Not a Peep

 

I donít like Peeps.

(Stop it. Donít make that face, because we both know you donít 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 couldnít imagine.

NoÖ reallyÖ 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 Iím not a fan of them, Iím going to say we donít. StillÖ look them upÖ you can place an order if you want.)

Thereís a chance Iím 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 andÖ hold onÖ does that label say chocolate caramel swirl Peeps? I think it does. Iím not sure if Iím 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. Símores 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 homeÖ I being a member of the us in this ideaÖ 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 andÖ dear lord, Christmas treesÖ yeah, tipping point has been passed. Apparently, if you make it, they will buy.

I think the more specific thing about Peeps for me isnít 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 donít like them, and yet Iím 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.

(Iím 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 heís 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 itís 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.)

 

If you have any comments or questions, please e-mail me at Bob@inmybackpack.com