gator made the trek to Montana.
In 2016? 30 years later? Back in a seldom seen corner of the refrigerator…
Yes, I have food older than many of you. At this rate, I should probably will it to someone.
Categories: Personal Narrative