The Bluffernutter - It blew my mind.

I am not among those who experienced the fluffernutter phenomenon as a child.  Fluffernutter?  Do you mean NutterButter?  You know, those cookies shaped and stamped out like peanuts – so clever those NutterButters - with the peanut butter filling in the…..no?  Not those?  Huh.  Marshmallow fluff you say?  Curious.

On a recent trip to Seattle, my husband and I did as we have been known to do:  prove that we have no shame being particularly skilled at eating and have no qualms about planning a day’s activities around food.  Please don’t interpret this the wrong way.  I’m no foodie.  I have no mature pallet.  I simply like to eat.  (I’m working on the whole portion control thing.)  My husband flipped through one of the freebie, locality-focused magazines in our hotel room and happened upon the sandwich that is the Bluffernutter.  Bacon, marshmallow fluff, and peanut butter all occupying the same space.  Yuck!  (insert image of scrunched up face of disgust here)  The things people are able to get other people to spend money on!  But as our time in Seattle continued, I became a bit more suspicious.  Reading the description again, the ingredients really were putting their best foot forward.  It wasn’t just any bacon; it was thick cut.  It wasn’t just your off-the-shelf fluff; it was homemade.  The peanut butter?  Crunchy of course.  And all within the confines of homemade potato bread (one of my favorites).  Even further, the restaurant specializes in using fresh and sustainable ingredients.  You might have to feel guilty about the calories, but not about anything else!  Suspicion turned into outright outrage when I saw that this Bluffernutter was on the kids’ menu!  Oh, so I’m too old to have it?  I’m too old to be interested in it?  I’m too old to realize how cool this sandwich is?  No way.  We immediately planned a pilgrimage to the home of the Bluffernutter, Homegrown.  

We first ordered normal, grownup lunch food to disguise that we had walked across town just for the kids’ choice.  This is me, impatiently waiting for my husband’s food to arrive so I can eat mine (remember, I like to eat; I don’t like to wait...in fact you can see I even started to eat before my manners finally kicked in and made me reluctantly stop.)

Whatever we ordered, it was really good.  But our heads weren’t in it.  We were thinking of what was coming next.  And that thing…..was this:

Looks better than you thought it would, doesn’t it? 

I took the first bite, and…

 

Food bliss!  I rarely have been so blown away by one bite.  It was amazing!

Then I said, “Why haven’t we had this before now??”  

Really.  That is what I said in that photo.  I can quote myself; it was that memorable.

So happy. 

I’m now determined to someday recreate that sandwich in my very own home.  I want to get that first bite of pure happiness back.  Incredible.  Thank you, Homegrown, for expanding my vocabulary and contributing pure, childhood joy to the food scene.   

Naming a Blog - An Instant Identity Crisis

I didn’t think I could start a blog unless I had something clever and unique to say.  So, I didn’t.  For years.  Until I finally realized that few internet users hold themselves to such a standard!  So while I still don’t necessarily have something profound to offer to the world, I figure there’s enough room out there in cyberspace for me to post a few thoughts, ideas, and stories every now and then.  Thus yet another blog is born. 

But what about the name?  This task is nothing short of paralyzing!  So much pressure to be cool, yet not look like you are trying to be cool.  To be sound smart, but in an effortless and non-pretentious way.  To be catchy, but not too kitschy.  Impossible really – at least for someone who isn’t particularly cool or effortless….ever.  So I’ll just be me and label it as such.  But I don’t just have to do my full, formal name.  I could go the nickname route.  That is, if I had a decent nickname.  In 2^nd grade a boy named Ryan (a badass on the playground), used to call me Cando Commando.  I suppose this was in response to the fact that I didn’t kowtow to any recess recreation challenges and also tended to be among the tallest members of my class, towering over many of the boys.  The nickname was a bit of a badge of feminist honor I suppose but it doesn’t really give off a great, welcoming vibe nor do I encourage its use.  The endearing nicknames my parents have used are simply off limits.  I’ve also always shrugged off (more like battled vehemently against) the shortened version of my first name.  I mean, what commando wants to be called Candi? 

Then there’s the issue of my middle name.  I’ve never disliked it.  But I’ve never really embraced it either.  I used to make a game of it in elementary school, not telling anyone what my middle name was.  Immediately everyone assumed it was the most horrendous R name ever (not sure what that would be).  Whenever my middle name was revealed it was received with noticeable disappointment.  “Oh.”  I think they were really hoping for some primo teasing fodder.   What great material they would have to work with if my name was Candice Rumpelstiltskin!  I am German; it’s a possibility?

Forgetting the sheer size of the world’s population, I figured Candice Rae was unique enough to be freely available for various usernames/social media accounts.  Yeah, no.  I was a bit deflated to realize just how many Candice Rae’s are potentially out there, same spelling and all.  But the idea of tacking on the first phonetic syllable of my last name to produce CandiceRaeLoo finally put an end to my blog-creation-induced pre-mid-life crisis.  CandiceRaeLoo.  I like it.  I hope you do too.