Last night, at about 2:00 a.m I woke up and couldn’t go back to
sleep. Normally I give myself an hour of trying to go back to sleep
before I give up and go downstairs to watch TV. Last night I knew it
just wasn’t gonna happen.
It was warm in the living room and our two Portugese water dogs,
Stachmo and Gabby followed me, hopped up on the couch, and snuggled
close. After five minutes of channel surfing, I landed on a documentary
with the intriguing title: The Chocolate Wars. It was about the rivalry
between the altruistic Milton Hershey and the odious Forrest Mars, son
of Frank Mars, the founder of Mars Candy Company.
It happens every year. About a month before Christmas, I buy at least a couple of boxes of little candy canes. I have plans to hang them over the edge of cups of hot cocoa. I place a large bowl of them on the kitchen island, ready to be snatched up and chewed. There are all kinds of ways I use them during the holidays. But, it never fails. I always buy way too many. And, every year at this time, I pull out the leftover candy canes and begin to stir them into cookie dough. This year is no different. But this year, the cookies are Italian-style twice-baked cookies – biscotti.
Candy has been a bond between me and my pal Joy since we first became
best friends in sixth grade at Beverly Vista Elementary School in
Beverly Hills, California. Sure, there’s been humor, loyalty, shared
heart-throbs, and tears…but from the get-go, there were shared Nestle
Crunch candy bars filled with crinkly chocolate that we bought every
day as we walked home from school together. It became a ritual,
peeling off the blue and white wrapper, then the foil, and eating the
crunchy bar while hysterically laughing over some inside joke that was
funny only to ourselves. But it was better that way.
A few months ago I discovered that my friend Jane keeps a tall glass
jar in her kitchen filled with chocolate candies – bite-size Dove bars,
Mr. Goodbar, Hershey's Golden Almond, Snickers, all my favorites.
Personally I've never understood how anyone could keep chocolate out in
plain sight without consuming it. Unless you're Willie Wonka.
I go to Pasadena often because my younger daughter’s cheer team practices there. Yes, I spawned a cheerleader because my parents don’t have enough to laugh about in heaven. It’s given me a chance to explore Old Pasadena and I’ve been loving it. But the fact that “Of all the Gin Joints” so to speak, I mean that Little Flower Candy Company just happened to open a bakery in Pasadena was just dumb luck for me. The building is an art deco cubby that reveals itself as you’re zooming along what looks like a residential area. Pasadena is funny that way.