In case you haven’t noticed, this is pumpkin season in America. I don’t mean the big orange gourds that grow on sprawling vines. I mean the flavor, which has become ub-everywhere-iquitous from October through the first of December, when gingerbread vies for its own shot at number one.
Pumpkin Spice Latte even has a hashtag: #PSL
A piece last month on Quartz by Christopher Mims explains how Starbucks stumbled on the stuff ten years ago and examines just how badly the trend has gotten out of hand.
Although I drank so many PSLs in the early years that every Fall I developed a pumpkinish roundness to my cheeks–all four of them–I’m thankful to say I’m finally over it.
As usual, my poor husband, Herman, was the last to know.
The other night he made a mad dash into the grocery store/pharmacy to pick up a prescription and came out with a surprise. Pumpkin roll. It was like a Little Debbie on growth hormone; a spongy, spicy, sienna colored cake-like thing wrapped around a pseudo-creamy filling made with confectioners sugar and something unnatural and probably toxic. Maybe propylene glycol. When Herman lovingly fed me a forkful, it glued my tongue to my teeth. Even though I worked it like a cat with a mouthful of peanut butter, it wouldn’t let go. And it tasted kind of “off.”
I must have looked miserable.
“Don’t like it, hunh?” asked Herman.
Guess not. Thank goodness. Although we’ll know for sure if I turn my nose up at pie this Thanksgiving.
Four days down. Twenty-six to go. If you’d like to read the rest of the things I’ll be grateful for during these Thirty Days of Thanksgiving, please Like my Facebook Author Page. You’ll get a link daily. Or submit the Get Notified form to follow this blog.
What about you? Sick of pumpkin, too? Click on Leave a Comment below to sound off.