I
don’t like Peeps.
(Stop
it. Don’t make that face, because we both know you don’t like
them either.)
And
yet, there they are, the candy corn of spring sweet treats. No
one I know eats them. No one I know likes them. But someone must
be buying them.
Taking
over store aisles. Invading our homes. Being thrust upon us as
if we all collectively asked for them, and then produced in ways
even the makers of Oreos couldn’t imagine.
No…
really… I saw pancake and syrup Peeps on one web site. This past
holiday season, the Peeps continued to work on expanding their
run and gingerbread Peeps were out and about. Do we really have
a need for fruit punch Peeps? (Since I’m not a fan of them, I’m
going to say we don’t. Still… look them up… you can place an order
if you want.)
There’s
a chance I’m a bit off track on this one. Someone has to be enjoying
Peeps. Someone must like them. (And yes, even I looked twice when
chocolate became involved in the process. Chocolate coatings and
chocolate mousse and… hold on… does that label say chocolate caramel
swirl Peeps? I think it does. I’m not sure if I’m having second
thoughts about Peeps or if evidence is building that Peeps are
creeping up the list on historical worldwide culinary horrors.)
To
set the record straight, I do love marshmallow. S’mores are brilliant.
Tigg and I have found a Rice Krispies treat recipe that includes
peanut butter cups and will change your views on heaven. Many
of us grew up in a home… I being a member of the us in this idea…
where Marshmallow Fluff was a pantry staple.
The
foundation of Peeps, to me, begins with a good thing.
But
this past December, as I walked around displays of snowmen and
reindeer and… dear lord, Christmas trees… yeah, tipping point
has been passed. Apparently, if you make it, they will buy.
I
think the more specific thing about Peeps for me isn’t whether
or not I actually like them. Right now, as I type this, I can
imagine taking a bite from a classic yellow chick. I don’t like
them, and yet I’m almost craving it. The problem is that a little
goes a long way.
Funny
thing about Peeps is my comparison to candy corn. Somehow, they
have managed to become tradition.
(I’m
going by memory for this next part, so bear with me.)
The
Flintstones.
When
I was a kid, I watched The Flintstones. In one episode,
Fred takes over a restaurant, and he’s dealing with the guy that
is providing a meat order. The man explains that Fred also needs
to order a ridiculous amount of parsley. Why? So the parsley can
be put on the side of every plate for the diners to throw it away.
And
that might best sum up my feelings about Peeps (and candy corn).
I
can find plenty of uses for parsley. Great uses. I think most
of us can. But when it’s there on the plate, as a garnish, we
tend to turn up our noses and sweep it aside. And though the creativity
and presentation of garnishes has definitely improved in the culinary
world, the parsley tradition remains.
Let
us therefor give a nod of appreciation to the Peep. Perhaps enjoyed.
Perhaps not. Still, an Easter basket tradition. A garnish. And
I can live with that.
(But
no kidding, if anyone gives me a pumpkin spice Peep, all bets
are off.)