(Trigger warning: this article is of absolutely no
consequence. None. It's not political, partisan, profound nor p'oed. It is mere
fluff, seven hundred or so words of cotton candy-ish rhetoric. You've been
warned.)
I have seen the apocalypse, the end days, one sure sign that
civilization as we know it is coming to an abrupt end. It appeared by stealth
in these opening days of autumn, showed up unbidden on store shelves in the
dead of the night, stocked by workers sworn to absolute secrecy. Perhaps you've
seen it while strolling down the baked good aisles of your local grocery store,
have recoiled in horror and fear at the appearance of this unholy spawn from
the devil.
It is...Hostess Pumpkin Spice Twinkies. No, that's not a
typo or a misprint. Hostess Pumpkin
Spice Twinkies. Yes, some food engineer sitting in a high tech lab somewhere in
the middle of the corn fields of Indiana
actually created this culinary catastrophe, this blending of two
"foods", a Frankenstein like culinary monster of epic proportions.
Bite into one of these spongy cakes and you'll be confronted with a vaguely
pumpkinny flavored orange hued cream. Yum.
Okay. I know my harangue is a little over the top.
But what is it with our nation's fascination every September
and October now, with pumpkin or pumpkin spice flavored foods and drinks? I
don't get it. Do you? This trend started in 2003 with the introduction by
Starbucks of its Pumpkin Spice Latte, a $4.65 cent melding of coffee and (at
least according to the company) "real" pumpkin flavoring. Do they
blenderize a whole pumpkin and then somehow mix it in with the beans?
Regardless of how the baristas do it, this drink has become
a huge hit for the ubiquitous java chain.
BuzzFeed reports that in 15 years, Starbucks has sold in excess of 350
million of these odd concoctions, wracking up sales of almost $1.5 billion. The
drink is so popular it has its own Twitter handle with 110,000 followers and a
hashtag that's been tagged some 850,000 times on Instagram. Since I'm over 55 years old I have no idea
what that last statistic means, but it must be important, right?
Not content to stop at a hybrid Twinkie or warped cup of
coffee, a horde of companies have created a seemingly endless list of pumpkin
or pumpkin spiced themed products.
Ready? Pumpkin ale. Pumpkin Greek yogurt. Pumpkin coffee creamer.
Pumpkin marshmallows. Pumpkin Spice Cheerios. Pumpkin Pie Hummus Shake. (Yes
these two foods deserve each other.) Pumpkin Spice pretzel nuggets. Pumpkin Flax Energy Cakes. (Why not mix in a
little kale while you're at it?).
But wait! It gets better...or worse.
Pumpkin gum. Pumpkin Pringles. Pumpkin Oreos. Pumpkin spice
sweet burrito. Pumpkin spice candy corn. (Making the worst Halloween candy of
all time that much more unpalatable.)
Pumpkin spice English muffins and what better way to top those off than
with Pumpkin butter and Pumpkin spiced Jiff peanut butter?
Leave it to America
to take a fanciful little idea, a cute concept and then turn it into a mass
consumption juggernaut. This season alone, pumpkin themed products will bring
in more than a $1 billion in sales. I wonder. Whatever happened to plain old
pumpkin pie, the once sole use for our discarded orange gourds, mixed into a
pasty concoction, poured into a pie shell and then consumed with a dollop of
whip cream twice a year, on Thanksgiving and Christmas?
Call me old school, old fashioned, an old guy who stands on
his lawn in sandals, shorts, and high black socks and then yells at the kids to
"GET OFF!" Go ahead. I still can't fathom drinking a pumpkin coffee
to wash down a pumpkin Twinkie. Nope.
Instead, just pass the pie.
That's good enough for me.
(Trigger coda: you've just finished reading a piece that has
no intellectual caloric value, nor any opinion that really matters. Hope you
enjoyed it.)
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